Competence Isn't Enough

©2006 Stuart Scott

    When I was a little boy, I wanted to be just like my Dad. Strong, brave, the smartest man in the world, a man who could do anything.

    Then adolescence set in. Dad suddenly ceased to be the man he'd never been.

    I realized there were things he didn't know and things he couldn't do. I was deeply disillusioned, and I switched my allegiance to a superior role model, a man who truly could do anything. Shoot straight with either hand. Outwit the baddest men in the world. Mix the perfect martini. Even Dad couldn't hold a candle to James Bond.

    I admired Bond's aplomb in handling any problem that came his way. That's who I wanted to be. A man who could survive anything, anywhere. It wasn't the spirit of adventure that called to me. It was the hope that when things went wrong in my life I would know enough to make them right and survive another day.

    Of course, James Bond didn't represent life in the real world. That's what I liked about him. I didn't like the real world, where things go wrong and people get hurt.

    No doubt that's why I gravitated, early in my career, to helping companies define their business processes and procedures and best practices. I wanted people to master the "right" way to do things. I had an almost religious belief in the power of competence to make life turn out right.

    I'm not the only person who ever believed in the magic of know-how. Far from it. Many people think that with the right training, the right credentials, the right expertise, success follow automatically. Just listen to parents making college plans for their kids.

    But my quest for total competence hasn't led where I expected. The world has not deferred to my superior know-how. In a career of over two decades, few of my colleagues shared my need to do things the "right" way. Most were more interested in getting results. And surprisingly often, they did, despite false starts and wrong turns and rework. Time and again, I saw—and was amazed—that know-how didn't guarantee success and inexperience didn't guarantee failure.

    Some say it's never too late to learn. I agree. It took many years, but I've finally reached the unexpected but inescapable conclusion that mere know-how is never enough. No matter how much I learn, life will keep throwing surprises my way. Even the most knowledgeable know-it-all wakes up each morning to a new day full of surprises. When life serves up a curveball, we can't just call a time-out until we've mastered the new challenge. Though even now I sometimes wish I could.

    I've finally let go of the belief I acquired as a young boy that there's only one right way to do a job. I've learned I can deal with problems I've never seen before. I've learned I can stumble, and make mistakes, and still have life work out pretty well on any given day. I've learned not only that I don't have to be perfect, but that there's no such thing as perfect.

    Paradoxically, my need to feel competent got in the way of my growth and success. It held me back from taking on new challenges, from following my curiosity to new places.

    I can tell you from experience: people who believe there's only one right way to do a job don't like to make commitments. They don't want to commit unless they know they can deliver. So they usually hedge their promises. They commit only to doing their best under the circumstances. Which is like promising to be faithful to your spouse as long as you don't meet anyone more attractive. It's not much of a commitment. In fact, it's no commitment at all.

    Maybe the need to be competent at all times is an unconscious strategy for avoiding commitment. That's certainly how it worked in my life. I'm glad I've finally learned that commitment brings greater rewards than competence. When I commit to take on something I don't yet know how to do, I discover the abilities, resources, and support I need. I've learned that commitment precedes competence. I used to think it was the other way around.

    When I was a little boy, I wanted to know everything so I could make sure nothing ever went wrong. And so, with the best of intentions, I became a know-it-all. But I'm recovering. I've learned the hard way that knowing it all is no way to live. That no matter how much training and experience we get, life remains a magnificent and mysterious improvisation.

    It's finally OK with me to be a know-a-little with a lot to offer. Just like Dad.

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