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Expecting perfection can be problematic in life. Whether you’re always looking for the perfect mate or ever-searching for a more perfect career, obsessing about perfection can leave you perpetually unsatisfied and get in the way of your own happiness. That’s why, years ago, I developed a simple philosophy that I call, the “80% Solution.”

When I start to feel unsatisfied with some dimension of my life, whether it’s a job, a relationship, or an employee, I mentally list all of the strengths and weaknesses in the package. Then I compare my assessment to my vision of perfection.

If the picture adds up to at least 80% of my ideal, then I will happily stay with what I have, and not spend a single second considering alternatives. If the “score” is between 60% and 79%, then I might start looking. Below 60%—it’s time to make a change . . . the sooner the better.

Here’s an example. Many years ago, a friend told me about a real estate broker who, she claimed, was excellent, and asked if I would be interested in meeting him with an eye toward replacing my existing full-time broker, Danielle.

I always aim to improve my business and my life, so I gave serious thought to that question. I mentally assessed Danielle’s strengths and weaknesses, compared them with my ideal, and found that her score was 87%. Not perfect (who is?) but quite high. After reflecting for a few days I called my friend and said that I was very happy with Danielle and didn’t care to meet a possible replacement.  Danielle and I have now worked happily together on real estate for more than forty years.

The 80% Solution is especially powerful in the realm of romance. Is your spouse or partner perfect? Not if you’ve lived with him or her for more than a few days. The proper question is not, “Is he or she perfect?” The useful question: “Is he or she good enough?” And if he or she is good enough, then I say magnify his or her positives and minimize their negatives. I know many couples in which each partner has confided in me that their spouse is not perfect, but many have been together for more than twenty-five years.

The 80% Solution works. Granted, this method is entirely subjective, but what in your life isn’t? Your 80% might not be my 80%, but it is your 80% and that is what is important to you. Maybe you are more particular than I am and will only settle for a score of 90% (Good luck with that!). Maybe you’re more laid back than I am, and 70% is fine for you. No problem. Maybe you prefer a different score for different situations. Live it up, create a matrix. The important point is to pick a standard, and live with it, and them.

The 80% Solution can be applied to many parts of your life. Everything considered, does your job score 80% or more in your mind? If it’s only 40%, what is preventing you from getting the heck out?

My cousin Laura called me recently. “I want a divorce,” she said.

“Laura, you called me ten years ago and told me the same thing.”

“I know. But this time I mean it.”

“So leave him, Laura.”

There was a long pause. “But I like to interact with someone when I get home at night.”

Maybe “someone to interact with” was worth 80% all by itself. More likely, Laura is using a different scoring system than I am, and will accept a low score because she fears the unknown.

You can also apply 80% Solution to yourself. Are you at or above 80% of your ideal for yourself? Think about it. You can’t very well eliminate yourself from your life, so if you’re not quite there yet your task here is to bring your own score up to whatever you want it to be.  You can accomplish this in two ways: lower your expectations, or improve your own score. Either route has its challenges, but if you follow one, or both, I’m confident that you’ll be far more satisfied with yourself and your entire life.

Alan

Many years ago, when I visited my son Craig at Stanford University his friend Bertram lured me into a game of darts in the student lounge. Our target was the typical small dartboard. Although I won the first game, Bertram won the next two. In fact, after my initial “beginner’s luck,” many of my darts bounced helplessly off the wall.

Any goal in life is a target. I want the job. I want to make the sale. I want to win the game. Often when the goal is especially important the target seems to shrink to a tiny dot, much like the apple resting upon the head of William Tell’s young son as he was forced by the Austrian governor to prove his prowess with a bow and arrow.

You can either approach archery the hard way, like William Tell, or the easy way. The hard way is to practice, practice, practice, taking greater and greater risks under more and more challenging conditions. Certainly practice and challenge are useful tools. But there is an easier way to hit your target:

Expand your target.

Instead of using a minuscule bull’s-eye, try aiming at a target as big as an IMAX screen. This technique produces even more bull’s-eyes than Bertram made when he won our second two games of darts.

The obvious question is, how can you expand your target? The answer is simple: make your goals more and more general.

Here’s an example. When I met Jerry he was thirty-one, divorced, and desperately seeking to meet a twenty-five year old woman, fall in love, get married, and have three children—boy, girl, boy. The woman had to be at least five feet six inches tall, never married, and successful in her career but willing to give it up and stay home with their children.

Jerry was aiming at a rather small target. As months became years, Jerry dated more than thirty different women. Most of them were tall, never married, and successful in their careers. None was willing to marry Jerry, have three children, and abandon her career to stay home with their as-yet-unborn children.

One day Jerry called me, very excited.

“I want you to meet Jan,” he said. “Can you and Daveen (my wife) have dinner with us Saturday night?”

I checked my calendar. “We’d love to.”

As we were driving home after a lively evening, Daveen was surprised.

“I thought that Jerry only dated women who were five feet six inches or taller,” she said. “Jan is shorter than I am. She couldn’t have been more than five foot two.”

“I think you’re right.”

“And there is no way in the world that woman is going to give up her $200,000-a-year TV production job to stay home with babies.”

“True. In fact she said that she wasn’t sure she wanted more than one child, two at most,” I added.

“What happened to Jerry’s checklist?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll ask him.”  The next day I called Jerry. “Daveen and I enjoyed our dinner with you and Jan.”

“Yeah, isn’t she terrific? I think we might get engaged.”

“That’s great, Jerry, but I thought you were looking for a taller woman who would stay home with your three unborn children . . .”

“That was two years ago,” he said. “Time has worn me down, thank goodness.”

“So you’re willing to settle?”

“No way. I’ve just expanded my horizons.”

“Jerry, you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“Sure. It’s true that I used to be very particular about who I dated. I carried around in my head a catalogue, like a spec sheet for a new car, and if a woman didn’t meet all the qualifications I wouldn’t even ask for her phone number. But it didn’t work.”

“Not enough candidates?”

“No. I met a number of great women, but I began to realize that my requirements were too restrictive. I mean, five foot six, five foot ten, five foot two—what difference does it really make?”

“None to me, but you’re in charge of your life.”

“Exactly. I learned that what I really wanted was someone who is fun to be with, a good companion, and someone who adores me.”

“Jan certainly seemed to meet those requirements.”

“You bet.” I could feel Jerry’s enthusiasm over the phone. “As I said, I just broadened my horizons.”

Expand your target. It works!

Alan

This cry is attributed to Crazy Horse, one of the American Indian leaders at the Battle of the Greasy Grass (commonly referred to as Custer’s Last Stand), which took place on June 25 and 26, 1876.

The obvious interpretation of this declaration is that “today is a good day to die in battle,” but by looking a little beneath the surface we might find a more valuable insight.

I remember an often-repeated statement by my eighth grade science teacher, “Read yourself full, then write yourself empty.”  He was talking about studying science, but isn’t that what each of us does every single day?  We fill ourselves with information from outside our skin, then spin it back out, into the world, mingled with our own unique sensibility.

Caretakers working with hospice patients who are near death uniformly report that few regret what they have done in their lives, only what they have left undone: that two-week trip to Europe, perhaps a few “I’m sorry’s,” or one final, unsaid, “I love you.”

None of us know which will be our final day. It could very well be today. This is why I think we could, and should, compress our best selves into this very moment.

I have thought, said, and accomplished much in my more than seventy-five years of yesterdays.  My voice will not be heard in that luminous tomorrow, where eternity has no ears.  I can only write myself empty today.

Maybe Crazy Horse was more lucid than his name implies.  I think he shouted, “Today is a good day to live.”

Alan