Free The Promise of a Pencil: How an Ordinary Person Can Create Extraordinary Change by Adam Braun Page A

work was error-free and my contributions to the team were valued, but there was a major issue. I looked as if I didn’t care in client meetings.
    I shrugged off the review and told them that I would try harder. But I knew it was a lie, just as they did.
    *  *  *
    A little more than a year into my job at Bain, in September 2008, Lehman Brothers declared bankruptcy. What would have happened if I’d gone right instead of left and chosen Lehman over Bain? The offer that appeared financially better ended up being far less secure. I realized how easily material things could be takenaway. I really began to evaluate what I was doing. I was partying nearly every night. When my doctor asked me how many drinks I consumed per week, I answered honestly, guessing about fifty. He looked up from his clipboard in shock. “Are you kidding? You’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up!”
    I recognized that my liver couldn’t sustain my drinking habit much longer. Worse, when I evaluated my life, I didn’t like whom I had become. I was completely self-absorbed, only chasing things that benefited me personally. I hadn’t done anything truly nice for anyone else since I’d moved to New York. Although I lived in a beautiful apartment and had access to parties, girls, and everything I thought I desired, I felt empty and awful inside.
    When I sat with my parents, I told them, “I want to work on things that I’m more passionate about.”
    “You can’t. First you need real-world experience,” they said. I was on a safe path to financial security, and they didn’t want me off it.
    “But I don’t feel like myself,” I complained.
    “That’s what it means to do a job!” yelled my dad. “Grow up, and stop being such a baby.”
    *  *  *
    He was right. It was time to grow up. A few months before, one of the world’s leading nonprofit foundations became a pro bono client at Bain, and I politely emailed the manager running the case to ask if I could join her team. She didn’t select me, and probably with good reason. During the annual company meeting, it was announced in front of every partner and manager that I was voted “Most likely to be sleeping in the wellness room,” which everyone knew was the spot for a nap after a big night out. The award itself was a playful gag, but it was a wake-up call for me about the reputation I was building within the company.
    I clearly needed to change things fast, and I couldn’t do so by waiting around for someone else to clean up my act. I needed to take charge of my own fate. I started by focusing on my health, spending less time at bars and a lot more time at the gym. My energy levels increased, and I found myself feeling more confident and alert in meetings. When another opportunity arose to work on a case with the leading nonprofit delivering poverty services within New York City, this time I didn’t ask.
    I sought out the person managing the case, my friend Priya, whom I used to prank all the time, and told her outright that I was going to join her team. I was serious about the work, and there would be no fooling around when it came to delivering results. When I told her I was prepared to start showing up in team meetings whether I was assigned to the case or not, she knew that she had no choice.
    Asking for permission opens the door for denial, and in this instance I would not be denied. The willingness to aggressively go after what I wanted most had become the other personality trait that I was known for at the company, so she was aware that I would do whatever it took to get on the case. I guess stealing a steak off a partner’s plate earns you that reputation.
    In the months ahead, working alongside Priya to help improve the operations of an organization that I wanted to see succeed allowed me to put everything I’d learned at Bain into action. The late nights building Excel models paid off, as did all those meetings where I reluctantly took notes. I now knew how to