Little Miss Mau and I were preparing for our epic Dragon Weekend, and the morning we were supposed to leave, the thing that stops every parent in their tracks started…
Cough. Cough.
No fever. But coughing. All night. Yacked a little bit. Oof.
We were supposed to take the train. Of course it was nearly sold out by the time I had planned it. Compartment only. Crammed in with 4 other strangers.
Driving?
I was picturing her coughing while I was driving 130 and trying to pull over to help her.
(That's kilometers per hour before you lose your mind and think I was committing a felony, Americans).
I watched her all morning and finally said:
"We're going."
She ate ribeye in a steakhouse. Chased a horse carriage for a kilometer through Krakow. Went to historical tram depot. The airplane museum. Ate ice cream for lunch (only once). Had an hour-long conversation with a stranger on the train in her third language. Came home with three stuffed dragons and zero regrets.
Would have missed all of it if I waited for the cough to stop.
Here's the thing:
Most people who are applying for jobs are waiting for the cough to stop. They're waiting for perfection. Perfection is the enemy of progress.
"I'll apply when my resume is perfect."
"I'll start interviewing when the market improves."
"I'll reach out when I have more experience."
There's always a cough. Always a reason to wait. Always one more thing to fix before you feel ready.
The candidates who actually get hired?
They go anyway.
Resume isn't perfect? Go.
Market is rough? Go.
Not sure you're qualified? Go.
The cough doesn't stop because you waited. It stops because you got on the train and said YOLO baby.
The candidate who showed up imperfect and ready beats the one who's still "preparing" every single time. People get hired when it's perfectly imperfect. An imperfect resume. A gap they couldn't explain. A skill they didn't have. A cough.
There's a chapter in my new book, "10,000 Interviews", about a phone call I made from a car in California with $17,000 in savings and a blog making $500 a month. Every logical reason not to make that call. I made it anyway.
That call led to four businesses, two continents, my wife, my daughter, a life I wouldn't have dreamed of a decade ago, and the book itself.
Chapter 4. It's called Courage. And it might be the most important chapter in the book — because none of the other moves matter if you never get on the train.
Price goes up in just 2 days.
Go here to get a copy before it's too late: