The Best Advice I Ever Got (14 page)

Thomas Friedman

Bestselling Author and Pulitzer Prize-Winning Columnist for
The New York Times

Be an Untouchable, Do What You Love

Do what you love. This is not sappy career advice but an absolute survival strategy, because, as I like to put it, the world is getting flat. What is flattening the world is our ability to automate more work with computers and software and to transmit that work anywhere in the world so that it can be done more efficiently or cheaply, thanks to the new global fiber-optic network. The flatter the world gets, the more essential it is that you do what you love, because all the boring, repetitive jobs are going to be automated or outsourced in a flat world. The good jobs that will remain are those that cannot be automated or outsourced; they are the jobs that demand or encourage some uniquely human creative flair, passion, and imagination. In other words, jobs that can be done only by people who love what they do.

You see, when the world gets flat everyone should want to be an untouchable. Untouchables in my lexicon are people whose jobs cannot be outsourced or automated; they cannot be shipped to India or done by a machine. So who are the untouchables? Well, first among them are people who are really special—Michael Jordan or Barbra Streisand. Their talents can never be automated or outsourced. Second are people who are really specialized—brain surgeons, designers, consultants, or artists. Third are people who are anchored and whose jobs have to be done in a specific location—from nurses to hairdressers and chefs. Lastly—and this is going to apply to many of us, people who are really adaptable—are people who can change with changing times and changing industries.

There is a much better chance that you will make yourself special, specialized, or adaptable—a much better chance that you will bring that something extra—if you do what you love and love what you do.

I learned that quite by accident by becoming a journalist. It all started when I was in the tenth grade. First, I took a journalism class from a legendary teacher at my high school named Hattie Steinberg, who had more influence on me than any adult apart from my parents. Under Hattie’s inspiration, journalism just grabbed my imagination. Hattie was a single woman nearing sixty by the time I had her as a teacher. She was the polar opposite of cool. But she sure got us all excited about writing, and we hung around her classroom like it was the malt shop and she was the disc jockey Wolfman Jack. To this day, her tenth-grade journalism class in Room 313 is the only journalism class I have ever taken. The other thing that happened to me in tenth grade, though, was that my parents took me to Israel over the Christmas break. And from that moment on I was in love with the Middle East. One of the first articles I ever published in my Minnesota high school paper was in the tenth grade, in 1969. It was an interview with an Israeli general who had been a major figure in the 1967 war. He had come to give a lecture at the University of Minnesota; his name was Ariel Sharon. Little did I know how many times our paths would cross in the years to come.

Anyway, by the time tenth grade was over I still wasn’t quite sure what career I wanted, but I knew what I loved: I loved journalism, and I loved the Middle East. Now, growing up in Minnesota at that time, in a middle-class household, I never thought about going away to college. Like all my friends, I enrolled at the University of Minnesota. But, unlike my friends, I decided to major in Arabic and Middle Eastern studies. There were not a lot of kids at the University of Minnesota studying Arabic back then. Norwegian, yes; Swedish, yes; Arabic, no. But I loved it. My parents didn’t mind; they could see that I enjoyed it. But if I had a dime for every time one of my parents’ friends said to me, “Say, Tom, your dad says you’re studying Arabic—what are you going to do with that?” Well, frankly, it beat the heck out of me. But this was what I loved, and it just seemed that that was what college was for.

I eventually graduated from Brandeis with a degree in Mediterranean studies and went on to graduate school at Oxford. During my first year in England—this was 1975—I was walking down the street with my then girlfriend and now wife, Ann, and I noticed a front-page headline from the
Evening Standard
. It said, “President Carter to Jews: If Elected I Promise to Fire Dr. K.” I thought, Isn’t that interesting? Jimmy Carter is running against Gerald Ford for president, and in order to get elected he’s trying to win Jewish votes by promising to fire the first-ever Jewish secretary of state. I thought about how odd that was and what might be behind it. And for some reason I went back to my dorm room in London and wrote a short essay about it. No one asked me to; I just did it. Well, my then girlfriend, now wife’s family knew the editorial-page editor of the
Des Moines Register
, and my then girlfriend, now wife brought the article over to him when she was home for spring break. He liked it, printed it, and paid me fifty dollars for it. And I thought that was the coolest thing in the whole world. I was walking down the street, I had an idea, I wrote it down, and someone gave me fifty dollars. I’ve been hooked ever since. A journalist was born, and I never looked back.

So whatever you plan to do in life, don’t just listen to your head. Listen to your heart. It’s the best career counselor there is. Do what you really love to do, and if you don’t know quite what that is yet, well, keep searching, because once you find it you’ll bring that something extra to your work that will help ensure that you will not be automated or outsourced. It will make you untouchable.

Wynton Marsalis

Internationally Acclaimed Musician, Composer, Bandleader, and Educator

Commit with Your Whole Heart

When I was a senior in high school, all my teachers and advisers said, “Don’t major in music because it’s too difficult to make a living. You need a ‘real’ profession to fall back on when the dream dies.” Because I was a pretty good student, one teacher even said, “Why would you waste your brain on music?” My mother told me, “Child, if you go into music you’re gonna end up struggling and suffering just like your daddy.” When I talked to my father, a great musician whom I had seen killing himself to make barely enough to take care of his family, he said, “Make sure you don’t have anything to fall back on … because you will. This is not for the faint of heart.”

Vera Wang

Internationally Acclaimed Fashion Designer

Life by Design

My life and my career have always been about a singular need and passion for self-expression. Whether it was my love of figure skating or my devotion to fashion: either way, both obsessions allowed me to envision a world of my own through which I could continue to learn and grow, artistically and creatively. For young people everywhere, I have some words of advice that, hopefully, will encourage them to search for their dream, live it, and embrace it. So here we go …

First, most of us do not necessarily grow up knowing what we want to do; that is a fallacy. Life is a process, and most of the time it’s impossible to predict where the journey will lead us. In my case, the journey to becoming a fashion designer started out on another path altogether. When I failed to qualify for the U.S. Olympic figure skating team, I realized that I had to find something that fascinated and captivated me as much as skating had. The dedication and determination necessary to compete at any élite level is so enormous, it is hard to replace that focus with just anything.

My subsequent trip to Paris, where I studied at the Sorbonne, was the very opportunity I needed to discover a whole new world apart from skating. I came home from the fashion capital of the world determined to chart my own career in fashion. That began with
Vogue
magazine, where I worked for seventeen years, followed by a stint as a design director at Ralph Lauren. Ultimately, my journey led to the creation of my own fashion company, twenty years later.

We are all frightened by change and by the unfamiliar, but those who remain open—despite their hesitations—can discover new worlds and opportunities. I’m always asked by budding fashionistas out there, “How do you get into fashion?” The best advice I can give is to study it, as you would acting or figure skating. School is a great place to start, but if that’s not accessible to you then try learning it from the ground up: Xeroxing, folding stock in a store, selling—at least, by experiencing it firsthand, you’ll find out if you really love it. If you already know your path and are fortunate enough to know yourself, the next best thing is to work for a designer, publicist, or publication that you truly admire. That way, you can learn how multifaceted the fashion world really is and how each business has its own specific DNA and business model.

Last, regardless of your passion, most people only begin to truly appreciate their careers, and their lives, as they improve and grow and achieve their goals on their own! That is where true satisfaction and dignity lie for all of us. No one can ever take something away from you if you’ve earned it. That is the beauty of achievement!

MINUTE PARTICULARS

On Doing What’s Right

Good manners sometimes means simply putting up with other people’s bad manners
.

—H. JACKSON BROWN, JR.

T
he English poet William Blake once observed, “He who would do good to another man must do it in Minute Particulars.” Minute particulars. Not grand gestures but everyday acts of kindness. They accumulate, and together provide the threads that make up our moral fiber. The writer Annie Dillard put it another way: “How we live our days, of course, is how we live our lives.” I listened to my minister, the Reverend Michael Lindvall, talk about “minute particulars” one Sunday and was struck by how closely his sermon aligned with my personal philosophy—or, at least, with the kind of person I strive to be.

Anyone who has taken Psych 101 is familiar with a concept called modeling. Good manners beget good manners, along with endless appeals to “put your napkin in your lap!” My dad was obsessed with a firm handshake and eye contact, as am I. My daughters could win gold medals for both. Kindness also begets kindness. It always gives me great pleasure and pride when I see my children showing people the respect they deserve—when they thank someone politely and tell him or her to have a good day, or hold the door for an elderly shopper. These are common courtesies that sometimes seem woefully uncommon. Parents have so much responsibility when it comes to shaping young minds—and an obligation to teach compassion, empathy, and tolerance, primarily through example.

I am a sucker for musicals. I know the words to almost every song written by Rodgers and Hammerstein. In fact, if I could have a career in anything besides TV, and if I had the God-given talent, I would be a Broadway-musical star. When I auditioned for my high school musical
Carnival
, I had fantasies of getting the lead role of Lily. Unfortunately, that went to Laurie Kittler. I was cast as a deaf person who didn’t speak. But I digress. I recently saw a revival of one of my very favorite musicals,
South Pacific
, at Lincoln Center. I was struck by the prescient lyrics sung by Lieutenant Cable:

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a different shade,
You’ve got to be carefully taught.

You’ve got to be taught to be accepting and kind and open-minded. You’ve got to be taught to stand up for the kid who’s getting bullied. You’ve got to be taught to speak out and take a stand against all kinds of bad behavior.

Being a good person pays off. If you’re kind and generous to your co-workers, they’ll celebrate your success. It will also keep your head from getting too big. When I was promoted to co-anchor of the
Today
show, a crusty older producer who’d seen it all told me something I’ll never forget. “Kid,” he said, holding his cigarette languidly, “today you may be drinking the wine. Tomorrow you could be picking the grapes.” In other words, don’t get too big for your britches, kid. All those people you pass as you climb the ladder of success could be the same ones who will catch you if you fall.

The digital landscape often sends us a different message. It’s so easy—and cowardly—to be an anonymous hater. Don’t let civil discourse become an oxymoron. Elevate the conversation online and in life. Rejecting nastiness that’s pervasive is brave and bold. The Internet is a miraculous, powerful, and equalizing tool. We’ve seen it expose repressive regimes and spur uprisings that can change the face of a nation. But it can also be a cesspool of snarkiness. Don’t get sucked in. In his book
Snark
, David Denby writes, “Snark often functions as an enforcer of mediocrity and conformity. In its cozy knowingness, snark flatters you by assuming that you get the contemptuous joke. You’ve been admitted, or readmitted, to a club, though it may be the club of the second-rate.”

Old-fashioned qualities like integrity, honor, and character may sound corny, but no matter how old you are they are qualities that never go out of style. As you’ll soon see—just ask Momo!