A piggy bank is an example of a "commitment device" -- a way to lock yourself into an option you might otherwise dodge, like saving money, because you think it'll be good for you. One graduating Stanford business-school student used a commitment device to lock down his own career choice. As reported by Jim Collins in a Harvard Business Reviewarticle, the student wanted to start a company, but first he needed to pay down some debt. So he took a job at a big company, promising himself that he'd exit after five years and live his entrepreneurial dream. But he also worried about being seduced by the benefits-and-bagels comfort of corporate America. So he wrote a resignation letter, dated for five years into the future, and distributed signed copies to several people he trusted. His instructions: If I don't resign in five years, put this letter in the mail and do it for me.
In the gym, commitment devices are most often used by locking in the client to a certain set of behaviors or goals:
- If I don't lose 30 pounds by June 1, I will donate $1,000 to the Republican party (or whichever party you dislike the most).
- I will do 10 minutes of stretching every day for the next 30 days. If I fail, I will do something humiliating (like wear a funny outfit and do a workout in public).
- One of my favorites, from Dan John, I believe. The Aldo diet: I will lose/gain 20 pounds in six months. If I fail, I will eat a can of dog food. Highly motivating!
Hence their idea for gyms:
For instance, exercising is a should, so what if your gym offered to receive your magazine subscriptions? That way, to read the new Vanity Fair (a want), you'd have to drop by the gym. ... It's a compelling idea: Might the future of business lie in encouraging shoulds rather than indulging wants? Could corporations help us bring out our better selves?
Also, here's an idea applicable to the business/administration side of things:
Norm Brodsky, an entrepreneur and a writer for Inc. magazine, runs a document-storage-and-retrieval business. He committed to taking four weeks of vacation a year, forcing himself to create systems that would allow his operation to run smoothly without him. He was successful, and since then, he has announced an even tougher commitment device: Now he'll take four months of vacation per year. This would appear to commit him to becoming French.
I can really see myself failing to plan for time off and making myself an indispensable part of the gym machinery, so I find very appealing the idea of forcing myself to design systems that run well in my absence.
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