Archives For Maslow

Abe Maslow (Credit: Wikipedia)

Abe Maslow (Credit: Wikipedia)

50 years ago Abraham Maslow embedded himself in a Southern California tech factory to study its managers and culture. He kept copious notes and published his thoughts in 1962 in a sparsely-read tome called Eupsychian Management. The book was republished 37 years later, long after Maslow had passed, under the more accessible title, Maslow on Management. In it the great psychologist makes a distinction between the “doers” of the world and all those people who just talk, talk, talk.

After talking with various students and professors who “wanted to work with me” on self-actualization, I discovered that I was very suspicious of most of them and rather discouraging, tending to expect little from them. This is a consequence of long experience with multitudes of starry-eyed dilettantes – big talkers, great planners, tremendously enthusiastic – who came to nothing as soon as a little hard work is required.

We all know these types. I for one have to work hard to make sure there’s not one staring back at me each morning when I shave in front of the mirror. Someone recently told me I’m a great idea person. I think it was meant as a compliment, but my attention is piqued. I sure hope it’s not a euphemistic way of lopping me into that same category Maslow describes above.

Here’s Maslow’s technique from separating the talkers from the doers:

…I have tested people with these fancy aspirations simply by giving them a rather dull but important and worthwhile job to do. Nineteen out of twenty fail the test. I have learned not only to give this test but to brush them aside completely if they don’t pass it. I have preached to them about joining the “League of Responsible Citizens” and down with the free-loaders, hangers-on, mere talkers, the permanent passive students who study forever with no results. The test for any person is – that if you want to find out whether he’s an apple tree or not – Does He Bear Apples? Does He Bear Fruit? That’s the way you tell the difference between fruitfulness and sterility, between talkers and doers, between the people who change the world and the people who are helpless in it.

These are strong words from the father of Self-Actualization Theory. Here we assume Maslow must be this touchy-feely dude since his ideas are so often associated with kindness and making contributions to society. His views appear ironic even given that Maslow was first and foremost a thinker. I’ve never been quick to put theoretical psychologists into the “doer” category.

But he was also revolutionary. His bridge from talking to doing was constructed with rigorous testing, teaching, and writing. The hierarchy of needs thesis would have gone nowhere if he simply chatted with people about his novel concept. No, he had to go out and battle for respect in peer-reviewed journals. He had to promote it like crazy to earn acceptance and create his legacy. And his respect was not earned easily, nor did it come without wounds. It took years of grinding work that dilettantes are just not capable of.

What can we learn from Maslow’s view on doers versus talkers? My lesson is this: being an “idea person” brings little value to the world if you aren’t prepared to support the idea with all the grinding, thankless work it takes to fight through criticism and gain acceptance. This requires much more than brainstorming a few thoughts and patting yourself on the back because they feel so clever. The real value comes from transforming those thoughts from ideas to some kind of action. Even the tiniest action signals to the world that you’re serious, willing to work for your ideas, able to endure uncertainty, and not just another dilettante.

Self Help Credit Union

Self-Help Credit Union in Durham
(Credit: Google Maps Street View)

I’m late for my lunch appointment and covering the 20-mile stretch of highway between Raleigh and Durham at a brisk pace. It’s the last day of September. While North Carolina is showing few signs of autumn, some cool air rolled in the night before and pushed the summer humidity out to the coast. With a shining sun, it’s perfect for rolling down the windows and letting the wind swirl around the faded leather interior of my old Toyota.

I’m heading downtown to meet Kristen Cox, an investment associate at Self-Help Credit Union.  I’ve been thinking about the Enough Project for a few weeks now, and I’m about to write my first check.

The idea is to put some chunk of our family money to work supporting conscious capitalist organizations and projects. We’re doing pretty well these days, financially speaking. I’m less and less compelled to make every dollar go into investments that aim for the highest possible returns. If there’s a tradeoff to be made between earning the highest return possible versus one that’s merely reasonable, I’m willing to explore the reasonable option when it means the money supports something constructive, meaningful and that provides some benefit to my community.

This is the gist of the Enough Project: putting a small slice of our money to work in ways that are consistent with the things we value.

Yet I find myself glancing anxiously at the passenger seat of my car. It’s empty save one checkbook wrapped in the same navy blue vinyl cover my bank issued me when I opened the account more years ago than I care to remember. I’m not sure why, but I’m a little nervous about using one of those checks to transfer our six-month emergency fund over to Self-Help. The transaction is riskless. The new account is covered by NCUA insurance, so it has all the protections the FDIC provides at my bank. It will earn the same interest rate it gets in my bank. It’s completely liquid with the money available to pull out anytime I might need it. True, the check is the biggest I’ve ever written, but I’m writing it to myself! Why the fear?

There’s something about this drive, about this check, about this Enough Project that has me thinking hard about my crazy relationship with money these past ten years. It’s creating a serious case of navel-gazing.

Flashback to June 2004. I was down to my last $50. Literally. And I had a wallet full of maxed-out credit cards, a mortgage-sized student loan payment, and a car note to boot.

It had been six months since my last paycheck, and my job options were so dim that I passed my days filling out applications on the Halliburton website. My mind spun vivid daydreams in which I drove 18-wheel supply trucks in caravans criss-crossing the deserts of  Iraq or Afghanistan, pulling a kevlar bucket tight by its chinstrap when the occasional mortar shell came whistling down. Spending the next year or two as a war contractor seemed my best option for income. Perhaps my only option to avoid whatever comes after one runs out of money to pay his creditors.

I remember lying across my bed in the middle of one sweltering Charlotte summer day, my roommate’s dog resting her muzzle on my thigh while my brain dizzied itself spinning through every desperate plan that might keep me afloat just a bit longer.

Suddenly it all stopped. My mind emptied itself, becoming utterly silent. Staring at the ceiling for what must have been five, maybe ten minutes of total quiet, the despair slowly gave way to a simmering anger. I muttered aloud, for no one in particular, “Never again.”

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