It happened late one night while Rich sat alone in his home office, contemplating selling his beloved three-year-old company.
He was about to break under the pressure of trying to balance his family and his successful but demanding business. It seemed that with every passing month, there was more to know—competitive analysis, technology advancements, industry trends, client updates—and less time to learn about it all. But Rich prided himself on knowing his firm inside and out, and he always found a way to stay on top of what was going on at Telegraph.
It was when he missed his third consecutive Little League game that things began to unravel. He and his wife had begun to lose patience with his increasingly unmanageable schedule, and as hard as he tried, Rich could see no relief in sight. Selling the firm and taking on a less demanding job seemed like the only way to alleviate the pressure on him and his family.
But the company had become such a part of Rich’s life that he was unable to pull the trigger on a sale. So he decided to try an experiment. For three months he would quietly limit himself to fifty-hour workweeks—far below his usual seventy—which would give Rich plenty of time for his family. At the end of the experiment, if the firm were showing any signs of distress, he would sell.
For the first month he struggled, often bringing work home with him in violation of his personal pact. Trying desperately to handle the same set of responsibilities in less time, Rich only seemed to be falling further behind. Both his family and his staff were equally unhappy with the change, one that they really didn’t understand.
Then, during another long and painful night in his home office, Rich made a decision that would change his career, his company, and his life forever.
On the verge of resigning himself to giving up the firm, he decided to make one final, desperate attempt at success. Instead of scouring his schedule each week in search of activities that he could eliminate, Rich decided to turn the nature of his inquiry upside down. He wrote a simple question on a piece of paper:
Rich stared at the question for almost an hour. Nothing came to him.
Then he suddenly began to laugh to himself. Even he wondered if the situation wasn’t driving him a little crazy.
But nothing about the way Rich felt was irrational. In fact, his laugh was driven by equal parts of absurdity, simplicity, and insight. As the gravity of his breakthrough soaked in, Rich began to write his thoughts down on paper.
After almost two hours, Rich had abandoned his goal of identifying a single area of focus in his job. Instead, he expanded it to four basic activities—disciplines, really—which he neatly captured on a yellow piece of legal paper. He placed it inside his briefcase and went to bed with a sense of excitement, relief, and hope that he hadn’t felt since starting the firm three years earlier.