Let's Make a Deal!

It seems to me, many of the mistakes in life fall under the category of making a bad deal with our future selves. You overeat today and Future You must work out more (or buy Lipitor) to counteract the Golden Corral buffet. You make a snide remark to your spouse, a statement Future You will have to clean up and apologize for. You cut corners on a project at work, forcing Future You to work overtime to fix the issues the shortcut caused. You overspend and go into debt, creating financial stress and additional budget expenses for Future You. And we all sometimes live as if that future version is someone else entirely: “Boy, Future Chad sure does have a lot of work to do and messes to clean up. I’m glad that isn’t me!”

Future You is abstract and a difficult concept to wrap our minds around. You don’t know him (or her), you’ve never even met him, and you don’t know if you will even like him, so why sacrifice today to help out a complete stranger: Future You? When Future You is hazy, we are more likely to make deals that will inevitably harm that person. We must learn to make better deals with the future versions of ourselves and part of that process is creating a more vivid picture of what that scenario looks like.

I still remember the very first deal I made with Future Me. When I was about four or five years old, I found out my dad had owned a 1964 Corvette: the coolest car in the world. Wondering where he was hiding this amazing machine, I soon learned he had sold that car shortly after meeting his wife. My elation quickly turned to devastation. Giving up a dream car for a girl, what was he thinking?!? It didn’t even matter to me that the “girl” was my own mother – whom I love dearly – but in that moment I couldn’t understand it. What kind of person gives up a Corvette, even if it is for “True Wuv” (meant to be read in the voice of the priest in Princess Bride)?

A few months after learning about my dad’s Corvette, my mom had just given or was about to give birth to her third child. The family was quickly outgrowing the little Honda my mom brought into the marriage, so my dad went car shopping. I remember seeing a beautiful, red convertible Corvette at a dealership we visited. My dad noticed my not-so-subtle fascination and we went over to look at it. I explained to him that was the car and we could end the car shopping early – we found what we were looking for. He then lifted me up and showed me the car had only two seats and it wouldn’t be “practical” for our growing family. I don’t know if I verbalized it, but I do recall thinking, “Yup, one seat for you, one seat for me. I don’t see a problem here, pops.” Dad didn’t seem to have the same perspective and we got a much more “practical” – but far less exciting – Honda Accord. Clearly Honda was out to ruin my life and my father was helping them.

It was at that moment that I promised myself I would one day buy myself a Corvette. And not only that, I would have one while I was raising my own kids so they wouldn’t have to deal with the Honda Trauma (yes, it’s a real condition and the only cure is pure, unbridled American made horsepower) I was experiencing.

I’ll admit, that wasn’t the most sensible deal I could have made with myself. But in making that deal with Future Me, I included some very important aspects in the negotiations. I made it tangible, specific and time-bound (to a point). I visualized not only the Corvette, but also myself driving it and enjoying the speed and power (within the confines of posted traffic laws, of course). It made the experience more real. Also, it wasn’t just any car, it had to be a Corvette. Also, I gave myself a time limit. I couldn’t wait until I was 80. This had to happen before my future kids were out of the house. In doing so, I made what could have been a very whimsical wish, a very salient promise to Future Me instead. A promise that after three and a half decades, I still vividly remember making.

I had no idea what I was doing at the time, but in looking back, I can see how effectively I made that deal – impractical as it was –  by creating a clearer and more definite picture of a very hazy and abstract concept, Future Me.

I’m not suggesting everyone go out and buy a Corvette. Give me a little grace on the objective of that deal, I was five. But how I created the deal, making it tangible, specific and time-bound, was important in making it real to me. Begin clarifying Future You so Current You can make the deals to benefit and not harm that person. Future You will be very grateful … and he might even buy you a car some day 😉