Intro. [Recording date: October 27, 2022.]
Russ Roberts: Today is October 27th, 2022, and my guest is author Annie Duke. Her latest book and the subject of today’s conversation is, Quit: The Power of Knowing When to Walk Away. Annie, welcome to EconTalk.
Annie Duke: Well, I’m happy to be here, Russ.
Russ Roberts: Now, I couldn’t help but notice that your book has a one-syllable title, which is ideal. It’s a fabulous thing. But, it also happens to rhyme with Grit, a book with an apparently different perspective, but which is Angela Duckworth’s book, which we’ve talked about on this program. But, talk about what is the difference between ‘quit’ and ‘grit.’ They sound like they’re opposite.
Annie Duke: Yeah. So, yeah, the fact that it’s called Quit and rhymes with Grit is not accidental. That is by design. So, let me just first say that I really don’t have any quibble with the book Grit. I think everybody should go and read it.
I do have a quibble with some of the takeaways that people take from it. Which is not anything on Angela Duckworth’s part, because these are not the takeaways she would wish that people took from it.
Here’s the issue: is that grit and quit–those two decisions–are the same decision, and we don’t think of them that way. We think of them as polar opposites.
But, I mean, if you think about it logically, any day that I choose to stay in my job is a day I’m choosing not to quit. Any day that I quit my job is a day I’m choosing not to stay.
And so, at any moment, given that we’ve started something, we have a choice whether to stick with it or to go and shift and do something else.
And, where we get into trouble is with the calibration issue. Right? Like, when is the right time to quit? When is the right time to stick to things?
And, my quibble with the takeaways about grit in general is that grit is good. Grit is a virtue. The people who persevere are the heroes of our stories. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Quitters never win. Winners never quit.
Like, Russ, if I called you a quitter, would I be complimenting you?
Russ Roberts: No.
Annie Duke: No, I’d be insulting you.
And, in fact, if you look up ‘quitter’ in a thesaurus, you’ll see that one of the synonyms is coward.
And, that’s where I really–that’s where I kind of get mad. Right? And, it’s a little bit why the title of the book is so in-your-face, because I am kind of mad about that. Because, I think that it does incredible damage to people in terms of their ability to actually achieve their goals, because people are getting stuck in things that just really aren’t worthwhile. It isn’t worth them sticking to them for fear that somehow, like, if they quit, they’re a loser, or a failure, or people are going to judge them harshly for it. A variety of reasons that they won’t do it.
And, the opportunity costs associated with that are so great, separate and apart from the ground that you’re losing just by sticking to a loser, anyway. Right?
And, I think it’s tragic. And we need to start saying: Quitting is a skill, and it’s one that you should get good at. Because, unlike the idea that if you stick to things, you’ll be successful. No, if you stick to the stuff that’s worthwhile, you’ll be successful, but you got to quit the rest.
Russ Roberts: You have a line in the book which is just quite profound: “The opposite of a great virtue is also a great virtue.” And, that seems–I think most people would say, ‘Well, that can’t be true,’ or worse, ‘That’s a lie. That’s just ridiculous.’ What do you mean by that? And, I think one of the reasons I love it is that it’s memorable and it might help you make a decision that you would otherwise miss if you didn’t remember that. So, talk about what you mean.
Annie Duke: Yeah. Okay. So, let me just give credit where credit is due. When I started working on the book, it was during the pandemic. And so, I asked a whole bunch of people that I know to get on Zooms with me. And, one of them was Phil Tetlock, author of Superforecasting–really brilliant man. And, they all knew that I wanted to talk about this concept of quitting. And, I got on the call with him and he said, ‘I’ve been thinking about this in relation to grit. And, I think it’s wonderful because the opposite of a great virtue is also a great virtue.’
So, he was making a play on: The opposite of a great truth is also a great truth. I think that what we need to understand is that everything has upsides and downsides. So, grit is a virtue when you’re sticking to things through the hard times because the goal that you’re trying to reach is worth it.
And, that is indeed a virtue because we don’t–when your kid goes out on the soccer field and just has one really bad game and storms off the field and says, ‘I want to quit’, you don’t want them to do that. Overall, if they enjoy soccer, if you think that it’s something that they’re getting great benefit out of, you want to teach them that it’s a virtue to be able to take the downs in order to achieve the ups. Right?
That being said, quitting is also a virtue because if they get a concussion on the field, you don’t want them to continue the game. And, that’s what we have to remember, is that in circumstances where the world has given us new information that tells us that what we’re doing is no longer worthwhile, it is virtuous to quit.
And, in fact, I would say that there’s certain cases where it becomes a moral imperative to quit. Yeah. So, I’ll give you just a brief example of moral imperative to quit.
So, let’s say–let me come at it from two different ways. So, there’s a wonderful story of quitting that occurs on the top of Mount Everest. It, in fact, opens the chapter that says the opposite of a great virtue is also a great virtue. And, I think that we think of people who climb Everest as sort of the epitome of grittiness–that these are the stories that you’re telling about grittiness. But there’s a wonderful story about quittiness that’s there. So, this story is about Dr. Stuart Hutchinson, John Taske, and Lou Kasischke, and they’re climbing up Everest. They’re part of one of those climbing expeditions in the 1990s that were very popular. There’s eight climbers, three climbing sherpas, and an expedition leader. And, on Summit Day where you leave from Camp Four–so you’ve already done quite a bit of climbing up to Camp Four from base camp–you leave at midnight.
And, the expedition leader has set a turnaround time. So, what’s a turnaround time? It’s no matter where you are on the mountain, if you’re not at the summit by 1:00 PM, you must turn around. Pretty simple. The reason why the turnaround time is 1:00 PM is because they don’t want people to descend what’s called the southeast ridge in darkness. It’s a very narrow part of the mountain. It’s very easy to slip if you can’t see what you’re doing. And, if you fall, you’re either going to fall to your death into Nepal or fall to your death into Tibet. Take your pick. Neither of them, I assume, would you like to do.
All right: so our three climbers, Hutchinson, Taske, and Kasischke, are climbing. And, this was at a time when the mountain was starting to get crowded and they got basically literal traffic jams on the mountain trying to get up to the summit because so many people were trying to go at once.
So, it’s very slow going on this day. And, their expedition leader comes up behind them and Hutchinson says to the expedition leader, ‘Hey, what time do you think it’s going to be? How long do you think it’s going to be until we get to the summit?’ And, the expedition leader says ‘Three hours.’ Goes on ahead to sort of try to make up some ground and get to the summit himself. Hutchinson holds Taske and Kasischke back and says, ‘We have a problem. If it’s going to be three hours to the summit, it’s already 11:30 AM. Seems to me we’re not going to get to the summit until 2:30. That’s well past the turnaround time. So, it appears we have butted up against that and we have to turn around now.’ So, they did. And they lived.
Now, Russ, I’m sure it’s obvious to you why you’ve never heard this story. Like, where’s the drama, right?
I mean, three climbers followed the rules. They turned around, they lived. Like, nobody’s making a movie out of it. Except they did. They were part of the climbing expedition chronicled in John Krakauer’s Into Thin Air. Rob Hall was their expedition leader, in fact, the one who told them that it was three hours to the summit. Rob Hall, I think we all know, went to the top of the mountain, got there at two, an hour past the turnaround time, waited for Doug Hansen to get there until four, and they both perished atop the mountain. They never made it a bit down. They were on top of the summit.
So, you might say, ‘Okay, well if it was in the book and also in the movies, maybe they just didn’t talk about them because what a boring story.’ But, they did. They said they were the best climbers on the mountain.
And so, first of all, the thing number one is: Why don’t we even know who they are? In all of this drama, here are these people who quit beautifully and turned around and lived and yet we don’t even remember them. So, I think that’s important because even people who persevere in conditions that are bad, past the turnaround time that he himself had set and perish, we still admire them. We still consider them the heroes of our story.
But, this is where I think we get into a moral imperative to be good quitters, which is: Hutchinson, Taske, and Kasischke all had families. Two of them were doctors; they had patients. And don’t they have a moral imperative to turn around in that situation? They know that they should, the probability of death is too high. And, now they have people that they can go back to and continue on with their lives and make those people’s lives richer for their presence in them.
And so that, I think, gets a little bit at this idea of moral imperative.
I think the other place where you can see a moral imperative is quite common in, for example, in startup culture, where a startup will be clearly failing; someone will say, ‘Hey, it seems like it’s not going well. You’re not hitting any of your benchmarks. You’re missing all your targets. You haven’t achieved product market fit–whatever–it seems like you should shut it down.’
And, people will say, ‘But I owe it to my employees.’ So, they’re using the language of duty here: I have a duty to my employees to keep it going. But, if we think about it, they actually have a duty to quit. Why? Because once they’ve determined that the equity isn’t worthwhile–and startup employees are generally working for very low cash comp when compared to what they could get on the market, but they’re working for equity that they deem to be possibly life-changing. Once the founder has determined that equity is not worth it, they have a duty to the employee to allow them to go, so that they can go get paid what they deserve. Whether that’s at a new startup, where they’re going to be working for equity that has more value, or whether it’s in an enterprise where they’re just going to get salaried at their market rate.
So, I think that we turn that on its head,right? We say: ‘I have a duty to stick it out because I’ve convinced these employees to come work for me for no money and equity. And so, I got to keep trying.’ Except that the minute that you’ve determined that equity isn’t worthwhile, the duty is actually the opposite. Just to shut it down and let them go free.
Russ Roberts: Those are incredible stories. Obviously the Everest one, slightly more incredible than the founding employee story, but they’re both powerful because they illuminate a moral issue that on the surface doesn’t seem like a moral issue.
And, I think your insight about character is very à propos. We often admire those people who don’t quit because they, quote, “persevered,” when in fact it was irrational or immoral. The story I like to tell of Fred Smith when he started FedEx and he ran out of money; and he went to Chicago to the bankers from Memphis and they turned him down. They said no. And, he was going to get back on the plane and fly back to Memphis and tell his employees that he was sorry that he couldn’t make payroll. This was not a tough decision because the cash register was empty, the bank account was empty.
But, instead he went to Reno. He saw Reno on the board of departures, put all that he had–I think he’d taken money from his sister’s, their shared trust fund. And he got sued for this, too, by the way. And, he goes–I don’t know whether this is the money he took or he was taking it all along–I can’t remember. But, he ends up in Reno and he puts whatever money he has on red or 17 or whatever it is and makes just enough to go back and make payroll. And the rest is history. And, I love that story because it’s about gumption and guts and not quitting and persevering and believing in your dream.
The problem is that’s the story we hear. The ones that we don’t hear the ones where it was a bad dream, wasn’t going to make it, and the hubris and ego of the founder–other people paid the price for that. Now in his case, he made it; I have a lot of respect for Fred Smith. Tremendous amount.
But he was a visionary. Most visionaries have a very different quitting compass. That’s very bad mixed metaphor. But, they struggle to make those decisions–for ego and for just delusion. And, we celebrate the ones who make it and we don’t chronicle the people who don’t make it. And, that is–there are pluses and minuses to that. But, I think your observation is fantastic.
The other point I want to make is that: I just want to come back to this mantra of Phil Tetlock–past Econtalk guest, God bless him–“The opposite of a great virtue is also great virtue.” One of the ones I love that is: You have to learn how to say no. And, that’s a very powerful truth. It’s really true.
Annie Duke: But, you also have to learn how to say yes.
Russ Roberts: Correct. Even sometimes saying yes to things that don’t look promising, lead to extraordinary changes in your life. And, so–
Annie Duke: That’s right.
Russ Roberts: All these things are a question of nuance, I think, and balance. Before we–
Annie Duke: Actually, speaking of Phil Tetlock, during the pandemic when I was somewhat busy, he reached out to me and said, ‘We’re having trouble creating good training for novice forecasters and these counterfactual forecasting problems. You kind of teach this stuff and consult on it. So, maybe you would be able to put it into terms or a voice that would actually create a good training and you could maybe think about the things that actually work with your clients and apply that to this training.’ So, I said, ‘Yes.’ Why? Because I love Phil–and Barb, by the way, his wife–and I was willing to make time for that.
And, that turned into four very large-scale studies that were incredibly fruitful. So, I completely agree with you, right? I’m trying to work on both, right? Being more careful about saying no to things that I’m predicting are not going to be worth my time. And, saying yes to stuff that looks kind of wild and crazy, but wouldn’t that be cool? And, I might learn something super new about myself or something super new about the world. So, I love that example because that’s a good case of, like, the yin and yang, right?
Russ Roberts: The reason I like it is, there’s this other piece to it for me, which is: you might make a human connection that you otherwise wouldn’t make, that’s not going to make you more money, and it’s not going to lead to all those other studies, not going to help you understand something. You’re just going to have a human experience that’s precious. And I love that. It’s very powerful.
I think in the case of the yes/no, what we’re saying is you have to make room in your life for serendipity. There are things that are going to come along you can’t predict, can’t imagine. And, if you always say no, you’ll be comforted by the fact that you had more time for other things. But, you’ll never see the things you didn’t get. And, you write about that a lot in the book actually. Very thoughtfully.
Annie Duke: Yeah, so actually I’d like to–in relation to that, I’d like to bring up a little fact about ants, because I think this goes really well with that. So, you know the song “The Ants Go Marching One by One, Hurrah, Hurrah,” right? So, we know that we have that image. If you’ve seen any cartoon or you’ve actually watched ants on a nature show, they’re marching in a line, right?
Russ Roberts: Yeah, they’re really good at that.
Annie Duke: So, those ants are forager ants. They’re a part of the colony that’s meant to go out and find food, basically. And so, if you watch these forager ants approach, like, a new territory, you’ll see that they’re all kind of scattered around. So, they’re not marching in a line, yet. And then, one of them will find food and they’ll take the food and they’ll be carrying it back to the colony.
And, on the way back they lay down a pheromone trail. So, it’s just a chemical trail that the other ants are going to detect.
So, they’re only doing it on the way back: once they’ve found food, they’re laying down this trail.
So, at first it’s pretty faint because it’s only one ant. But, now if another ant detects that trail, it will now go along the trail; it will find the food.
And then, when it’s bringing that food back, it will also lay a pheromone trail down on top of that. And, you can see how this trail is now getting reinforced, attracting more and more ants to the same trail until they’re marching one by one–to whatever, the watermelon that fell on the ground. Right?
So, that’s how we think about them. But, actually if you look at the behavior, once there’s a strong pheromone trail laid down, what you’ll see is about 10 to 15% of the ants don’t actually get with the program. They’re just kind of wandering around.
So, what’s the deal with those ants, right? Are they ant-anarchists? Are they malingerers? Like, what’s the deal with these malingering ants?
And, it turns out no, they’re not anarchists at all. They’re not malingerers. They’re actually serving an incredibly important function for the colony, which is that they are continuing to explore. So, you’ve got the ants that are exploiting the food source that’s high-quality, a watermelon or whatever. But, the other ants are continuing to explore. So, they’re saying yes in that sense, right? They’re like, ‘Yeah, sure, I’ll keep go looking around.’
And, why is that so incredibly important that they’re doing that? Well, first of all, the food source might go away. So, someone might clean the watermelon up. Like, maybe it’s on the back deck or something like that and someone comes out with the hose, and then that watermelon is gone. It’s really good that this 10 to 15% of the colony is continuing to explore other food sources because it means they have backups.
Russ Roberts: Insurance.
Annie Duke: It’s insurance that allows them to sort of cover–to your point, they’re increasing the chances for serendipity, for finding something else that’s really great.
The other thing–and I think that this is an overlooked point–is that it may be that the food source that they have is totally stable, but the other ants might find a better one. And, that’s the issue of opportunity cost–right?–is that once we’re exploiting something, whether it’s a product that an enterprise is selling, or a hobby that we’re pursuing, or a project, a job, whatever it is, once we’re doing that, we tend to cease to explore.
So, I think it’s funny that a lot of the encouragement is around saying no, because I think we’re actually quite good at saying no, because we actually don’t even consider the possibility of saying yes or no. And, if you don’t consider the possibility of saying yes or no, you’re saying no to all of that stuff by default. Right?
So, what the ants are doing is saying, ‘Well, this is great. I love that. But maybe there’s something better out there.’ And, they’re continuing to explore it. So, it’s serving dual purposes: It’s giving them a backup plan, but it’s also allowing them to find something that really ought to have been their Plan A.
And, I think this relates exactly to what you’re saying, right? And you can see this behavior, this duality in the ants, because they’re doing both things at once. They’re exploiting the food source that’s there, but they’re also continuing to explore and basically say yes to all the other places that you could go look and they’re more likely to find something.
So, obviously we’re not ants. We don’t have a big colony. I can’t clone myself. But, to your point, I can say yes to stuff. And if I say yes to stuff, maybe I’m going to find something there that’s awesome or a good backup plan or better than what I’m already doing.
Russ Roberts: Yeah. I’m going to say something about quitting that I’m curious to get your reaction. It’s a personality trait of mine and I’ve often thought of it as a flaw, but it maybe it’s a feature, not a bug; and it’s consistent with your point. I tend to get very excited about new projects; and I’m not the best collaborator and I haven’t been until I got in this job as President of Shalem College. I kind of picked things where I didn’t have to collaborate. Right? When you’re a research fellow at the Hoover Institution, it’s a deliberately lonely life. It’s not lonely–it’s just that you’re often alone; and you can collaborate with other people in your field if you want, but you’re also free to just work on what you love. And it’s really lovely.
But, when you have to collaborate, in my experience of my own self, if I get really excited about a project and I need your help–okay?–or we’re going to do it together; and I tell you about and I’m all fired up; and you go, ‘Well that’s really cool. I like it, too. That’s fantastic.’ And, then nothing–you don’t follow up, you don’t respond. Maybe you got busy. Maybe you decided you didn’t idea as much as I did initially. I lose all my enthusiasm. Right? I have very little self–because I’m going to find another one. I’m like that ant. I’m going to go off, I’ll find another thing I’m excited about, and I’ll find somebody who does want to do it. Or, I’ll get you fired up about the new one. And, I’ve always wondered whether that’s a character flaw that I very quickly give up on what I was so excited about to start with.
And, now you’re making me feel better about it. It still could be a character flaw, but I think it’s a recognition of the opportunity cost. If you’re not enthusiastic and you’re not following through with me and I’m going to have to then carry the ball by myself, I deflate. I’m done. I’m going to find a new project. I’m going to wander off, find a different piece of watermelon. And, I think I’ve never thought about that as a possible good character trait. Maybe it is.
Annie Duke: Yeah. Well, okay. So, here’s the thing, though. I mean again, it depends on your values: it depends on what the signals for success might be for you. So, for you, it sounds like you don’t feel like you’re going to be successful in a project if you don’t have a collaborator who is equally enthusiastic. That’s what it sounds like.
So, this goes into something that we could call ‘kill criteria.’ If you want to be softer about it, you could call them ‘exit criteria.’ I like the term ‘kill criteria’ for the same reason that I put in very large letters the Quit right on the front of my book because I want people to think about these things this way, in the boldest possible terms.
But, at any rate, so for you as you’re thinking about, ‘Ooh, I’m kind of interested in this idea; I want to explore this. What are the things that would tell me that this isn’t going to be something that’s a really valuable use of my time? Well, if I can’t get a collaborator to be as successful as I am, then I really ought not to do this. So, I’m going to do very little thinking about it. I’m going to form enough of an idea to be able to communicate it to someone who I would like to collaborate with. And, if they’re not as excited and engaged as I am, I already know it’s not going to be worth my time.’ Right?
So, that’s actually a really reasonable way to approach a project. So, I actually approach books that way. When I have an idea for a book, there are a few people that I call. I hardly form the book idea, I’m able–with Quit, it was something like, Quit, the opposite of Grit. I said that. And, I don’t mean, like I said, I don’t mean, like, the opposite, but I mean the dialogue with Grit: that, I think that people in general think that we quit things too early. I think the science tells us that we quit things too late. And, I would really like to explore this topic. That was about what I had.
And, I wrote, I think the first person I wrote was Michael Mogenson. But then, I think Danny Kahneman followed quickly after that, and Phil Tetlock, because I just wanted to see how did they react to that. And, then they were really excited. They were like, ‘Okay, yeah.’ So, then I’m like, ‘Okay, I think now I should go further.’ Right?
So, I’m always sort of pushing to see, like, is this a no or is this a yes? And, I know that if can’t get–if Danny Kahneman thinks it’s a stupid idea and it’s not worth exploring, that’s a really good signal for me. So, I shouldn’t put a whole lot of work into it until I’ve got those gut checks from people who are way smarter than me, much deeper into the science than I am, and are going to tell me whether it’s something that they think is worth putting on a piece of paper.
And obviously this has to do, in particular, with what I like to write about, which is, to be fair, their science. So, if the people who created the science don’t think it’s worth writing about, I’m not going to continue with it.
Russ Roberts: The parallel thing with Grit is: But don’t you have enough faith in your own idea? What, you’re going to rely on other people to decide whether this is a good project for you? And, I wonder sometimes when I get shot down with a creative idea–a not really outside the box idea, something more crazy than just, ‘Here’s an idea for a book,’ but I propose something absurd–I wonder if–and I get shot down–I go, ‘No one likes it.’ It’s very hard for, I think, most of us emotionally to then say, ‘But I think I’m still right, especially if the people we’re asking we respect and are smarter than we are.’ And I think, I worry sometimes that I cast my own decisions in that kind of light that, ‘Yeah, it’s a rational decision because I needed to. They didn’t think it was worth it. They’re smarter than I am.’
But, sometimes I wonder if it’s just like: I’m a quitter. And, it comes to your point about the cultural baggage that we have–mostly from our parents. You gave the example of the kid on the soccer field. A lot of what we do as parents and a lot of what our parents did to us is to get us to push through pain. Because often–not always, but often–great rewards come from that. And that is hard–for human beings to anticipate those rewards sometimes. Especially when we’re young, we have trouble.
Annie Duke: And, let me just emphasize that: Especially when we’re young. So, I just want to emphasize that, because I think that, separate and apart from where parents go wrong with that–and they do, they take it too far–but obviously it’s a good lesson to take someone who’s six and has never gone through the downs to see what the ups might be on the back end of it and teach them you don’t need to quit. You can push through it. I agree, especially when they’re young.
The problem is that we think that applies to 30-year-olds. That’s the problem. And it doesn’t, because 30-year-olds aren’t walking off the soccer field. That’s the problem.
Russ Roberts: Yeah. Well, I want to take another example that you use in the book that will apply to the Everest example. And, I think it’s an incredibly poignant and powerful example of it. The example you use is that if you finish a half-marathon, people are impressed. ‘Wow, you ran 13.1 miles. That’s a lot.’ But, if you run a marathon and you stop halfway, you’re a quitter–and you did the exact same thing.
Annie Duke: That’s right.
Russ Roberts: And, I think about the absurdity, the utter tragic absurdity, of being 300 meters from the top of Mount Everest–
Annie Duke: And, you’re a loser–
Russ Roberts: and, it’s one o’clock, and you’re supposed to turn back. And you say, ‘I’m not going to stop short of the summit. I can see it from here.’ And of course, the answer, one answer you should give yourself is: If I can see the summit and I’m 300 meters away, didn’t I kind of do what I wanted to do? Can’t I–
Annie Duke: To that point, you know, there was something interesting because these are all cognitive phenomena. Right?
So, one of the things that I want to be clear about is that what we’re talking about is the cognitive state of being in the losses. So, when you think about your balance sheet–right?–like, ‘in the losses’ means that you’re losing from whatever a mark was. Right?
So, if you buy a stock, the mark is going to be the price that you bought it at. And, if you’re below that, you’re ‘in the losses.’ If you’re above it, you’re ‘in the gains.’
So, that would be on an actual ledger, right? On an actual balance sheet. But, we have this mental accounting that occurs, which gets distorted. So, sometimes it overlaps. If I buy a stock at 50 and it’s trading at 40, both on my physical ledger and my cognitive ledger–my mental accounting–I’m in the losses in both.
But, if I buy a stock at 50; it goes up to 75 and is now trading at 60, on my actual physical ledger, I’m in the gains $10. But, in my mental account, I’m in the losses $15 because I’m 15 short of 75 now. Right? Okay? So it doesn’t matter that I was up 10.
So, when we take, like, a marathon–and this really interesting thing about a half-marathon versus a full marathon or where we are in comparison to Everest–if it’s a half-marathon, the goal, the end point, is 13.1 miles. So, if I complete that, I am now no longer in the losses in comparison to that goal. But, if I only complete 13.1 miles in the context of a marathon, I am short 13.1 miles now: I’m in the losses. No matter that, if I created a physical ledger, I would be in the gains 13.1 miles.
In other words, physical ledgers measure from the starting line. But, mental ledgers measure from the finish line.
So, this is the problem we have with Everest, right? I’m 300 feet from the summit. Never mind that I just climbed 29,000 feet in the air. I’m a loser if I turn around because I’m closing that mental account in the losses.
So, if you wonder why does somebody continue past the turnaround time or even get to the summit at 4:00 PM–which is what Doug Hansen did, even though the turnaround time was 1:00 PM–it’s because he was in the losses–
Russ Roberts: In his head–
Annie Duke: And, as Richard Thaler–in his head–so, Richard Thaler points out, we do not like to close mental accounts in the losses.
So, anyway, Richard sent me something hilarious. It was like–it’s probably about a year ago and it was a little bit complex. It didn’t end up in the book. But, basically there’s some sort of argument now, among mountaineers, that if you look at, like, the popular peaks that people climb, there’s some argument about what the peak actually is.
Russ Roberts: Oh, love it.
Annie Duke: So, now, all of a sudden, they’re saying that a bunch of people who say they’ve done, like, the seven peaks or whatever, the seven summits, maybe they didn’t actually summit them because there is now an argument about what exactly is the top of Everest or what is the top of Tillman Borough[?], which just brings up the absurdity of all of this in the first place. It’s completely absurd, but it’s the way that we work cognitively.
Russ Roberts: Right.
Russ Roberts: But, I’m going to push back a little bit because I do think there’s a powerful reason that we struggle with this mental accounting. Right?
And, anybody who has run–who has been a runner or done the equivalent of running in a project, meaning a long, arduous trek–I think understands this.
And, I just want to say, and I used to keep this quiet because I thought it was too, it wasn’t sufficiently humble. I ran a full marathon when I was younger and finished in the blazingly fast time of four hours and 20 minutes. But, the fact is I am very proud of that. And, I’m proud of the fact that I finished. The fact that for the week after I couldn’t climb stairs without a great deal of pain–let’s put that to the side and let’s ignore the fact I could have really done some long run damage to my body.
But, the reason I finished–and it was painful. I wasn’t spitting up blood or anything and a bone wasn’t sticking out of my leg. But, the reason–it was hard–the reason I finished is partly because of my dad. My dad said ‘Don’t quit, finish what you plan.’ This whole idea of this mental accounting.
And the reason that’s useful–the flip side I think of your argument is–if you start off to climb Everest or run a marathon and say, ‘Well, I’ll just get as far as I’m comfortable and I’ll try to get far and whatever it is will be gravy. If it’s five miles, great. If it’s 13.1, I’ll be proud. Twenty would be wonderful. And, if by some chance I finish, ‘Oh that’s nice.’
You don’t get very far. Often, that we feel–at least, maybe it’s wrong–but we feel that if we take that approach, we’re going to cheat ourselves. We’re going to quit too soon.
So, instead we go to the other extreme. Which is insane. Which is: ‘Got to finish, got to finish, otherwise I’m a loser.’
And, we use that as a way to push past short run pain for long run benefit. It’s why we go to grad school. It’s why we invest in a startup. It’s why we run marathons.
And, a lot of it by the way, of course, is self-esteem. I mean, we didn’t talk about this, but when I read Into Thin Air, for me–and it’s a great read; if you haven’t read it, it’s an extraordinary read. I finished that book thinking: This is insane. This is–to what purpose did this person lose half his nose? To what purpose did these people die? They didn’t achieve anything. And of course, their answer would have been, ‘No, I tested myself and was not found wanting.’ [More to come, 36:59]