I'm Ashamed to Admit

I'm looking at a sign that says "Watch for Snakes" as I write this. To find out why, check out the bonus read at the end of this issue.

The Paradox of Success

On this spontaneous roadtrip I have been listening to Brene Brown's The Power of Vulnerability. I thought I was doing pretty well with my vulnerability willingness and my authenticity, but wow. I'm actually avoiding shame in multiple ways on a regular basis.

I'm convinced I'm losing millions of dollars because of it.

Here's how I see the causal chain:

Exponential growth & millions $$$ ← new value creation ← uncovering the truth ← being open, curious, and committed to finding out the truth ← being emotionally healthy

Have you ever heard the problem isn't the problem? It's the way you're thinking about the problem that is the problem. For every 1000 people hacking at the branches of the problem, there is one person hacking at the root.

I'm going after the root.

The Feedback Fear Loop

How can I expect to learn more about what to build to thrill people if I can't handle how I feel when I learn someone isn't totally thrilled with our service? That's like saying "Oh good! Let me make more phone calls to find out how terrible I am!"

Here's my uncomfortable truth: I take too much ownership when someone is upset with me. There. I said it. You can take too much ownership.

The paradox? When we take too much ownership in the wrong way we don't take enough ownership in the right ways. When it's personally painful to learn about people being unhappy with me, I avoid any activities that could possibly serve up more of that thing.

The evidence is clear in how I've reacted to criticism:

• Overreacting to a 1-star review

• Another emotional response to criticism

• Getting defensive about newsletter feedback

• December's 1-star review drama

(For the record, I think being sensitive is normal and healthy. Too much of what's wrong in society is people aren't sensitive enough in a healthy way. We numb, avoid, distract, enter our echo chambers and then hate the crazy people who don't think like we do.)

Breaking the Pattern

What if I can get a handle on really loving myself and then give space for the possibility that when someone isn't totally thrilled in every way with our service it's not so intensely personal?

What could that give space for?

• More proactive outreach to uncover THE TRUTH about client experiences

• Greater clarity about what to build next for maximum value

• The ability to charge more for those improvements

• Converting ho-hum clients into fanatical fans

I recently committed publicly to call every client who cancels service with us. I've been avoiding this new routine. But one of the calls I made was incredibly insightful: discovering we messed up, fixing it, and sending money the client didn't even ask for.

The Disney Method

Last month I went on a Disney Cruise with my son Drew. Disney served us up a 50+ question survey at the end and somehow incentivized me to fill the whole thing out!! The best companies have the best routines. This is the right routine: proactive data gathering.

We are arrogant if we think we really know what is going on in our business without doing extensive surveying and other data collection. We aren't being brave and vulnerable enough if we don't ask. And listen. And do something about it.

My 30-Day Challenge

Today's newsletter is about creating leverage on myself to move the needle. I want to be held accountable.

Within 30 days I commit to:

• Implementing surveys for both owners and residents at strategic touchpoints

• Creating incentives to achieve at least a 20% response rate

• Crafting questions that generate insightful, actionable data

• Creating a system to review and act on the feedback

I believe this one routine can be tremendously powerful in transforming my business.

What if doing this well enough and long enough could drop our churn from 20% to 7%? Would it be ridiculous to invest in the climate, conditions, process and training that could make that happen?

The impact wouldn't just be a larger business at any given sales volume—it would mean lower servicing costs AND higher likelihood they list and sell with us.

Brene Brown talks about overcoming shame through authenticity and empathy. What if I need to get over the shame of letting people down so I can actually engage with people in a way that speeds up my learning and creates more value?

Join My Challenge!

If you think improving your feedback systems could transform your business, JOIN ME:

• Reply directly to this email with "I'M IN" to get accountability updates

• Share one fear you have about hearing negative feedback

• Tell me what you think a 50% drop in customer churn would do for your business

This issue is a wrap. What follows is a personal story about my irrational trip to Dallas this week

"Why did he beat you?"

My 14-year-old daughter's question from the passenger seat hits me like a punch to the gut. Her tone is casual, almost dismissive—yet perfectly aimed. A strange cocktail of emotions washes over me: embarrassment, defensiveness, and something deeper that I can't quite name.

It's 11:30 PM on a Friday night. The streets are mostly empty, except for the occasional vehicle piloted by hormone-fueled teenagers and adrenaline junkies willing to challenge a Tesla Model 3 Performance at the light.

I wasn't prepared for what unfolded. As I rolled up, I noticed the SUV beside me had expensive rims and bright yellow powder-coated brake calipers. Odd. Then I spotted that strange yellow bird emblem on the side panel. This is a weird ca—

The light flipped green. They punched it. Instinctively, I floored it. A beautifully powerful engine roared with ferocity somewhere to my right! And strangely, the SUV and I remained frozen next to each other, the world around us dissolving into streaks of light.

'Why IS he beating me? What IS that thing?'

Despite my Tesla being faster on paper (by a mere 0.1 seconds), the Jeep Grand Cherokee Trackhawk had me beat off the line and was slowly pulling ahead. I backed off near 90 mph and eased down, confused and nursing my wounded pride.

I had never lost before. Even Hellcats and GTs showed respect—most wouldn't even try unless they could get a rolling start. It was usually just the occasional kid in a Raptor or SS who would challenge me off the line. They hadn't learned yet. I was always obliged to orient them to the meaning of that thin red line under the words "Dual Motor" on my tailgate.

My first loss, on full display for my equally competitive daughter. She served it up well—payback for my never having gone easy on her in anything, ever, while she was growing up.

Five simple words from her, and I had never felt more motivated to do better, be better, work harder. The challenge touched every facet of my pride. I silently vowed it would never happen again.

In that moment, all I could think about was my dream car: Tesla Model S Plaid.

I know I'm "too competitive," but it's not entirely my fault. I was the second of five boys, and perhaps desperate to distinguish myself from my closest brothers—competing and winning became part of my identity.

It's also not my fault I'm a speed freak. Growing up, my fondest memories were with my dad, burning fossil fuels and flying around the sand dunes near Glamis, California. It's where I learned to ride and drive, where I acquired my adrenaline addiction. Later, I followed up with a sport bike in college, which I sold after nearly killing myself. Twice.

Right now, I'm less than 12 hours from buying my dream car. I'm not getting a great price or interest rate. It's completely impractical. I just cleared my calendar to fly to Dallas to haggle with a 3.7-star-rated dealer who employs a salesperson named "Antoine" who only refers to me as "Boss" or "Big Man." This is not a rational purchase, and I'm so excited I'm up writing about it at 1:30 AM, two hours before my Uber arrives.

Yes. Part of me is still 14.

Yes, I will be flooring it almost every time off the line.

Yes, I will leave the Plaid badge off specifically so I can bait more unsuspecting speed freaks into challenging me.

Yes, every time it happens, my heart rate, blood pressure, dopamine, and adrenaline will spike—and I will smile.

And yes, my daughter will never. Ever. Be able to ask that question again:

"Why did he beat you?"