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 😉
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