Hard work is not the key to success

I live on a golf course in Hilton Head, in a wealthy gated community. So I’m surrounded by lots of extremely intelligent people who worked extremely hard at something for an extremely long time, so they could make enough money to retire when they’re 60 and play golf on private golf courses for the rest of their lives. Many have something else in common, as well: They tend to have adult children who are very intelligent like their parents, with lots of potential, but they tend to be underachievers. Which tends to bother their hard-working parents.

I was at a community party this weekend, sitting there drinking bourbon (surprise!), minding my own business, when this topic of conversation came up. The mothers sitting at our table started complaining about their kids, who all seemed to lack drive and focus. One said that her daughter didn’t like her job, so she quit. She didn’t have anything else lined up – she just quit. So now she’s living at home at the age of 26, with her extremely expensive elite college diploma on the wall, eating their food and watching their TV. Mom and Dad are frustrated. The other Moms all had similar stories, each sounding more outlandish than the first to my blissfully sheltered ears.

The Moms all agreed that they had sheltered their kids too much, and left them unprepared for the difficulties of real life. One of the Moms pointed at me and said something like, “His kids are doing great. His wife told me how hard he worked those girls, and now they know how to work.” I responded that I didn’t think that was right. She asked what I meant.

In response, I asked her, “Your kids didn’t work hard?”

She said they did. They were in sports, marching band, honors classes, volunteer activities, and Lord knows what else.

So I asked, “So if they worked hard as kids, why do you think they don’t know how to work as adults?”

An exasperated Mom asked, “Why don’t you enlighten us?”

I meekly responded, “I don’t know, of course. But I’ll give you my theory. I’ll let you decide if it’s valid.

My kids worked at all those things too, of course. Although probably not as much as your kids. We avoided honors classes, for example – it seemed like a lot of busy work, and not much real advanced study. They didn’t really do much volunteer stuff or band, either. They worked hard at sports because they were good at it, but their time spent on activities was probably a lot less than your kids.

But we lived in a log cabin in the woods. We used a wood furnace for heat. We burned six cords of wood a year – that’s A LOT of wood – every year. So the girls and I spent a lot of time cutting, hauling, and stacking firewood. Not to build character or to learn work habits – we did it to stay warm in the upcoming winter. We did electrical and plumbing repairs. We caulked the log joints. We fixed the roof. We plowed snow. We worked all the time, on things that mattered.

I never said so, but it was clear that we were doing work that needed to be done. It was important. It wasn’t busy work to build character. When a 10-year-old has to make a paper mâché volcano for earth science class, they know it’s just busy work, and it doesn’t really matter. But when that kid is carrying firewood that will keep her family warm in the winter, she knows that matters.

My girls learned to associate hard work with a better life.

Kids that are constantly faced with busy work to build character will learn to associate hard work with annoyance – hard work is something to be avoided when possible. When your kids spend their time making paper mâché volcanoes while they watch hired hands mow the lawn, I think that’s sending the wrong message. That volcano will not improve anyone’s life. So why work at it? Hard work is to be avoided.

My kids continue to look for ways to work hard to improve their lives. And you’re right, they’ve been extremely successful.

It seems like a small difference, but I think it’s huge.

At least, that’s my perspective. Who knows, right?”

All the Moms looked at each other for a few seconds until one of them asked, “Ok, so how do you do that in a wealthy suburb?”

I said, “I don’t know, which is why I built that log cabin in the woods. I was terrified of raising kids who were soft. Now that our kids are grown, my wife and I live on a golf course. It’s nice here. But I’m so thankful that we didn’t raise our kids here.”

I got the sense that I had overstayed my welcome, so I wandered off to find my wife, and see if she was ready to head home. I got pulled into another group, and didn't find my wife for another hour or so.

Later, on the way home in the car, my wife pointedly asked, “WHAT did you say to all my friends?”

I looked uncertain and said, “Um, about what?”

“Oh, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about – what did you say?”

I said, “Well, they asked why our kids did so well, and I just said that I thought it was because they learned to associate hard work with a better life. Not because they learned to work hard. And now we have happy, successful kids. Or something like that. I don’t know. I was just talking. I’m sorry if I…”

She interrupted me and said, “They ALL agreed with you. That’s all I heard about the rest of the night. They’re so unimpressed with their kids, and even more unimpressed with their kids’ friends. These are very successful people who expect a lot from their kids, and they’re frustrated. Whatever you said, they thought it was awesome!”

Me: “Oh that! Right! Well, I’m glad it was well received.” As I thought to myself, “Whew…”

As I was lying in bed not sleeping that night, I wondered what comes next. When a bunch of people who have been trained that hard work is to be avoided – when those people raise kids – what happens? What kind of kids do THEY raise? Yikes.

I was relieved to find that, for once, my actions at a party didn’t get me in trouble. But I think that lots of parents out there are just starting to realize that their actions – actions taken with only the very best of intentions – putting their kids in the best schools in the best neighborhoods – that perhaps those actions were unhelpful. Or worse.

And for once, the Moms drank more than I did.

I can’t blame them. Some actions are difficult to undo.