Obsession with the Superlative

Photo: Daniel Lobo

For the past week, I've been on vacation here at home. We've been helping Laurin ease into American society, exposing him to our favorite foods, showing him around, etc. As part of that, we spent a day at the Minnesota State Fair. We had a good time, but I couldn't help but notice something that bothers me. Everywhere I turned, there was this deep obsession with the superlative.

Vendors had staked out their territories and all were drawing lines in the sand to show in exactly what ways they were the first, best, only, biggest, fastest, smallest, lightest, heaviest, etc. In some way, every one of them was trying to plant their flag at the top of some heap, even if they had to pile the heap themselves.

Decades of marketing books and programs (as well as consuming the results of said marketing) have taught everyone that you need to be number 1 in some way or you should just go home. And, if you aren't number 1 in some natural way, you need to redefine the criteria. If you can't actually be the first to market, you can be the first in the state or the first at the state fair.

We see this everywhere. If your hamburgers can't win in taste tests, but still sell well, you can't advertise them as "best tasting", but you sure can market them as "America's Favorite*" (*based on number sold). That fine print next to a claim is a sure sign that someone has redefined the criteria.

On the stock markets and in nearly every discussion of business, there's an assumption that if you can't be the market leader in your niche, you're a failure.

The thing is that I don't think that number 1 is necessarily the optimal place to be. My favorite recent example is in watching the aftermath of each of the finales for The Apprentice. After those final shows, there were 2 people out doing interviews about the result.

One of those people was the winner, who received a job working for Donald Trump on one of a handful of projects. The other came in 2nd and many of the interviews focused on how it must feel to not be the winner.

Then, in the middle of those interviews, you'd hear a question about what the "loser" was going to do after the show. The answer was telling. They pretty much all talked about the piles of job offers coming in from around the country.

In other words, the person who "won" got a job working for Donald Trump (a prospect that would require far more compensation for me than the "prize" offers) while the "loser" was offered a buffet of choice jobs. That person could choose to work for their ideal boss in their ideal job. As far as I'm concerned, coming in 2nd on that show is the ideal game plan.

Actually, we all do this all the time. It's highly unlikely that for someone like me who participates in a collection of hobbies like: playing guitar, writing fiction, keeping fish, drawing, photography, collecting movie memorabilia etc. will ever perform or possess a collection that is genuinely world class. That doesn't mean that pursuing those interests is futile or that I couldn't reach an admirable level, even make a living with some of them.

We all decide a level of effort that (to some degree or other) matches our expected return on that effort. And, for most of us, that mechanism works extremely efficiently for nearly everything in our lives. However, at some point, nearly all of us fall victim to the sales pitch that an endeavor is only worth pursuing if we can devote our entire pool of resources to it.

Horse pucky. I'm not the world's best software developer. However, I believe my track record points to me being a *good* software consultant. Because I am not killing myself in pursuit of being good enough that the entire software world beats a path to my door, I have time to write, play music, draw and enjoy spending time with my family.

It's a pretty good balance as far as I'm concerned. It may not be for everyone, but I think the obsession with the superlative is just hollow to me.