Don't be afraid to look dumb

My wife left the house. I had about an hour to get it done.

Back in December 2018, I had an idea. What if someone tried creating YouTube videos that got people interested in economics? Not just explainers, but something that helped people see how fun economics is. I was finishing my first semester teaching at a new school, and I felt I had succeeded in persuading students to study economics. YouTube would help me reach more.

But there was a huge barrier from acting on the idea. Surprisingly, it was not because I knew nothing about filming or editing videos. You would think that would be a barrier, but like any rookie I looked at that and thought it would be easy to learn (spoiler: it is both easier and harder than it appears).

The barrier was simpler than that: I was afraid of looking dumb filming a video. I was worried about how I would sound talking alone in a room to a camera. So when my wife left that night, and my kids were all in bed, I had a moment to film my video without looking dumb.

This is a broader phenomenon for me. Apparently I'm really worried about looking dumb in front of other people. And except for the rare courageous reader, I suspect this is a problem for you too. But it's worth recognizing the problem and trying to overcome it.

Here's an example of my problem. As a professor, my primary responsibility is to publish research. It can be fun, but many times it can be frustrating as I stare at the same problem for days and weeks, unable to solve it. On one paper in particular, a journal had asked me to add a little model to the paper to motivate my results. I spent weeks if not months preparing the model, most of that time spent staring at the problem in despair. My wife could tell when I was working on the model because of my despondent look.

The whole time, I refused to ask anyone for help. I told myself it was because I didn't know who could even help. But in reality, I didn't want to confess to anyone that I couldn't solve a simple problem. I finally put together a model and sent the paper back to the journal. They responded that they were no longer interested because the model didn't look good.

I was so mad. And I should have been mad...at myself. But my anger wasn't targeted at the right place. I blamed the journal for making me spend months on the process only to reject me for including what they requested. Instead, I should have been mad at myself for refusing to seek help.

I pressed on, submitting the paper to another journal with a few improvements to the model. The improvements had resolved problems that the first journal had with the model, but there was a major claim that I knew was true but couldn't prove. I decided to assert the claim and explain the intuition, but I omitted the proof because I couldn't do it. Hopefully they wouldn't notice.

The feedback came back a few weeks ago. They noticed.

I was disheartened. The paper was good. It had some interesting, never-before-seen economic history in it. And it was being held back because of a stupid model.

But the model wasn't holding the paper back. It couldn't progress because, just like my first YouTube video, I was afraid of looking dumb.

Last week, something finally changed in me. I think it was because I had my annual review and they asked when I expected to publish the paper. Leaving the meeting, I accepted the truth: the main barrier to finishing the paper was my unwillingness to ask someone for help.

I caved. I emailed an acquaintance I had not talked to in years. It basically said, "I know we never talk, but I'm dumb and can't solve what should be a simple problem." He immediately responded that he was happy to help. We got on Zoom and in less than an hour I knew what I needed to do next. Less. Than. An. Hour!

Months had been wasted because my fear kept me from taking 60 minutes to talk with someone who understands these problems. And I know he didn't think I was dumb because he had to wrestle with the problem too. In fact, he might have been concerned about looking dumb in front of me. But I knew he wasn't dumb because I had spent weeks trying to solve the problem, so he was already ahead of me.

I've already hit the next problem on the model. It should be the last piece I need. And I learned my lesson. I immediately contacted another friend. Without hesitating, she agreed to talk. In fact, we're talking this week, and I feel confident that I'll come out of the call with a solution. And that means the last year could have been saved if I had just been humble at the beginning and just made two calls.

Here's the good news. I'm learning my lesson. I'm already looking at the projects on my docket and asking what I need to do to get feedback. I will do better at seeking feedback, and I won't be afraid to look dumb. After all, if I never overcame that fear in December 2018, you wouldn't even be reading this newsletter. The video would have remained a "what if...?" in my mind, and I wouldn't connect with over 20,000 subscribers. Who know what opportunities I miss when I succumb to the fears? Even better, which opportunities am I accessing because I'm deciding to not let that stop me anymore?

If this resonated with you, click like or leave a comment. I have some more thoughts on the topic and can share them in a future essay.