I’m afraid to love.
The instance you feel like you’re on the path to accomplishing all of your goals, you get blindsided by love. Love is dangerous. In such an unpredictable world with infinite variables, the knowledge you develop over time reduces the risk of your future decisions. Love is added risk. Even though you reach the point where your life decisions are made intuitively like you were Gandalf’s apprentice, love cripples your decision making ability with a significant amount of risk.
Let D = Decision
D is a function of a subset of infinite variables, narrowed depending on the scope of D.
D(x1, x2, …, xn)
N -> infinity
x takes the form of the scope. So for example if you were to make a structured business decision, namely the output of implementing a new IT enterprise tool for your client, it might only take into account x1, x2, and x3, where:
x3=future interest rate fluctuations. I don’t know.
The function might be defined:
These variables — although not set to discrete values (because nothing in the world is black and white) — are assumed to approach them, because you’ve been doing it over and over for years so you know the ballpark of where these values may fall under.
Here’s an example:
Suppose Ramsay worked at a consulting firm and his manager approached him with a client. The client wants to enhance her cyber security for her firm to protect her data from potential DOS attacks.
Her budget is 100 grand.
You know of a modular and versatile software patch, applicable to all systems, that’s hands-down the most optimal security measure to block DOS.
The interest rate is at a steady 0.5%.
So when you make the calculated decision of whether to implement the solution, your function would look like this:
D(100k, patch, 0.5%)
Straight forward, right?
Where’s the love?
Doesn’t matter what decision you make in life, love forces its way into it like a root breaking the cracks of freshly paved concrete. Realistically, your equation would be
This changes our previous example.
Ramsay finishes his calculation and is about to approach his client to offer her his input. He strides past his colleagues’ cubicles and has tunnel vision on the glass door to the meeting room where the client is sitting.
Ramsay knows a fat commission is anxious to get into his chequing account once him and his client shake hands, and takes confident strides towards the door.
His millennial instincts stops him dead mid-stride and forces him with the power of the universe to check the incoming data on his phone.
we need to talk
What was temporarily an 'ignorance is bliss’ black box now had a flashlight exposing all of its inner workings. Normally, Ramsay routinely left in the morning after he kissed her, and started his job before he even got to the office. The Kanye power songs he blared from his Audi gradually abstracted away all personal thoughts and put him in a state of mind thirsty for the paycheque.
He kept his phone off DoNotDisturb obviously for emergencies that could unexpectedly arise from his close ones. Not for the message he just received. Now the reality of his personal life rushed through the corporate elevator and into his office. While he was consistently professional.
This is all for her. The money, the job, the decision making.
D(100k, patch, 0.5%, we need to talk)
You know when something significant happens in your life but you need a minute to process, so it seems shocking to outsiders why you appear so calm?
Ramsay thought he could ignore it. He opens that glass door and greets the client. As he sits,
we need to talk
He stutters. It should’ve been so simple. He’s done it a thousand times over. The client is not happy with his conduct. Sure, numbers don’t lie. But customers also judge their supplier’s character. She leaves and goes to a competitor who offers her the same thing. Lucky bastard who got that commission didn’t carry his personal phone.
Love is dangerous.