During the past week two friends mentioned to me on separate occasions that one of their favorite chapters in my original People Tools book (still selling well on Amazon) is “The 80% Solution.”

The gist of that chapter is this: if someone in your life, or in your job or your home, meets at least 80% of your needs, then don’t look any further.  You don’t need to spend your precious time looking for someone who might be a little bit better. 

This particular People Tool has served me well. In most circumstances I’m very happy at or above 80%. But, upon reflection, I have one additional idea because, even at 80%, I haven’t been completely happy.

I always want my life to be better today than it was yesterday. This means I’m always looking for ways to improve myself – and, unfortunately, others. That becomes a problem when someone – say my wife – is only at 92% and I’m trying to “help” her improve to 100%.  (My version of 100%.)  But is it reasonable for me to expect her to become my sugarplum-fairy vision, meeting every one of my needs all of the time?  Of course not.  But until recently my repeated failure hasn’t stopped me from trying.

Today I believe that expecting a perfect performance from my spouse, or children, or anyone else (including myself) is a mistake, taking me down the well-populated road of conflict and dissatisfaction.

Have you ever tried to “help” your spouse, or anyone else you are close to, get better at pleasing you?  Perhaps you’ve had a running argument for years about the same issue.  And golly, they just haven’t gotten the message yet.  Maybe they will next time. Right?  Or maybe you’re just sounding like an old, broken record.

Forget a perfect “next time.”  That’s just your illusion.  In fact, forget whatever the issue is altogether.

If the issue is non-negotiable and you’ve been to therapy and you still aren’t satisfied after years of trying, the simple solution is to use your feet and leave.  If the issue isn’t all that important (and most aren’t), then change your expectation. I can live with being a few minutes late for dinner with friends.  After all, my wife seems okay with me not becoming vegan.  Now we both can relax and enjoy our mutual 80+% without the friction of failing by pushing for more.

If you’re feeling braver than I am, simply ask your family, friends, or significant other exactly what score they would give you. 

Or you can take my hint — It is extremely unlikely that they will award you a 100%, if only because they’re tired of your nagging.  As someone once said, “To err is human.  Not to forgive is even more human.”

I will not wish you luck on this one.  I do, however, wish you greater skill.

Alan

We can’t control everything that happens to us.  We might encounter unexpected health problems (such as my two surgeries earlier this year), the death of a loved one (my dad last May), or the dissolution of a close relationship (for me, early in 2018).  

We can, however, control our reaction to what happens.  I choose to respond with thanks and optimism, especially to a continuing problem or great disappointment.  I’m not saying that a positive response is always easy.  It’s not.  I strongly believe, however, that a positive response is always possible, and that it becomes easier with practice.  As Nietzsche wrote in 1888, “What does not kill me makes me stronger.”

My health has always been excellent. Until I was seventy-nine I’d only had one major surgery and that was an appendectomy when I was fourteen.  Then, unexpectedly, earlier this year I had two spinal surgeries. I’ve been told that my recovery will take at least a year, maybe longer, and might never be complete.  So what are the positives?

1. I’m closer to my family.
2. I better appreciate the value of working.  While I’m at my desk I’m unaware of my physical problems because I’m focused on my work.
3. My physical health will end up better than ever because, for the first time in my life, I’m exercising every day — even when I don’t have an appointment with my physical therapist or personal trainer. 
4. During the past few weeks my mood has improved, probably because of my exercise.
5. I’ve met two friends who have recently had similar surgeries. Although they’re younger than I am I’m encouraged because I think I’m recovering better than they are.

I’m at peace with the loss of my dad because we saw each other often and our meetings were always positive. I’ll give him a lot of credit for that.  I remember the important lessons he taught me, as well as all of the travel and other wonderful experiences we enjoyed together for almost eighty years.

As for relationships, I still remember a statement from the Harry Browne book “How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World.”  To paraphrase, he wrote, “Every time I’ve left a relationship my next relationship has been better.”

I’ve followed Browne’s advice, and it has usually worked for me.  After all, the most important relationship is always my current relationship, and that is going extremely well.  Could it be that my wife and I have each learned a lot and we’re better at getting along with each other than we were twenty years ago?

Health problems, deaths, and breakups can throw any of us off temporarily, but perpetual suffering is optional.

Alan

Years ago I studied with a psychiatrist who suggested that whenever we part from someone we love we should be complete. If we never see them again we will have said everything we needed to say, and heard everything we needed to hear.  Dad, I think you and I did that quite well with each other.

You died unexpectedly, a few days after each of us had been released from different hospitals. I had been in and out of the hospital for almost two months. The last time we saw each other we parted, as we always did, with a mutual “I love you.”

I know you were proud of me because you told me often. I know you said the same thing to many others.  Approval is important to every child, and I thank you for yours. I have done my best to carry your gift forward into the world – often telling my children, your grandchildren, that I love them and I’m proud of them. 

I don’t remember ever specifically telling you how grateful I am for all of the many life lessons you taught me, so I’d like to mention some of them now.

1. Treat everyone, no matter who they are, with respect.  I apply that lesson every day.
2. Plan for the future.  I know you grew up during the Great Depression, and when you were young you were concerned with saving enough money for the future.  I’m also a saver, and I think we both did a good job with that.
3. Work hard.  When you were a teenager you practiced the French Horn for three hours a day after school, and six hours a day when school was not in session.  That’s why you successfully auditioned for the position of First Horn with the Washington, D.C. Philharmonic Orchestra when you were eighteen, and the same position with the Minneapolis Philharmonic when you were nineteen.  I may have been a bit behind you, but I’ve certainly worked diligently ever since I started my own business at the age of twenty-seven.
4. Discuss problems openly and calmly with your family.  I’m grateful that when I was very young you started a “Family Conference.”  Whenever any of us had a problem with another family member you called a “Family Conference” in which we each could talk as long as we needed, without interruption.  We solved many problems that way. My eight-year-old self thanks you for the respect and my adult self thanks you for modeling that open communication.
5. Do what you love.  You encouraged me to become a CPA, and also to pursue my writing.

Dad, there is so much more, but I think I’ve hit some of the high points.

I hope you’re happy wherever you are now. I want you to know that every day I remember you and appreciate your wisdom and your confidence in me.

Thank you.

Love, Alan