People who waste my time are my least favorite people.
I’ve come to appreciate time more than any other commodity, money included.
Spending much of my time in Brooklyn, I’ve gotten very accustomed to people trying to stop me on the streets to donate money to their new music conservatories and art galleries.
I go out of my way to make myself look very unapproachable, but people still try to stop me and ask me questions. If I was in their shoes, I’d be terrified of myself. I’m built like a hockey goalie (with all that equipment on). I’m 6’6 and have incredibly broad shoulders. On top of this, I always make my face look angry about something or other—this way people will be scared to approach me, yet they still do.
Whenever you see people on the city streets canvassing around with gift bags full of airheads or some other kind of outdated candy, they’re always full of sh*t.
Every time I see this particular group of guys, I make sure to avoid eye contact, but they intentionally try to block my path so I can’t get by. They even bend down in front of me, trying to look up, essentially forcing me to make eye contact with them.
I’ll do everything in my power to steer clear, but these guys never fail to force a confrontation.
They start poking me on the shoulders. First lightly, then harder because I won’t give them my attention.
Yesterday, a group of them were hanging out at Atlantic Avenue Station. Seeing them from about 100 yards away, immediately gave the 1000-yard stare right past them, not acknowledging their existence.
Unfortunately, I had to get closer in order to get to my train.
“Hey, man! Hey!”
Nope. Don’t break stride, Mike. Stopping is a weakness.
“I know you hear me.”
Of course, I hear you; I’m deliberately choosing to ignore you.
He taps me on the shoulder.
“Come on, man. Listen to me.”
He’s walking alongside me now. There’s no escaping him unless I were to run.
He begins poking at my arm now, harder than before. His pokes are almost punches.
I’ve had enough.
I stop walking, still facing straight-forward.
I take my headphones out, one at a time.
I turn to face the man, towering over him. I look down into his eyes.
“You touched me once. You won’t let it happen again. Do you understand?”
His eyes are wide—taken aback by my confrontation.
“Is that a ‘yes, sir’?
“Sorry, man.”
“No. I said, is that a ‘yes, sir’?”
“Yes, sir.”
“5.”
“What?”
“4. 3. 2. 1.”
He quickly turns and walks away, giving it a bit of a hustle, not sauntering in the slightest.
This is what I’ve learned. Confidence wins all battles. People are terrified of confidence.
Let’s be realistic—if this man really wanted to, he could’ve called his buddies over and they could’ve detained me and poked me all day. They could have murdered me if they so desired. My confidence shut this man down, completely emasculating him in front of all his friends. I honestly wish there were women watching because this was a hardcore display of dominance.
A similar thing happened at dodgeball the other day.
My team ran out of dodgeballs, so the other team was holding onto all 8 dodgeballs. My entire team was huddled at the back of the court, waiting for the other team to throw balls their balls. The other team never threw their balls though; they preferred to hang onto them, using them for nothing more than intimidation.
Sick of waiting around, I decided to run at the other team, even though I had no dodgeballs. I screamed at the top of my lungs, ferocity in my eyes. I imagine I looked like I was running onto a battlefield.
The other team’s confidence wavered. They all instinctually rushed backward, away from me, terrified of getting attacked.
What did they think I was going to do? I had nothing to throw at them and I couldn’t cross the line to rush them, or I’d get disqualified.
After post-analysis, I discovered something wild.
Intimidation crushes logic.
Though my maneuver was entirely illogical (it made literally no sense), the other team was truly terrified of me. I instilled concrete fear into their eyes.
After a few seconds of stand-off, they realized that I was powerless. 8 balls came flying at me, simultaneously. Still shocked by my bold confidence, their accuracy was awful. All 8 balls missed me, arming my entire team with all the dodgeballs in the game.
Needless to say, we won.
Be unapologetically confident, even when all hope is lost.
Embrace confrontation.
Until next time,
Michael J. Erickson, CEO & Co-Founder
