Lessons from a Self-Management Guru
reviewing the works of Clayton Christensen
Theories in Practice
I was first introduced to the works of the late Clay Christensen in my final year of undergrad. The text was an HBR article (later turned into a book) titled “How Will You Measure Your Life?” It sounded like the pretentiously cringe corporate platitudes you find on LinkedIn. Back then, I didn’t have much else to do and didn’t care if I knowingly stuffed my brain with junk. So, I gave it a read.
Christensen opens by recounting his experience consulting for Andy Grove, legendary CEO of Intel. Grove wanted to know what Christensen’s research meant for Intel. Instead of a direct answer, Christensen told a story: how smaller steel mills first attacked the market for rebars—at the lowest end of steel manufacturing—and slowly worked their way up to higher-quality tiers. Eventually, the large, incumbent mills were overrun and kicked out of the market by these scrappier entrants. Grove understood the implication for Intel and went on to develop the strategy to protect the low-end market.
Christensen explained his method clearly: “When people ask what I think they should do, I rarely answer their question directly. Instead, I run the question aloud through one of my models.”
Rather than offering a fleeting opinion, he provided a rigorous way to think. Teaching a man to fish is always better than giving him the fish. This was how Christensen operated, reasoning by analogy and finding the right theory to anticipate a course of action.
But he did something more. At the end of every semester, Christensen challenged his MBA students to turn these analytical tools onto their own lives by asking three questions:
How can I be sure that I’ll be happy in my career?
How can I be sure my relationships become an enduring source of happiness?
How can I be sure I’ll stay out of jail?
We rarely take the time to think about our lives with this rigor. The bait is to delay it for another day. This is a failure mode. The demands on our time keeps growing, yet the supply remains fixed at twenty-four hours a day. If we cannot commit to self-reflection while the stakes are low, it is unlikely to happen at all.
Christensen saw that management, if practiced right, can be the noblest of professions. No other job offers the same responsibility for helping others to learn and grow. In his words, “building people up is far more rewarding and enriching than closing lucrative deals.”
Perhaps like Andy Grove, I had an epiphany.
If management is an ennobling occupation, then the most important responsibility is the management of one’s self.
There’s three themes I‘ve found across Clay Christensen’s work that resonate the most:
The Allure of Immediate Gratification.
Actions > Words.
Holding on to our principles 100% of the time.
1. The Allure of Immediate Gratification
Human nature is biased toward short-term gains. Christensen noted that when people have extra time or resources, they instinctively allocate them to the most visible things. An investment banker or a consultant might choose to spend an extra hour at the office rather than with their family.
Why?
Because work offers KPIs, ROIs, and revenue. These are measurable, trackable, and offer immediate feedback.
Modern society’s optimised for the visible. Organisations steer investments toward tangible returns: commissions are paid for hitting sales targets, and professionals are billed by the hour. These provide a visible measure of results that tells us we are moving forward.
But this short-term view is often the root of long-term disaster. Christensen explained that companies often fail to invest in the future because the immediate likelihood of success is not high. They delay the decision, telling themselves that tomorrow is a problem for tomorrow. Come tomorrow, it will be tomorrow’s problem still. When the need arises, often desperately, they realise they should have invested when the going was good.
In the same way, time spent on our relationships requires a longer horizon. The cause and effect are murky, any meaningful change may take decades to emerge. Tragically, we don’t see the consequences of our neglect immediately. We take our relationships with family and friends for granted. Like an endowment fund, we assume that “capital” is always there. What happens is that we find that account gets shuttered for a lack of activity.
2. Actions > Words
Companies publish catchy soundbites as mission statements. Governments hold press conferences to launch green initiatives. We all make plans and promises in service of an idealised outcome.
But outcomes are not what we say we intend to do, it is what we actually do. Outcomes are the sum of every micro-decision and action made.
I can say I want to get healthy, and make a change in my career. But I’m still eating junk and slogging away at the same sedentary job five years later. Corporations claim to value employee welfare, and decide to hold a monthly "pizza night". Yet they end up wondering why they are repeating cycles of turnovers.
This follows from the short-term bias, plus the tendency to say things that are in-vogue, trendy and sexy. Like going green or improving the integrity and the ethical standards of the value chain. In reality, the problem is often much harder, and much more difficult in execution.
3. Holding on to our principles 100% of the time
If outcomes are the sum of our choices, we need a rule—a principle—to keep us from drifting when things get hard.
Often, people set out with the most earnest of intent. Making solemn vows and legally binding promises, but end up implementing strategies they did not intend to pursue. People end up divorced with kids that hate them. Businesses get shuttered. Companies go bust. Institutions collapse.
Life is an unending series of extenuating circumstances. In those moments, letting things slide "just this once" feels like flexibility. We rationalise it as a fair compromise to solve a dire problem. But rationalising that first time makes it easier to rationalise the next time. And the time after next. What started as a stop-gap measure becomes a habit, a default choice, and we find ourselves sliding down a slippery slope.
Christensen’s solution was to hold to your principles 100% of the time, rather than 98% of the time. Christensen’s own non-negotiables, such as his refusal to work on Sundays, were rooted in his faith. To a secular world, this looks like rigidity. To Christensen, it was a strategy. A choice.
It is easier to hold to the principles 100% of the time than it is 98% of the time.
He didn't have to negotiate with his conscience every weekend; the decision was already made.
Principles are what separates the serious people from the pretenders. They prioritise ruthlessly. They uphold standards, and abide by principles. They keep things that matter to them upfront and center, in full focus, at all times. Even if it costs them social approval, their career, and material gain.
Who is more serious?
A professor who tells you that if you work hard you get an A. But you end up finding out you’re graded on a curve.
A professor who tells you that he’ll write and plead his case to the committee why a non-trivial % of students get high grades.
In work:
The manager who says that if you show up, deliver results, and don’t screw up, you’ll get your just rewards. But end up saying the decision to promote you is left to the bosses upstairs.
The manager who will sit down with you, and double check your work. Who spends an extra hour to write in a letter of recommendation, and make your case to the board.
By holding steadfast to our principles, we are clear on what the non-negotiables are. It does not mean that we are rigid. It actually leaves room to be flexible and in a deliberate manner. We don’t end up wasting time discussing every vague detail. With our principles as guardrails and signposts, there is a clear focus on the path to take.
How will I measure my life?
It is a tough question, just downstream of “what is the meaning of life?”
It can’t be just about how much money I can make, or how fast I can get to the top of the corporate pyramid. It has to be things people regret. The things people come to realise too late. Things that only come to mind on their deathbed. Things that help people sleep easier.
“How many birthdays and anniversaries did I miss?”
“Was I there for my family?”
“Did I do right by my friends?”
I’ll work backwards from there, and try answering them in the present.