🎧 C2 Advanced English Listening Practice | Native-Level Conversations

Welcome back to the deep dive.

We're uh doing something a little different today.

>> Just a little.

>> Usually we take a topic, you know, nuclear energy, the history of coffee,

whatever it is, and we just we drill down into the facts, >> right?

The what, the where, the when.

>> Exactly.

But today, we are turning the microscope on the tool itself,

the tool we use to talk about those facts.

>> We're looking at language.

>> We are looking at the language of certainty.

And I mean, I don't just mean vocabulary.

I'm talking about the psychological scaffolding we build kind of automatically whenever we open

our mouths to predict the future.

>> It is a fascinating area.

Yeah, genuinely because it sits right at the intersection of, you know, linguistics,

cognitive science, and and honestly a bit of game theory.

>> Game theory.

How so?

>> Well, because so much of our life is lived in the maybe.

>> Yeah.

>> We're constantly making bets based on incomplete information,

and the words we choose are how we signal our confidence in those bets.

That's the problem right there.

That maybe it feels like the default setting for for everything.

>> It's the safe zone.

>> Yeah, it is.

You ask someone if they can hit a deadline.

Probably.

You ask if a stock is going to go up.

Well, it might.

It's It's linguistic tidity.

It's lowresolution communication.

>> Low resolution.

That is a great way to put it.

It's like you're trying to watch the world in 240p.

Maybe just blurs all the important edges of reality.

And the sources we've pulled for a day, and they really do range from,

I mean, advanced grammar mechanics all the way to behavioral economics papers,

they all suggest that relying on maybe isn't just, you know, annoying.

>> It's more than annoying.

It's actually a cognitive failure.

It limits your ability to properly assess risk.

And this is a big one.

It can drastically lower your perceived status in any kind of hierarchy.

>> See, that's the hook for me.

The idea that clarity equals status.

that if you can move from maybe to a more precise calibration of reality

using concepts we're going to talk about like black swans

or foregone conclusions,

you aren't just speaking better English.

>> We're thinking better.

>> You're thinking better.

Exactly.

>> And that's our mission today really to take you, the listener,

from that basic murky 240p uncertainty to what I'd call C2 level fluency in

nuance.

>> I like that.

C2 level fluency.

We aren't just going to learn some fun idioms, though we will.

We're going to look at why.

Why saying 90% success triggers a completely different part of your brain than saying

10% failure,

even though the math is absolutely identical.

>> Okay, so let's do it.

I want to start at the top the top of the food chain of

certainty.

>> Okay, >> we spend so much of our time hedging, you know, saying probably,

but sometimes things are certain

or at least we need to frame them

as certain to get people to act.

Yes, you need to cut through the noise.

>> And the sources highlight this fantastic phrase, the foregone conclusion.

>> It's a heavy hitter.

It really is.

The term itself has such a rich history.

It actually uh pops up in Shakespeare in Aello.

>> No kidding.

>> Yeah.

But back then it meant something slightly different.

It meant sort of a past experience that determined a present bias.

But over the centuries, it's drifted.

It's evolved to mean a result that is so inevitable,

so baked in that we can treat it as if it has already happened.

>> It's the removal of agency, isn't it?

If I say it's a foregone conclusion that the company is going bankrupt,

I'm not predicting.

I'm saying the script has already been written.

>> Yes.

The actors are just saying the lines, the play is already over,

even if the curtain hasn't dropped.

And psychologically, that is a very, very powerful place to put an audience.

>> It shuts down debate.

>> It shuts down debate.

Think about the sports analogy that one of the texts uses.

It's the fourth quarter of a basketball game.

One team is up by say 25 points.

Yeah.

And there's 45 seconds left on the clock.

>> Okay.

So, the players are still running.

The clock is ticking.

You know, the laws of physics are still active in the arena, >> right?

All true.

And theoretically, I suppose lightning could strike the arena

or the entire winning team could simultaneously get a full body cramp,

>> right?

theoretically, >> but practically the game is over.

The result is fixed.

Calling it a foregone conclusion allows our brains to stop processing all those tiny

absurd what-ifs.

It's a kind of cognitive relief.

>> But let me uh let me play devil's advocate here for a second.

Isn't there a danger in that?

A huge danger?

I feel like I've seen business leaders declare something a foregone conclusion.

You know, oh, the regulators will definitely approve this merger.

It's a foregone conclusion. and then they just get completely blindsided.

>> And that is the trap 100%.

That's what we call hubris masquerading as a probability assessment.

>> Hubris, good word for it.

>> But that's also why the phrase is so useful for persuasion.

If you use it, you are signaling supreme confidence.

You're telling your team, "Stop spending mental energy worrying about this variable.

It is solved.

Move on to the next problem."

>> So, it's a tool.

It's an efficiency hack.

As long as you happen to be right, >> as long as you aren't wrong.

Because if you are wrong, you don't just look mistaken.

You look like a fool.

But if you're right, >> you look like a prophet.

>> You look like a prophet.

That's the gamble.

>> Okay.

So, there's another phrase in this this high certainty bracket

that feels a little less,

I don't know, a little less Shakespearean.

Bound to as in it's bound to happen.

>> Bound to is interesting.

It's different.

It implies more of a a mechanical connection.

It comes from the old idea of binding of being tied.

>> Oh, literally tied.

>> Literally.

So it is bound to rain implies that the atmospheric conditions, the humidity,

the pressure are now physically tied to the result of precipitation.

You can't untie them at this point.

>> It feels fateful.

They are bound to find out.

It sounds like a line from a nor film.

>> It does, doesn't it?

>> Yeah.

>> It removes the element of randomness.

And that's really what we're doing when we ramp up our language of certainty.

We are trying to eliminate the terrifying randomness of the universe just for a

moment.

Speaking of eliminating randomness, let's let's run to the other end of the spectrum,

the impossible.

>> Okay, >> I love how creative we get

as humans when we want to say no.

We don't just say zero probability.

We invent these elaborate impossible scenarios.

>> The adineton.

>> Bless you.

I was going to say hyperbole, but that's much better.

>> It's the proper rhetorical term for it.

Aden, a figure of speech in the form of hyperbole

that is so extreme it implies impossibility.

>> Like a snowball's chance in hell.

>> The absolute classic.

The imagery is just it's so visceral.

You take the most fragile thing you can imagine, a snowball,

>> melts in your hand, >> right?

And you place it in the most hostile environment imaginable.

Hell, the thermodynamics are pretty clear.

>> It's instant vaporization.

There's no other outcome.

>> But notice the utility of that phrase.

If I say to you,

there is a very low probability of this plan working.

You being an optimist, you might hear >> So you're telling me there's a chance.

>> Exactly.

The dumb and dumber line.

You hear 5%.

Maybe 1%.

And you think I can work with 1%.

>> Right.

It's not zero.

>> It's not zero.

But if I say that plan doesn't have a snowballs chance in hell,

I am shutting down that cognitive pathway completely.

I am telling you in no uncertain terms, do not spend one more dollar.

Do not spend one more minute of your time on this.

It is a hard stop.

>> It's efficient.

Maybe a little rude depending on the context, but it's incredibly efficient.

>> It leaves no room for misinterpretation.

>> And then we have the barnyard animals.

When pigs fly.

>> Ah, the gold standard of impossibility.

It's been around for centuries in various forms.

One of the sources mentioned

that in Scotland they used to say

when cows fly.

>> Why are we so obsessed with flying mammals?

What is it about that?

I think it's just the ultimate image of absurdity.

It mocks the very premise of the question it's answering.

If you ask your boss for a 50% raise

and he just looks at you

and says,

"Sure, when pigs fly," he isn't just saying no.

>> No, he's saying more than that.

>> He's ridiculing the request.

He's saying your request is

as compliant with the fundamental laws of reality

as a a porcene aviator.

>> I'm going to use a a porcene aviator.

But, you know, the sources make a distinction here that I think is really,

really important, especially for anyone listening who, you know,

plays the stock market or invest in startups.

>> A critical distinction.

>> It's the difference between when pigs fly and a long shot.

>> Huge difference.

Massive.

Because longot sounds negative.

It sounds like a bad thing, but it's actually kind of positive, isn't it?

>> Probabilistic.

>> Yeah, >> that's the key.

The term longshot comes from uh naval benery or possibly archery.

The history is a bit murky, but the idea is simple.

>> You're shooting at a target from a very great distance.

>> So, it's difficult.

>> It is very difficult.

You will probably miss 99 times out of 100.

But, and this is the crucial part,

the physics of the situation allow for a hit.

It is possible.

>> So, if I pitch you a startup idea and I say, "Look,

I know this is a long shot, but hear me out.

I'm acknowledging the risk,

>> but I'm inviting you to take that risky journey with me."

>> Yes.

You are framing it as a gamble, not as a delusion.

If you came to me and said,

"My startup succeeding is like pig slinging," you're telling me you're delusional.

>> Right?

>> But if you say it's a long shot,

you are invoking the powerful underdog narrative.

And we humans, we love an underdog.

We love a long shot.

We buy lottery tickets cuz they're long shots.

We don't buy lottery tickets for things that have a snowballs chance in hell.

>> That distinction is so vital.

It's the difference between 1% and 0%.

And that 1%, that's where all the hope lives. and all the venture capital.

>> True.

Very true.

Okay.

So, most of life obviously isn't at 0% or 100%.

It's in that murky, I don't know, 60 to 80% range.

>> The messy middle.

>> The messy middle.

And the text offers this phrase that I think every middle manager,

every project lead needs to tattoo on their forearm.

>> Yeah.

>> In all likelihood, >> it is the ultimate professional hedge.

In all likelihood, the merger will go through.

>> It's beautiful.

But why is that better than just saying probably?

It seems to mean the same thing.

>> Ah, but it doesn't feel the same.

Probably feels subjective.

It feels like you're shrugging.

It's a guess.

In all likelihood, on the other hand, sounds like you've done the math.

>> It sounds analytical.

>> It does.

It implies you have surveyed all the possible likelihoods.

You've weighed them against each other,

and this is the one that has emerged as dominant.

It sounds like you've done your homework.

>> But, and this is the key, it still leaves you an out.

Oh, absolutely.

That's the genius of it.

It's a verbal escape hatch.

If the merger fails, you can come back to the board and say, "Well,

as I said, it was in all likelihood,

but sadly the unlikely low probability event occurred."

You are never technically a liar.

>> It's a suit of armor made of words.

>> It really is.

It project authority while maintaining perfect plausible deniability.

It's a masterpiece of corporate communication.

>> Okay, I want to pivot now to what I think is the weirdest

part of English probability,

the sarcasm.

We have this this trio of phrases.

Good chance, slim chance, and the one that breaks all the rules, fat chance.

>> The fat chance anomaly.

This drives linguists absolutely crazy,

and it trips up non-native speakers all the time.

>> Because it makes no logical sense.

None.

Good chance means high probability.

We all get that.

Slim chance means low probability.

Okay.

Slim is small, that tracks.

>> So, logic would dictate that fat chance, since fat is the opposite of slim,

should mean a huge probability.

It should mean abundance, a fat wallet, a fat harvest.

It should be the best kind of chance.

>> But it's not.

>> It's not.

It means zero.

>> It means absolutely zero.

And with a side of mockery.

>> Yes.

If I ask, do you think I can get tickets to the Taylor Swift

concert the day before the show

and you say fat chance?

You are laughing at my foolishness.

>> This is a linguistic phenomenon called antifracis.

It's a fancy term for using a word to mean the opposite of its

literal sense,

usually for ironic or sarcastic effect.

>> But why?

Why do we do it?

Why make language harder and more confusing?

>> Because probability isn't always about math.

It's often emotional.

When we use fat chance, we're usually being dismissive.

We're using sarcasm to critique the absurd optimism of the other person.

It's a social signal, not just a mathematical one.

>> So slim chance is sympathetic.

Is that the difference?

>> I think so.

Yes, there's a slim chance you'll get tickets.

In that sentence, I'm on your side.

I'm telling you, the odds are bad,

but I'm kind of sad about it for you.

We're in it together.

>> And fat chance is adversarial.

>> It's completely adversarial.

Fat chance you'll get tickets.

With that, I am mocking you for even thinking you could.

I'm putting distance between your silly hope and my cynical reality.

>> That is such a subtle but incredibly dangerous nuance.

If you use fat chance in a sincere business email, you know,

writing to your boss, don't worry,

there is a fat chance we hit our quarterly target,

>> you are going to get fired.

>> Or at the very least, you'll be sent to a remedial communication seminar.

It's a classic error.

>> Yep.

Okay.

Let's move away from the words themselves and get into the wiring,

the actual wiring of the brain.

The sources you found include some heavy research on what's called risk and framing.

>> Yes.

And this is where we stop talking about grammar

and start talking about how easily well how easily manipulated we all are.

>> This is the domain of behavioral economics.

Yeah.

The most famous example

which is cited in our material comes from the groundbreaking work of Daniel Conorman

and Amos Tverki.

It's often called the Asian disease problem in the original literature

but we can just call it the framing effect.

>> Okay.

So walk us through it.

The percentage perception thing.

>> Okay.

So imagine you are a doctor.

Yeah.

You have a patient and they're contemplating a very difficult surgery.

>> Uhhuh.

>> You have two ways to present the statistical truth to them.

Option A is you say this surgery has a 90% survival rate.

>> Sounds pretty good.

>> Option B is you say this surgery has a 10% mortality rate.

>> Right?

Mathematically those are identical statements. 90 + 10 equals 100.

The reality of the situation is exactly the same.

The reality is the same, but the decision your patient makes is not.

The research shows overwhelmingly that when presented with the 90% survival frame,

the vast majority of people choose to have the surgery.

>> Why?

>> Because their brain hears survival, it latches on to the positive outcome, the gain.

>> And the other way, the 10% mortality.

>> When you say 10% mortality,

expectance rates for the surgery drop off a clash significantly

because the brain doesn't hear the 90%

that isn't being said.

It just hears death, >> mortality, >> and we hate losing.

>> We are wired to hate losing.

It's a cognitive bias called loss aversion.

We are far more motivated to avoid a loss than we are to achieve

an equivalent gain.

The pain of losing $10 is much stronger than the pleasure of finding $10.

>> So by simply flipping the frame from success to failure,

you can I mean you can manipulate the outcome of a life

or death decision.

>> Manipulate is a strong word, but in essence, yes.

The more neutral term is choice architecture.

But if you are a project manager presenting a risk to a stakeholder,

this is probably the most powerful tool in your entire arsenal.

>> So if I go to my CFO

and I say there is a 95% chance we stay under budget,

the CFO is happy.

He pats me on the back.

>> He's thrilled.

>> But if I walk in

and say there is a 5% chance we below the budget,

even though it's the same reality, >> the CFO starts asking for an audit.

You have triggered their anxiety center.

You've framed it as a loss.

So real fluency in probability isn't just about knowing the odds.

It's about knowing how to present the odds to get the reaction you need.

>> This leads us directly, I think, to the concept of the black swan.

This term gets thrown around a lot, especially in tech and finance circles,

but I want to really drill down into it

because it feels like it fundamentally changes how we should view risk.

>> It absolutely does.

This was of course popularized by the writer Nasim Nicholas Talb

and his core idea is

that our standard models of probability,

you know, the bell curves we all learned in high school statistics class are

worse than useless for the things

that actually matter >>

because bell curves are all about the average,

the predictable stuff.

>> Exactly.

They deal with what Talib calls mechristen things like human height

or weight or test scores,

things that have natural limits.

But history, finance, technology, they aren't driven by averages.

They are driven by the extreme unpredictable outliers, the black swans.

>> And the definition has three parts, right?

It's an event that is one, extremely rare, >> an outlier.

>> Two, it has a massive game-changing impact.

And three, and this is the part that always gets me,

we rationalize it afterwards as if it should have been predictable all along.

>> That retrospective predictability is the absolute key to the concept.

We look back at the 2008 financial crash

or the CO9 pandemic

and we all say,

"Oh, of course the signs were there."

>> All right, we connect the dots backwards.

>> But in the moment in 2006 or in 2019,

those events were invisible to our standard models.

They weren't on the bell curve.

>> The source material uses the turkey analogy,

which I think is just brilliant for explaining this.

>> It's the perfect illustration of why relying on past data on probably can

fail us so catastrophically.

So imagine you are a turkey.

Okay, I'm a turkey.

>> A friendly farmer comes out every single morning and feeds you.

Gives you delicious food, fresh water.

>> Life is good.

I love this farmer.

>> Life is great.

Every single day that passes,

your statistical confidence that the farmer is a benevolent provider who loves me increases.

You have hundreds of data points, all pointing in the same positive direction.

On day 100, your model is screaming that you're safe.

Your confidence is at its absolute peak.

>> And day 101 is Thanksgiving.

>> Exactly.

The one event that completely destroys your entire existence is the one event

that was never in your data set.

That is a black swan.

>> So when we're sitting in a business meeting talking about risks

and someone dismisses an idea by saying,

"Oh, that's highly unlikely.

Our data says that's never happened before."

They might be they might be the turkey.

>> They are almost certainly the turkey because in complex systems,

the unlikely event is often the only one that matters.

It's the one that wipes you out.

So sophisticated language around probability requires us to stop asking how likely is it

and to start asking what is the impact

if it happens.

>> That's a great transition to another phrase from the research, the realm of possibility.

>> Yes, I see this as the antidote to the turkey problem.

It's a phrase you use to justify contingency planning for things

that otherwise seem absurd.

>> Like it is within the realm of possibility

that our entire cloud server infrastructure goes down for a week.

>> Exactly.

Is it likely?

No.

It's a long shot.

Or maybe even worse.

>> But is it in the realm of possibility?

Yes.

And because the impact would be catastrophic, we need a backup plan.

We need a generator.

>> It's a phrase

that allows you to sound sane

while you're preparing for the apocalypse.

>> Laughing.

It's corporate prepping 101.

It gives you permission to think about the unthinkable without being labeled an alarmist.

>> But our brains, our own brains fight us on this, don't they?

We don't want to think about the power grid failing.

We want to think about the sunny day tomorrow.

This is optimism bias, right?

>> It's deeply hardwired into us.

And for good reason, evolutionarily speaking.

If our early human ancestors spent all day paralyzed by the fear of every

possible predator or natural disaster,

they never would have left the cave to find food.

>> We evolved to be slightly productively delusional.

>> We overestimate our control and we underestimate the risks.

>> The classic example is the planning fallacy, which is a subset of optimism bias.

You see it in huge government construction projects.

You see it in software development.

And you see it in your own garage on a Saturday.

>> Oh, the DIY project.

I'll just replace this leaky faucet washer.

It'll take 10 minutes tops.

>> And 4 hours later, your kitchen is flooded.

You've broken a pipe and you're frantically searching for an emergency plumber's number.

Why do we do that?

I have flooded the kitchen before.

I know from past experience it's harder than it looks.

Why do I still think it will be easy this time?

Because your brain in that moment of planning,

it divorces the painful memory from the current intention.

You focus on the ideal path.

You imagine the wrench turning perfectly.

You don't imagine the bolt being rusted shut or the screw stripping.

>> So, how do we how do we use language to perform a kind

of mental judo on our own brains to fight this?

>> You invoke Murphy's law.

>> Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

>> People think it's a joke or a pessimist mantra.

It's not.

It's a powerful heristic.

It's a tool.

When you plan a project, you should explicitly and seriously apply Murphy's law.

You should sit down and ask, "Okay, assume the crucial delivery is late.

What's our plan?

Assume the main server crashes.

What do we do?"

>> You force your brain to visualize the friction, the things that could go wrong.

>> Exactly.

You drag your brain out of its happy, optimistic fantasy and into the messy,

complicated reality where things break.

I want to touch on the grammar of

that messy reality because English has a very specific

and I think very cool set of tools for talking about the things

that didn't happen.

The near misses, the alternate timelines, >> the counterfactuals.

Yes, this is getting into some highlevel grammar.

Your could have, should have, would have.

>> It's the grammar of the multiverse >> in a way.

Yes.

When you say, "I could have missed

that train," you are actively constructing an alternative reality in your head.

A reality where you are standing on the platform watching the train pull away

and feeling that sinking feeling.

>> And we use this to generate emotion, right?

To tell a better story.

>> Absolutely.

We use it to heighten the drama.

If I just say, "I caught the train," that's that's boring.

It's just data.

>> But if I say, "I narrowly avoided missing the train."

Or, "I was on the verge of missing it."

>> Oh, on the verge of That's a great one.

It implies you're teetering on a precipice.

We were on the verge of bankruptcy before we landed that last client.

It makes the eventual success feel like a dramatic rescue,

not just a business transaction.

>> It turns a spreadsheet into a thriller.

>> That's it.

And that's what good communicators do.

They don't just report the odds,

they make you feel the proximity of the risk that was avoided.

Now, we can't have a deep dive on communication without talking about culture

because maybe means something very different in New York than it does in Tokyo.

>> Completely different thing.

>> The sources have this fascinating section on cultural indirectness.

>> This is an absolute minefield for anyone working in global business.

The anthropologist Edward T.

Hall, he made this key distinction between high context and low context cultures.

>> And the US, the UK, Germany were low context. very low context.

We like things to be explicit.

There is a 20% risk of failure.

This is a bad idea.

We should not do it.

We put the meaning in the words.

>> But in a high context culture like Japan

or many Arab and Latin American cultures,

the meaning is it's in the air.

>> It's in the relationship between the speakers, the setting, the non-verbal cues,

the history, and most importantly, in the silence.

The Japan example in the text is a classic.

A western manager proposes a risky new plan.

Their Japanese counterpart might listen patiently and then say,

"That is a very interesting proposal.

It would be prudent to consider the possibility of difficulties."

>> And to an American ear, that sounds like, "Okay, good point.

We'll make a note of it in the plan."

>> Right.

Great.

We'll add a difficulty section to the risk register.

Moving on.

But in the Japanese context, that phrase is a five alarm fire.

It's a siren whailing.

>> What does it actually mean?

It means this is a terrible idea.

It is impossible.

It will bring shame upon us all.

And please do not make us lose face by forcing us to say the

word no directly to you.

>> So considering the possibility of difficulties is actually code for this has a

foregone conclusion of failure.

>> Precisely.

You have to translate the probability based on the cultural code.

If you take the words literally,

you will drive your project straight into a wall.

>> It's about reading the room, not just reading the dictionary.

Which I guess leads to the last big idea here, code switching.

You don't talk to your boss the way you talk to your friends after

a few drinks.

>> We kind of circle back to this with fat chance.

You have to match the register, the formality of your language to the situation.

>> So, give me the spectrum.

If I want to say something is very unlikely, what are my options?

>> Okay, so at the most casual level with your friends, no way.

Not going to happen.

Fat chance.

That's a long shot, >> right?

moving up to a standard professional setting.

That's highly improbable.

It's unlikely.

The projected outcome is negative.

>> Okay.

That's what you'd say in an email to your boss.

>> Yes.

And then if you're in a very formal or academic setting, your C2 level,

>> the probability is statistically insignificant.

There is a negligible probability of that outcome.

Or you might even bust out a that's a foregone conclusion

if you're feeling bold.

>> And the warning from the text is clear.

Never ever mix them up.

Do not tell the board of directors

that their five-year strategy has a snowballs chance in hell.

>> Unless, you know, you either have tenure or you're planning a very dramatic exit,

>> right?

>> Or unless you really want to make a point

and you don't care about the consequences,

>> which ironically would make your imminent firing a foregone conclusion.

>> I see what you did there.

Yeah.

Very nice.

>> Before we wrap up, there's one last thing.

We've talked about logic, math, psychology, culture, but at the end of the day,

we're still superstitious animals >> deep down.

>> We still try to use language to to control the universe.

>> You mean like knock on wood >> or touch wood, right?

>> If you're British, why do we do this?

I mean, I know atheists who do this.

I do it.

>> It's fascinating, isn't it?

The roots are ancient.

It goes back to pagan beliefs. the idea

that spirits or dryads lived in trees

and you'd touch the wood to either ask for their protection

or to sort of thank them

so they wouldn't get jealous of your good fortune.

>> Later Christians associated it with the wood of the cross, right?

>> They did.

But functionally today, it's all about the fear of jinxing something.

It's the fear that by acknowledging a good thing, you're tempting fate.

>> Exactly.

My car has been running perfectly for 6 months.

Knock on wood.

It's an admission that you're not in control.

It's a humble brag to the cosmos.

>> It's an acknowledgement that no matter how much we calculate,

no matter how many foregone conclusions we declare, there is always randomness.

There is always a black swan lurking out there.

>> It's a humility mechanism.

And honestly, in the context of everything we've talked about,

it's probably a pretty healthy one.

It keeps us from getting too arrogant with our predictions.

So we've been all over the map here from Shakespeare to Nasim Taleb from

flying pigs to to dying turkeys.

What is the synthesis?

What's the big takeaway?

How does the listener actually use all this?

>> I think the single biggest takeaway is that precision is power.

If you are stuck in the blurry 240p land of maybe and probably,

you are a passenger in your own life.

You are letting events happen to you.

>> You're reacting >> completely.

But when you start using this toolkit,

when you can identify a potential black swan,

when you know how to frame a long shot to inspire your team,

when you can spot the optimism bias in your own planning,

you become the driver.

>> You stop just describing the world

and you start framing it for yourself

and for others.

>> Exactly.

You gain agency.

You sound more authoritative.

You sound more articulate because you are thinking more clearly.

You aren't just throwing vague words at a situation.

You're dissecting the very nature of its probability

and handing the pieces to your audience in a way they can understand.

>> And that is a skill that pays off everywhere,

whether you're negotiating a multi-million dollar deal

or just trying to explain why you're going to be late for dinner.

>> Although, I probably wouldn't recommend telling your spouse

that your on-time arrival was a long shot from the beginning.

>> No, probably not.

Better to stick with narrowly avoided catastrophic traffic.

>> Ideally, >> yes.

Okay.

So, here is my challenge to you, the listener.

We talked about optimism bias and the planning fallacy.

This week, I want you to audit yourself just once.

When you look at your to-do list for the day

or you make a promise to a friend about

when you'll get something done,

just stop and catch yourself >> and ask the hard question.

>> Ask yourself, am I being the turkey?

Are you just assuming the farmer loves you because he's always fed you before,

or are you taking a second to look around for the axe?

>> Apply Murphy's law just for one task.

Think about what could go wrong

and see if it changes your plan

or your timeline.

>> And if it does, maybe you'll avoid your own personal black swan.

Touch wood.

>> Touch wood.

>> That's it for this deep dive.

We'll see you in the next reality.

>> You know that feeling, right?

That uh that specific heavy knot

that just forms right in the center of your stomach.

>> Oh, yeah.

I know exactly what you're talking about.

>> It happens when you're staring at your phone

and you're watching those three little dots. you know,

they bubble up and

then they disappear >>

and then they come back >>

and then they come back again

and you're just waiting for a text

that could,

I don't know, change your whole weekend or maybe your entire relationship status.

>> It's a kind of modern torture really.

>> It is.

Or or maybe you're refreshing a web page just over

and over waiting for a medical result to finally load.

The screen just flickers, nothing changes,

and your heart rate just it spikes just a little bit more with every

click.

And that's a universal human condition.

It's actually physiological.

Your body is preparing for a threat.

But the problem is it doesn't know

which threat is coming

or if a threat is coming at all.

>> It really is an itch.

It's this desperate almost clawing need to know what happens next.

>> We just >> we crave certainty.

We want the world to be a script that we've already read.

You know, we want spoilers for our own lives.

We want to skip to the end of the book just to make sure

the main character us makes it out.

Okay.

But that's the problem, isn't it?

The world rarely cooperates.

>> Never.

It's messy.

It's chaotic.

And it is absolutely packed with variables we can't possibly control.

>> And that disconnect, I mean,

that massive gap between our evolutionary desire for a guaranteed outcome and the,

you know, the reality of a probabilistic world.

That's where so much of our anxiety comes from, >> right?

>> But what's really fascinating

and what sources we're looking at today get into is

that it's not just an emotional problem.

We tend to frame it as stress or worry,

but it's actually a cognitive problem, >> a thinking problem.

>> Exactly.

And as we're going to discuss, it's very much a linguistic one, too.

We sort of lack the internal software to process randomness,

and we often lack the vocabulary to describe it accurately.

>> Exactly.

So, welcome back to the deep dive.

Today, we are unpacking the psychology and language of risk.

>> It's a big one.

>> It is.

We are looking at a just a massive stack of research articles

and discussions from the Advanced Learner Studio all focused on this idea of navigating

uncertainty.

And let me tell you, this is not just about, you know,

how to play poker better or which stocks to buy.

This is really eye- openening stuff about how your brain is wired

and how that wiring trips you up every single day.

>> It really is.

What we have here is um it's like a road map.

It connects cognitive science. how our brains actually process the very concept of chance

with,

you know, high level corporate strategy.

>> That's a huge leap.

>> It is, but it's connected.

The sources cover everything from the cognitive biases

that make us frankly terrible at gambling to the very specific negotiation tactics you

need to survive a boardroom meeting

when things are going south.

It's all about the intersection of math, psychology, and um and speech.

So, if you are listening to this,

our mission today is to equip you with two very specific tools.

First, we want to give you a BS detector for your own brain.

>> I like that.

A BS detector.

>> Yeah.

We're going to show you why you constantly overestimate these big dramatic risks

and at the same time completely ignore the boring ones

that are actually more likely to,

you know, get you.

We want to stop you from freaking out about the wrong things.

>> And secondly, we're going to build you a toolkit, >> a verbal toolkit.

We're going to give you the precise phrases, the idioms,

the sentence structures you need to deliver bad news professionally >> because let's face it,

sooner or later you will have to tell someone

that things aren't going according to plan.

And the goal is to make sure

that no matter how uncertain the situation is,

you never get shot as the messenger, >> which is a very, very real risk.

I think we've all seen that happen.

Someone walks into a meeting, they deliver bad news really clunkily, and suddenly boom,

they're the villain.

>> They become the problem. they are the problem.

So let's jump right in.

Let's start with the hardware.

Let's start with the brain

because the source material suggests

that when it comes to calculating risk,

our uh our operating system has a few.

Let's call them bugs >> or glitches in the matrix, if you will.

The sources are pretty unforgiving here.

>> They basically argue that human beings are by nature terrible at intuitive statistics.

We think we're being logical.

We think we're analyzing data, but most of the time we aren't.

What are we doing then?

>> We are pattern matching.

We're pattern matching machines designed for the savannah, not for the stock market.

And the first big concept we need to unpack to understand why is something

called the availability heruristic.

>> Okay, let's unpack this.

The availability heruristic, it uh it sounds like a fancy academic term.

If I had to guess just based on the name,

>> does it mean I just believe whatever information is most available to me?

Like whatever is right in front of my face, >> you're very close.

It's more like I believe what I can remember most easily.

The availability heristic is a mental shortcut.

And a heristic is just a fancy word for a mental shortcut where we

judge how likely an event is based on how easily we can recall similar

examples.

>> So if you can picture it easily,

if it just pops into your head instantly with no effort,

your brain makes a leap and assumes it must happen all the time.

It judges probability by ease of retrieval.

>> Okay?

So it's not about logic.

It's about memory retrieval.

It's about how vivid something is in my mind.

>> Exactly.

Vividness is the key word.

Think about it from an evolutionary standpoint.

If you're walking along

and you see a lion jump out from behind a rock,

you need to remember that vividly so you don't get eaten next time.

>> Your brain prioritizes the dramatic, the emotional, the loud, >> right?

It doesn't prioritize the subtle or the slow creeping risks.

>> No, it's terrible with that.

So, this is why um

if I binge watch a show about shark attacks

or maybe I just rewatch the movie Jaws,

I suddenly feel like the ocean is teeming with sharks.

Even though intellectually I know the ocean is huge

and shark attacks are incredibly rare,

I just dip my toe in the water

and I swear I can hear the theme music.

>> Precisely.

If you go for a swim after watching Jaws, every shadow,

every piece of seaweed looks like a fin.

Why?

Because the image of the shark is available.

It's right there on the surface of your mind.

It's highly accessible.

>> It's fresh.

>> It's fresh.

But statistically, >> you are probably safer in

that water than you were in your kitchen making a piece of toast.

The actual statistical risk hasn't changed at all.

But your perception of the risk has just skyrocketed

because that image is

so fresh and so powerful.

>> I love that the sources bring up the black swan effect here.

This idea that we fixate on these massive, rare, completely unpredictable events, >> right?

And plane crashes are the classic textbook example of this.

When a plane crashes, what happens?

It is immediate global news.

>> It's everywhere.

>> It is on every single screen in the airport.

It's on your phone.

You see the wreckage.

You might hear the black box recording.

You see the interviews with the weeping families.

It is incredibly visceral.

It becomes highly available to your memory.

>> It sticks with you.

You can't unsee it.

It creates this little horror movie in your head that you can play back.

>> Exactly.

But what about the mundane risks?

You know, heart disease from a poor diet

or car accidents from texting

and driving.

They don't make the headlines in the same way.

You don't see a breaking news banner on CNN that says,

"Man in Ohio eats too much cholesterol >> or woman merges poorly on the I95,

>> right?

Breaking news.

Someone forgot to check their blind spot."

>> It's just not gripping television.

>> It's not.

It's background noise.

It's static.

The source material makes a really sharp comparison here between flying and driving.

We all know intellectually, if we stop and do the math,

that driving to the airport is statistically far,

far more dangerous than the flight itself.

>> Oh, it's not even close.

>> The miles traveled versus fatality rate isn't even in the same ballpark.

Flying is remarkably safe.

>> Absolutely.

The stats on car accidents are frankly terrifying

when you compare them to aviation safety.

But think about the behavior.

Nobody grips the steering wheel of their Honda Civic with white knuckles thinking,

"This is it.

This is the end."

>> Not at all.

>> We drive with our knees while we're eating a burrito.

We're changing the radio station.

We're totally relaxed inside a death machine.

>> A death machine.

Right.

>> But the second we hit a little bit of turbulence at 30,000 ft.

We're gripping the armrest

and writing our last will

and testament on a cocktail napkin.

>> Exactly.

And why?

Because a car accident is boring to the brain's narrative center.

It's common.

It's not a story in the same way a plane crash is a story.

So the big takeaway here is that our brains prioritize story over statistics.

>> Wow.

>> We ignore the daily high probability risks

because they just aren't dramatic enough to stick in our memory.

We are wired for drama, not for data.

We fear the spectacle, not the statistic.

>> That is just wild.

We are essentially hardwired to be bad at math

because we prefer a good movie plot.

>> That's a great way to put it.

>> We are directing our own internal thriller movies instead of just, you know,

looking at the spreadsheet.

>> In a sense, yes, we are narrative creatures.

We make sense of the world through stories

and stories need villains

and explosions and suspense.

Probability tables don't have villains.

>> That's true.

>> And this leads us directly into the second

and I would argue perhaps even more dangerous glitch that's mentioned in the sources.

This one is a little bit more complex.

It's called the base rate fallacy.

>> Now, the sources flag this

as a pretty highle concepts C2 level

if we're talking language proficiency,

>> but conceptually it's huge.

It feels like something that explains so much bad decision-m in like business,

in medicine, even in things like dating.

>> Oh, it is absolutely fundamental.

The base rate fallacy is what happens

when we ignore the general prevalence of something

which we call the base rate in favor of specific new information.

>> Okay?

So, we get distracted.

>> We get blinded by the shiny new data point

and we completely forget the context

that it lives in.

It's like we zoom in

so close on one pixel

that we forget what the entire picture is.

>> The source material uses this medical example to explain it.

And honestly, when I first read it,

I had to stop and do the math myself because it is so counterintuitive.

My brain just wanted to reject it.

I kept thinking, "No, that can't be right."

>> It trips everyone up.

Seriously, there are studies that show when you present this exact scenario to physicians,

a shocking number of them get the probability wrong.

They overestimate the risk massively.

>> Okay, so let's walk through it for the listener

and I want everyone listening to try

and solve this in their heads

as we go.

We'll keep the numbers nice and round.

So imagine there is a medical test for a disease

and this test is 99% accurate.

>> Okay, that sounds pretty good.

>> It sounds great. 99% accuracy.

>> If I bought a car that worked 99% of the time, I'd be thrilled.

If my internet worked 99% of the time, I'd be overjoyed.

>> Right?

So, you take this test and you test positive.

The doctor walks in, looks at the clipboard, and says, "I'm sorry,

the test is positive."

The natural human reaction, the gut feeling is to panic.

>> Of course, >> you think, well, the test is 99% accurate.

So, there's a 99% chance I have this disease.

I mean, that feels perfectly logical.

>> That is the trap.

That is the base rate fallacy in action.

You are looking at the specific information

which is the test result

and the specific accuracy the 99%

but you are ignoring the context.

You're ignoring the overall population.

>> Right.

Because what you are ignoring is the base rate

which is just how common is this disease in the general population.

>> Exactly.

>> So the source says imagine the disease is incredibly rare like only one

in 1,000 people actually have it.

>> Okay.

So let's do the math.

Listeners stay with us here.

Visualize a giant auditorium with 1,000 people in it.

Based on that base rate, one in 1,000.

Only one single person in that entire room actually has the disease.

Just one.

>> Okay.

One sick person and 999 healthy people.

Everyone is just standing there.

>> Now, we give everyone in the room this 99% accurate test.

The one sick person takes the test.

Since the test is 99% accurate, it will almost certainly catch him.

He tests positive.

So, that is one positive result.

Okay, so we have one true positive.

Got it.

>> But what about the 999 healthy people?

They all take the test, too.

>> Well, the test is 99% accurate,

which also means it has a 1% error rate.

It's going to be wrong 1% of the time.

It's not perfect.

>> Exactly.

So, what is 1% of 999?

>> Uh, it's about 10 9.99.

So, 10 people >> roughly 10, right?

So, 10 perfectly healthy people in

that room are going to get a false positive.

Yeah. the test is going to glitch

and tell them they are sick

when they aren't.

>> Wait, let me pause you right there.

So, in this group of 10,000 people,

we have one person who is actually sick testing positive.

>> Correct?

>> And we have 10 people who are perfectly healthy who are also testing positive.

>> Correct?

So, now imagine the doctor calls out,

will everyone who tested positive please come to the stage?

>> 11 people walk up to the stage.

You're one of them.

You're standing there looking at the other 10 people >>

and I'm freaking out

because I have a positive result in my hand.

>> But look at the group.

There are 11 people on stage with you.

Only one of them is actually sick.

The other 10 are healthy.

>> Oh wow.

So my chances aren't 99%.

If I'm one of those 11 people on stage,

my chance of actually being the sick one is just one in 11.

>> Exactly.

Which is what?

Less than 10%.

It's about 9%.

Even with a test that is 99% accurate,

your actual chance of having the disease is less than 10%.

>> That is insane.

>> And why?

is because the base rate, the extreme rarity of the disease,

completely overpowers the accuracy of the test.

The pool of healthy people is

so massive compared to the tiny pool of sick people

that the tiny 1% margin of error produces 10 times more positive results than

the actual disease does.

>> That completely breaks my brain.

In reality, even with a positive test,

my chance of actually being sick could be very, very low.

But my brain can't see that.

It just sees positive and 99% accuracy and it just freaks out.

It completely ignores the 999 healthy people in the background.

>> And if we connect this to the bigger picture,

think about what this means for professional decision-making.

We do this in business all the time.

We see one bad quarterly report or one really angry customer review.

That's our new information.

>> It's a positive test.

>> It's a positive test and we ignore the base rate,

which might be 10 years of steady growth or thousands of happy clients.

>> That's such a good point.

You get one nasty email from a client.

Maybe they type it in all caps with lots of exclamation points.

And you think, "The whole account is on fire.

Everyone hates us.

Our reputation is ruined."

>> Exactly.

You are ignoring the base rate of the 500 happy normal emails you got

that year.

You are letting this specific override the general.

You are letting the anomaly define the reality.

>> And that leads to knee-jerk reactions.

You might change your entire company strategy based on an outlier.

Precisely.

So the big implication here is that gut feelings are dangerous,

>> especially in high stakes environments.

>> We love to praise intuition in our culture.

We love the story of the CEO who goes with his gut,

but this science suggests that's actually pretty reckless.

>> It's a bad strategy.

>> It really is.

Our intuition is not designed for statistics.

It's designed for survival in a very different world.

A world of immediate physical threats, not complex probabilistic data.

When you're on the savannah,

you don't calculate the base rate of lions in the area.

You just run, >> right?

You don't pull out a spreadsheet.

>> But in a professional setting,

relying on your gut without looking at the base rate is a recipe for

disaster.

>> You're essentially ignoring the entire context of the problem.

>> Okay.

So, we've established that our brains are um actively working against us.

We overindex on scary stories

because the availability heristic

and we suck at understanding probability in context

because of the base rate fallacy.

We are fighting a losing battle against our own biology.

>> That sounds bleak, but yeah.

>> So, knowing that, how do we talk about it?

If we're all just navigating this cognitive fog,

how do we communicate effectively with each other?

>> This is where language becomes a tool for navigation.

It's like a compass in that fog.

We need words that can bridge the gap between I don't know

and here is the plan.

>> You can't just shrug and say who knows.

>> Not in a professional setting.

No.

In business and in life, you have to describe the shape of the uncertainty.

You have to give it a name.

You have to quantify it.

Even just emotional.

>> This brings us to the language of the unknown.

The sources highlight some really interesting idioms of uncertainty.

And what's cool is how the specific choice of idiom signals the emotional weight

of the situation.

>> Exactly.

It's not just conveying facts.

It's conveying anxiety levels.

It's like a color code for danger.

>> It is.

You're telling people how to feel about the uncertainty, >> right?

It's all about tone.

It helps the listener calibrate their own reaction.

>> As a speaker, you are telling the audience how scared

or how relaxed they should be.

>> Okay?

So, let's take the phrase up in the air.

The source uses the example the location of the conference is still up in

the air.

>> Okay?

So, think about the visualization there. something floating like a balloon >> or a feather.

It's untethered.

It's just kind of drifting.

It hasn't landed yet.

>> Right.

It's unresolved.

Sure.

But is it dangerous?

No.

It's neutral.

A balloon floating away isn't a crisis.

It's just floating.

>> Exactly.

If I tell my team, "Hey, the lunch order is up in the air."

Nobody panics.

It just implies a decision hasn't been made yet.

It's a very safe, low stakes way to say, "I don't know."

>> It suggests that the options are probably all fine.

We just haven't picked one, >> right?

It suggests that eventually gravity will take over and it will land somewhere.

It's a temporary state.

>> But now compare that to the phrase touch and go.

>> Oof.

Yeah, that has a different vibe entirely.

>> Completely different.

The source references a doctor speaking after a difficult surgery

and they say it was touch

and go for a

while.

>> Now that hits different touch and go.

It sounds precarious.

It sounds active and unstable.

>> It does.

And I actually looked into the background of this phrase

because the imagery is

so strong.

It comes from aviation, right?

From flying.

>> Yes.

Historically, it refers to a training maneuver where an aircraft touches its wheels down

on the runway and

then immediately takes off again without coming to a full stop.

>> Right.

>> But in the context of danger,

you can imagine a plane trying to land on say an icy runway

or in really high crosswinds.

>> Oh, I can picture it.

The pilot touches the wheels down, feels the instability,

the tires start to lose grip,

and they have to just throttle up and pull away instantly to avoid crashing.

>> It's that split-second decision between safety and total disaster.

>> Terrifying.

It's that moment of near disaster.

It is the moment where the outcome is just oscillating violently between two extremes,

success and failure.

>> That is the energy of the phrase.

Mhm.

>> So when the doctor says it was touchandgo,

they are saying we almost lost the patient.

The outcome was hovering right on the edge between success and total failure.

It wasn't just undecided.

It was actively threatened.

>> So you would never ever say the lunch order is touchandgo unless you

were truly afraid of starving to death.

>> Right.

It was touch and go there for a minute.

We almost ordered the pizza with pineapple on it.

That would just be melodrama.

>> Exactly.

So the phrase implies a real risk of catastrophic failure.

A very negative outcome is hovering right there.

It's a real possibility.

>> Absolutely.

>> So as a communicator, if you are trying to talk about uncertainty,

you have to choose your weapon carefully.

Are things just undecided?

Use up in the air.

Are things dangerous and on the verge of collapse?

Use touch and go.

>> And using the wrong one could really send the wrong message.

You don't want to tell your investors

that the choice of venue for the conference is touchandgo.

No, >> they will think the entire event is about to be cancelled

or that you're completely incompetent.

And conversely, you don't want to tell a family member

that a loved one's surgery is up in the air

if the patient is actually in critical condition.

>> That would sound so casual, almost dismissive.

It's insulting, >> terribly.

So, precision matters.

You are actively managing the emotional state of the room.

You are setting the thermostat for the anxiety in the room.

Which brings us to the part of this deep dive

that I think everyone really needs to hear.

We've talked about the brain.

We've talked about idioms.

Now, let's talk about your career.

>> Yes.

Section three, professional survival, or as I like to call it,

>> how to tell the boss bad news without getting fired.

>> The don't shoot the messenger scenario.

It is the classic corporate nightmare.

We have all been there.

You spot a risk.

You look at the spreadsheet or the project timeline and you realize, oh no,

>> that sinking feeling.

>> You know a project is going to fail

or you know you're going to miss a deadline,

but you are afraid that if you speak up,

you'll be seen as negative or incompetent or you'll just cause a huge panic.

>> It's a paralyzing position to be in.

You feel like you're holding a live grenade.

If you throw it, it blows up the room.

If you hold on to it, it blows up in your hand.

>> And so often people just stay quiet.

They hope for a miracle.

They think, "Oh, maybe we can make up the time next week."

And then the project crashes and burns.

And then they're in trouble anyway for not warning anyone.

So, how do we thread this needle?

>> The source suggests a pivot, a crucial pivot in language.

>> We need to move away from I think

and I feel and move toward the data says.

>> This goes right back to overcoming that subjectivity we talked about.

If you walk into your boss's office and say,

"I think we're going to lose these customers

or I feel like this timeline is too tight."

That's just an opinion.

It's personal.

It's coming from you.

It's bound to your identity.

>> And if the boss disagrees with you,

which they often will

because they want the project to succeed

or they've already promised the board it will succeed.

Now it's a personal conflict.

It's my gut versus your gut, >> right?

It's me versus you.

And since they're the boss, their gut is probably going to win.

And you just end up looking like a pessimist who isn't a team player.

>> But what if you use the phrasing suggested in the source text?

What if you walk in and say, "Based on historical data,

the probability of attrition is high."

>> Ooh, I like that.

It sounds so scientific.

It's dispassionate.

It's cold, but in a really good way.

>> It completely removes you from the equation.

You aren't the doomsayer anymore.

You are just the interpreter of the data.

You are the weather reporter.

You're pointing at the map and saying, "There is a storm coming."

>> You didn't make the storm.

You don't want the storm.

You're just reporting it because it's your job to read the radar.

>> Yes.

Exactly.

Based on historical data, that is a power phrase.

It instantly adds authority.

It implies you've done the homework.

You aren't just guessing.

You're analyzing.

And it forces the other person to argue with the data, not with you.

If they want to disagree, they have to say your data is wrong,

not you were being negative.

>> It totally shifts the battlefield to the facts.

But sometimes authority isn't enough.

Sometimes you have to deliver news that is just plain bad.

There's no way around it.

The project is late, the money is gone, the client walked.

And for that, the sources recommend something called the sandwich technique.

>> I love a good sandwich.

>> But in this context, we're not talking about lunch.

We are talking about communicative structure.

Yeah.

>> Softening language.

>> Now, I want to be very clear here,

and the expert in the source material was very clear on this, too.

This is not about lying.

It is not about sugar coating or hiding the mess under a rug.

>> Right?

We aren't trying to trick the boss into thinking the building isn't burning down

when it is.

That gets you fired even faster.

That's delusion, not communication.

>> Exactly.

It's about context.

It's about framing the risk between proactive solutions.

The key is do not just drop a bomb of bad news

and walk away.

That leaves the listener feeling completely helpless.

>> That's the key word right there, helplessness.

If you just drop the problem on their desk, the shipment is lost.

>> You are just transferring all the stress onto your boss.

Now they have to fix it. you have essentially walked into their office,

put a giant monkey on their back, and walked out.

>> Okay, so let's role play this a bit.

The bad version is I walk into your office, I slump into the chair,

I look at the floor, and I say, "Hey, uh,

so we're going to miss the deadline.

Sorry about that."

>> That's terrible.

You have just become the problem.

I look at you and all I see is failure.

I see someone who has given up and is now making it my problem.

>> Okay, so let's apply the sandwich technique.

The source gives us a blueprint.

Instead of we will miss the deadline, try this.

While there is a reasonable probability of a slight delay,

we have already implemented contingency plans to mitigate the impact.

>> That is a masterclass in professional communication.

Let's break that down

because there are three distinct moves happening in

that one sentence.

It's like a combination punch in boxing.

>> Okay, so first reasonable probability.

It sounds calm.

It sounds calculated.

It doesn't sound like panic.

It sounds like a weather forecast, >> right?

Then the bad news is sandwiched in the middle, a slight delay.

You admit it.

You own it.

You don't hide it.

You put it right there on the table.

>> But then immediately before they can even start to panic,

you hit them with the solution.

We have already implemented contingency plans.

>> And that magic word in there, mitigate.

>> Yes, mitigate.

>> Mitigate is essential riskmanagement vocabulary.

It comes from a Latin root mitigar which means to soften or alleviate.

It doesn't mean fix perfectly.

It doesn't mean undo.

It just means to make less severe.

>> That's such a crucial distinction.

Sometimes you can't fix it.

The delay is happening.

You can't turn back time.

But you can mitigate the damage.

You can communicate to the client early.

You can ship a partial product.

You can offer a discount for the next project.

>> Exactly.

Using the word mitigate shows you understand the reality of the damage

and you're actively managing it.

Yeah, you aren't in denial.

You are saying, "I know this hurts and I am applying a bandage."

>> And the other key phrase there, contingency plans.

That phrase just screams competence.

It says, "I didn't just panic when I saw this coming.

I thought about this ahead of time.

I have a plan B."

>> It transforms you from a victim of circumstance into a proactive leader.

You weren't saying oops.

You're saying I see the risk and I am handling it.

The boss doesn't have to solve it for you.

You've already started solving it.

You are bringing them a solution, not just a problem.

>> That is so powerful.

It really, really changes the entire dynamic of the conversation.

Instead of being the bearer of bad news,

you become the manager of bad situations.

>> Exactly.

But sometimes, even with the best plans, even with the best mitigation strategies,

things still go wrong.

And you need to protect yourself before the work even starts.

You need to negotiate the terms of engagement.

You have to build a safety net into the agreement.

>> This is section four.

Protecting yourself in any project, in any agreement, you need a buffer.

You need to acknowledge upfront

that the world is chaotic

and that you are not a wizard.

>> And the source uses a great, really informal phrase for this.

It's deceptively simple.

Wiggle room.

>> Yes, wiggle room is such a tactile phrase, isn't it?

It makes me think of being stuck in a tight pair of jeans.

You just need a little room to move.

You need to be able to breathe. >> laughs.

>> Ideally, your project timeline shouldn't feel like a pair of tight jeans.

But yes, that's the idea.

>> You'd say something like,

"We built in some wiggle room in case of unforeseen delays."

>> And that implies flexibility.

If you commit to a super tight deadline with zero margin for error,

you say, "I will deliver this at 500 p.m. on Friday."

Period.

Right?

>> You are setting yourself up for failure.

If your internet goes down for 10 minutes, you've failed.

If you get a headache, you've failed.

>> Right?

You've removed all the slack from the system.

It's too brittle.

It's designed to break.

>> Regal room is the professional way of saying,

"I need some space to breathe if things go wrong."

It manages expectations from the very beginning.

It tells the other person, I am not a robot.

I need a margin for error.

>> Mhm.

>> And any experienced manager knows that things will take longer than expected.

That's just reality.

>> And things always go wrong.

Remember the glitch in the matrix?

We can't control everything.

The server will crash.

The supplier will be late.

You will get the flu.

The coffee machine will break.

And company morale will plummet.

>> Which is why we also need to talk about conditional outcomes.

This is for when the future depends on outside factors,

things that are totally 100% out of your hands,

things you have zero influence over.

>> This is so crucial for avoiding blame later on.

You have to draw a circle around what you control and what you don't.

And the phrases here are contingent upon and hinges on.

>> Hinges on is a great visual.

It's like a door.

The entire success of the project swings on this one single hinge.

If the hinge breaks, the door falls off.

It makes the dependency very physical and very clear.

>> And the example in the source is a good one.

The success of the launch hinges on the approval of the new budget.

>> So think about what that sentence does both legally and psychologically.

It draws a line in the sand

and says if I get the budget I can succeed.

If I don't get the budget then any failure is not my fault.

>> It shifts the responsibility squarely onto that external factor.

It's not me failing.

It's the budget that failed me.

>> Exactly.

It decouples your performance from the outcome.

You are saying I am a good driver

but I can't drive this car

if you don't give me any gas.

The budget is the gas.

If you don't use this kind of phrase,

people will assume you can somehow drive without gas.

>> Contingent upon does the same thing, just a bit more formally.