Question Your Assumptions For Which Life & Career Risks Really Matter

Someone called me “brave” in the Stanford MBA program

Which risks really matter? Drawing by me.

“You’re so brave.” I’ve heard these words repeatedly in the last few weeks from fellow MBA students at Stanford.

I’m just completing my first year in the two-year MBA program and am heading into summer. Most folks go into a few hot fields, e.g., 80% of 2021 grads went into consulting (18%), finance (33%), and technology (29%).

And what am I doing this summer? Exploring opportunities to freelance or bootstrap a business in my home country, Norway.

Why do I deserve this label of “brave?” Which risks am I taking on? And how are these risks different from those my classmates face?

After dozens of conversations with classmates and days of reflection, I want to share what I’ve discovered with you.

Why am I “brave”?

I’ve asked my Stanford MBA classmates: What would you be afraid of in my shoes? Long-term financial risk? Or disappointing myself by failing to accomplish my stated goals?

One person said she felt a fear of missing out when everyone was recruiting for summer internships. Another said, “I don’t know if I could stand out like that.” And a third said that he struggled to forego the opportunity of making tens of millions of dollars in private equity, and that even $300k / year felt insufficient.

Granted, some classmates experience real, financial pressures. They might be supporting others or graduate with student debt. Many students are also genuinely passionate about aspects of finance or technology. Yet, this doesn’t answer what qualifies me for the label of “brave.”

Perhaps my classmates don’t realize the immense social security I get by going back to Norway, a country with universal healthcare and good public education. If I needed employer-sponsored health care, or had to save for my kids’ education, maybe I’d feel differently.

Or perhaps some classmates fear the reputational risk of standing out.

I’m “brave” because I want to explore something different from the norm in the hyper-localized bubble of Stanford MBA students. For deviating in a neighborhood where the default paths are venture capital, private equity, consulting, or Silicon Valley entrepreneurship.

And honestly, I understand my classmates’ fears, because sometimes I get reactions that validate their fears.

The worst is when I see the other person feeling awkward for me. Like they don’t know what to say and are inwardly wondering whether I just couldn’t land an internship.

What a few people look like when they hear my summer plans. Drawing by me.

My plans won’t offer the outsized $$$ offered by private equity. And they won’t let me attract press for my latest fundraising round, in a land where business success is strangely proxied by fundraising milestones rather than revenues and margin.

Luckily, most reactions don’t carry judgment but instead demonstrate open-minded surprise. “I didn’t realize it was an option not to do an internship,” said one friend.

After all, most students in the Stanford MBA program — me included — have spent their lives following scripted paths and racking up credentials. We gravitate towards LinkedIn resume items with the most prestige. We’d rather be hollow CEOs of billion-dollar unicorns than fulfilled teachers, film directors, or middle managers at social impact-oriented companies.

For the surprised classmates, I’m “brave” because I’m daring to leave the paved road to find the hidden trails.

I myself don’t feel like I’m making brave choices. Instead, I’m weighing other types of risks — risks that are far more looming to me.

What are other types of risks?

Imagine the risk of realizing too late that one made money by making low and middle-income families worse off.

Or think about the risk of wishing one spent more time with family. Tim Urban describes how he’s savoring the last 5% of his in-person time with his parents now that he sees them only a few times per year.

Or the risk of deviating from your mission. I’ve listened to countless EdTech founders lament having raised venture capital, only to discover that maximizing returns for investors is at odds with their founding mission to help students.

Countless founders struggle with mission drift after raising venture capital. Drawing by me.

Or even the risk of foregoing an opportunity to do what one really loves. For instance, I’ve romanticized being an independent creator for years but never tried it. I might hate it, but I might also love it.

These risks matter to me. The question is, which risks matter the most? And how do they compare to each other?

How to weigh the different types of risks?

You decide for yourself which risks matter most to you. I’m currently learning how to weigh these different risks for myself and don’t have it figured out.

Until recently, I wanted to start a venture-backed company. And I previously worked for McKinsey (like so many Stanford MBA students) and a fast-growing tech scale-up.

But I’ve felt the gravity of the other types of risks in these roles. I’ve felt as if parasites hollowed me out, as I worked to make partners, executives, and myself richer. I know now that I need to feel confident that my impact makes the world more just, with better outcomes for all.

We‘re each given 2.5 billion heartbeats and it’s up to us to make them count.

If you reflect on your own life, how do you want to spend your heartbeats? Maybe you’re already striking a balance that feels right to you. Or perhaps you’ve been ignoring some types of risks? If so, how do those risks align with the professional and personal choices you’re making?

If your reflection leads you to choices that others consider “brave,” then lean into it. It means you’re onto something.

You may also enjoy Mental Models for Career Decisions for Happier, Fulfilled Lives.