A Note to the Reader Because the pagination of this electronic edition does not match the print edition from which it was created, any references to specific page numbers should be ignored. Instead, to locate a specific passage within the text, please use the search feature of your e-book reader. Dedication For my Father (Con) and Mother (Mary) and for my three sons (Mike, Pat, and Jeff), for being my greatest character teachers. Epigraph When Socrates was unjustly imprisoned and facing imminent death, his jailers asked why he was not preparing for death. His response was simply “I’ve been preparing for death all my life by the life I’ve led.” —Coach John Wooden in How to Be Like Coach Wooden by Pat Williams Author’s Note The names and identifying details concerning some individuals, as well as some elements of these individuals’ stories, have been changed to protect their privacy. Contents A Note to the Reader Dedication Epigraph Author’s Note Introduction Part I: The False Promise of Achievement Chapter 1 - A Parade of Failed Promises Chapter 2 - How Did We Get Here? Part II: The New Performance Scorecard Chapter 3 - The Cry for a New Scorecard Chapter 4 - Character Comes in Two Types Chapter 5 - Building Your Scorecard and Training the Muscles of Character Part III: Character in Action Chapter 6 - It’s Never Just a Job Chapter 7 - What Business Leaders Can Learn from Sport Chapter 8 - Building Moral Character in Others: For Business Leaders, Parents, Teachers, and Coaches Part IV: Back to Chasing Achievement Again—with the New Scorecard Chapter 9 - Getting Your Story Straight About Achievement Chapter 10 - Winning with Your New Scorecard Acknowledgments Further Reading Notes Index About the Author Also by Jim Loehr Copyright Introduction Scott sits four feet across from me, a look of pained recognition in his eyes, and he appears nauseated. His annual salary is somewhere north of a million dollars (not including bonus). He owns three homes, never flies commercial, and commands the faithful service, perhaps even respect, of twenty-four hundred employees. At this very minute, though, this CEO looks as if he is quite literally about to throw up. I wish I could tell you it’s the first time I’ve witnessed such a moment. “I’ve been blinded by my ambition,” he says in a voice that is both biting and resigned. “Last night, when you had me examine my deepest values and examine how I’ve lived my life, it hit me like a freight train. I now realize that I’ve been hiding from the truth all along. I’ve been so eager to get to the top that I neglected the people and compromised the causes that meant the most to me. In a sense, I sold my soul. According to what I thought I wanted, I achieved it all. I’m pretty much on top of the world. But according to what I really feel matters to me—my family, my health, my relationships—I’ve failed. To be honest, I’ve known for a long time that at some level, what I was chasing was futile.” Then this man, this winner at all things, abruptly goes quiet—mystified, stunned, disillusioned. Scott’s profound realization occurred on Day 2 of a two-and-a-half-day workshop, one we’ve been conducting for fifteen years at the Human Performance Institute (HPI), a company I cofounded in 1992 with famed biomechanics researcher Jack Groppel. At HPI, we specialize in helping individuals and teams perform at the highest possible levels in high-stress environments. I’ve had many of these encounters with high achievers before, in both the world of sport, where I had the privilege of working with sixteen world number ones, and the world of business, where I counseled countless executives. All felt an irresistible need to confess that for years they had been chasing things that lack value. Seduced by a false promise of happiness, they devoted most of their energy to things that weren’t very fulfilling. As a result, while they had successfully achieved most, if not all, of the key indices of success in our society —power, status, beauty, fame, money, and other material wealth—somehow, feelings of dissatisfaction and disillusionment persisted. This book is not going to be a book about the evils of money, status, and other “superficial” markers of achievement. I will not suggest that you reject material things, creature comforts, luxury, a nice home, beautiful cars, or titles of prominence (whether that title be CEO or Wimbledon champion). Anyone familiar with my work over the years—virtually an entire career devoted to trying to help people accomplish great things—would find it quite incongruous for me to write a book explicitly assaulting the value of personal achievement. The problem, as I’ve come to see it with ever-increasing clarity, is how the blind pursuit of external achievement can, even when successful, result in profound emptiness for all of us. Years of work with superstars, high achievers, and otherwise rich and famous clients have profoundly affected my understanding of achievement motivation and goal setting. I’ve witnessed that it is not just Scott the CEO millionaire who feels as I’ve described him feeling, not just the Olympic gold medalist who wonders “Is that all there is?” Nor is it only the C-suite executive, the partner at a big law firm, or the Ivy League graduate who feels dissatisfied despite the outward success. It’s also the salesperson, the middle manager, the nurse, or the stay-at-home mom or dad who often suffers a similar plight. Why is that? Because the system that stirs these feelings is one that we all helped to create—leaders, managers, coworkers, coaches, teachers, and parents. It’s especially troubling that the roots of this system run so deep and wide that our children can’t help but drink from the same well: They are being nurtured in such a way that many of them will suffer much the same lack of fulfillment that so many of their parents do. In our work with thousands of clients, my colleagues and I have noted that it seems almost not to make a difference how much the individual earns or how apparently nice his or her home is. Does it really matter that Julie earns ten times what Earl earns, if the emptiness experienced by each is the same? What matters is the goals one has pursued—both the sacrifices one has made to achieve them and the obsessiveness (even addictiveness) with which one has pursued them— and the intrinsic satisfaction one has received from the pursuit.* And we have found that in most cases our clients are operating under assumptions about the personal return on their achievements that have not only failed to work but, astonishingly, have never even been properly vetted. Ponder these if-then statements for their inherent promise: If I summit Mount Everest, then I’ll feel like I’m someone special.