The sunk cost of our ambitions

Time, money, effort and energy: what if it’s all for nothing?

Lately my LinkedIn feed is filled with people making moves.

People leaving companies they’ve been with forever, people changing industries entirely and small business owners going back to traditional employment after years out on their own.

And behind closed doors, clients and friends alike are finding themselves at a crossroads, carefully, cautiously whispering to me that, “Maybe I want to do something else all together.”

It’s not surprising really, given the shake-up we’ve had over the past few years, from COVID to rising inflation to layoffs, political upheaval and more. Nothing feels settled; everything feels slightly precarious. And everyone is exhausted.

We’re all at a collective crossroads as we re-imagine how we work and what place it has in the context of our lives (more on that in a future post).

But it got me thinking about the sunk costs of our ambitions.

Chances are good that whatever it is you’re doing now, you’ve likely invested incredible effort, energy, time, money and resources to get where you are.

Maybe you’ve gone back to school to pursue an advanced degree to position you for a new role, maybe you’ve worked your way up the corporate ladder to finally sit at the leadership table, maybe you’ve been toiling away as a small business owner for years or maybe you’ve been out of the workforce for a while and are finding your way back in.

Wherever you’re at now, I’m guessing it took considerable commitment and care to get you there.

It probably wasn’t a linear path and it likely had its shares of ups and downs. Maybe it’s brought you high degrees of happiness and success; maybe you’ve felt like Sisyphus more days than not, pushing the boulder up the hill to keep it from rolling right over you. Or more than likely your journey has been, like mine, somewhere in between.

But now here you are, where you are, doing what you do.

And you might be wondering whether you want to keep doing it.

*and if you’re not wondering, then awesome! Keep doing your great work out in the world. 😊

But what if you’re not so sure?

What if you’re wondering if the path you’re on is still worth it or whether it’s still the ambition you once sought out?

What do you do then?

Last week I saw a post by

Shenee Howard

that made me pause.

I’ve known Shenee for more than a decade because of our online entrepreneurial circles and I had the pleasure of meeting her back in 2014 at Chris Guillebeau’s World Domination Summit in Portland, Oregon. She is smart, hilarious and super savvy about business.

She’s been her own boss for almost as long as I have: 12 years to my 15, I believe.

And she’s going back to find a job. In one of her posts, she says;

I’m looking for a job. 

I know, gasp. 

This isn’t something you are supposed to say, and that’s exactly why I’m saying it and why I think it’s worth explaining. 

Being a full-time business owner isn’t just about the work, but it’s also about ENERGY. This is the part people don’t talk about.

Marketing is a lot. Selling is a lot. Running a business on your own is a LOT.

And typically, that energy isn’t a big deal, especially if that’s all you are doing.

It’s another story if you want to use that energy for other things too. For me, that means building my writing and creating a career. I want to do a LOT of stuff beyond being a marketing strategist.

The tricky thing is in order to do both, I need an enormous amount of energy. I need the energy to sell and run my business, which is increasingly hard in the face of a recession and a crumbling niche. 

I love the fact that Shenee has the courage to say the quiet part out loud — that this isn’t working in the way she needs it to and that it’s crowding out space she wants to allocate for other aspirations and priorities.

I’d bet that many of us have felt our version of this over the years, whether it’s staying in a job that’s robbing us of joy and leaving no time for anything else, running a business that feels hard more days than not, recognizing that the work we’re doing isn’t the work we want to be doing, or acknowledging the apathy that’s hit us hard after a bad bout of burnout.

To name that truth is hard; to change it can feel impossible.

Because despite what we might first proclaim as our reasons for staying put (money, convenience, colleagues, flexibility), the reality is that often we stay where we are, even when we don’t really want to, because of what’s called sunk cost fallacy.

Or put another way:

“How can I leave this [insert job, industry, profession, company] after I’ve invested so much [time, money, mental energy] into it? Isn’t that just one big colossal waste?”

Sunk-cost fallacy (noun):

the phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial

If you’re older than 12, you’ve likely bumped up against sunk cost fallacy.

Whether you’ve switched sports or teams, changed majors in university, ended a relationship with the ‘almost right one’ or left a good job in pursuit of a great one, we all navigate decision points that make us pause first.

This is a common conversation I have with my clients, as each one of them have reached a stage of their careers where they’ve poured a tremendous amount of themselves (along with resources) into getting where they are.

And now — especially now — many are asking if it’s ok to change their minds or shift course. They are seeking permission to put down the balls they’ve been juggling for years, maybe even decades, and pick up some new ones, even if this means leaving behind everything they’ve worked so hard to build.

Years ago, way back in 2018 when the world felt a little more stable, I recorded a podcast called, “Nothing is ever wasted. It’s all useful.”

The general thesis was this: regardless of the scale and scope of our pivots, everything we’ve learned, created, achieved and built comes with us wherever we go and to whatever we do next.

And while it may take a different form or shift from the foreground into the background, it’s there with us, informing how we engage and grow now, if we let it.

At every juncture we have an opportunity to pause, reflect and remember that our life is a constellation of things — our strengths, skills, experience, wisdom, world view and education — not one sole bright star at risk of exploding into oblivion because of one wrong move.

Our ambitions may change, but what we bring to them only grows.

Here are five reminders if you find yourself caught in the sunk cost fallacy:

1. Our ambitions don’t exist in a vacuum. They are at the mercy of external forces (political, economical, market changes etc) and personal circumstances that are often largely outside our control. Digging our heels in, sticking our fingers in our ears and going, “lalalala” in hopes of ignoring what’s happening around us isn’t particularly productive. It’s ok (and likely needed) for our ambitions to adapt in the face of relentless change (not to mention our own desires and interests).

2. Our continued investment in what is here now, may keep us from what could be. This isn’t a call to go chase every bright shiny object, but rather to highlight the possible opportunity cost of staying where you are (particularly if it’s not serving you). What might be possible for you if you gave yourself permission to evolve? What opportunities could you pursue if you let go of those which no longer serve you now?
   

3. Our learnings don’t disappear. Just because you shift gears — slightly or radically — doesn’t mean you leave everything you’ve learned behind. You get to bring it all along for the next ride, and apply it in new and creative ways. And it’s entirely possible that even if it’s not directly applicable to the next thing, it may be just the out-of-the-box thinking to add tremendous value. Nothing is wasted; it’s all useful.
   

4. Our pivots aren’t indicators of failure, but of flexibility. If you’re reading this thinking, “Sounds good in theory, but if I change gears aren’t I just signalling to everyone (and myself) that I couldn’t hack it where I was and that I’m a big failure?” rest assured that a) nobody is paying as much attention to your every move as you are, b) they likely admire your courage to change, and c) failure only truly exists if we forgo the learning that comes from it.
   

5. Our past investments still matter. Just because we might leave something behind, doesn’t mean we didn’t create and derive tremendous value and benefit from what we’ve done up until this point. Changing gears doesn’t negate everything that came before. Own your accomplishments and commitments, even if they aren’t the ones to carry you into the future.

It’s not easy to shift gears, especially when we’ve wrapped up a lot of our identity in the thing we’re doing now.

And it’s totally normal to question ourselves, doubt our capacity to shift gears and worry that we might throw away the one thing we’ve poured our blood, sweat and tears into.

But what’s at stake if we don’t at least entertain the possibility that something needs to give, even if in the process we may to give up a lot?

If any of these words ring true, take a moment to really ask yourself these questions:

• What’s at stake if I stay where I am, doing what I’m doing?

• What does my life look like five years out, 10 years out or longer?

• Does that vision inspire me or deplete me?

• What might open up for me if I made a long overdue change?

• Can I give myself permission to expand into deeper waters instead of contract into shallow shores, even if I don’t know how it will all work out?

If you hesitate on even one of those questions, it’s worth digging deeper (and I can help!).

Remember that exploration doesn’t equal confirmation.

You aren’t beholden to any thought or realization you may have; it’s all just information to inform what could be next.

And if you remember nothing else (she says to herself), remember this:

The people we admire most in life are those who are brave enough to take risks in service of their own dreams.

And our admiration often comes after they’ve made the big pivot, not during the messy middle, because that’s what our social media world likes to highlight.

But they too once stood at the precipice of indecision and doubt, battling their own version of sunk cost fallacy. They doubted whether it was too late, whether they had what it would take, and whether it would be worth it after everything they'd invested up until now.

And then they decided to jump, knowing that they had a strong parachute and a backpack filled with everything they’d need for their next adventure.

Steph

I’d love to hear your experiences of navigating sunk cost fallacy. Share in the comments.

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