Are You The Fat Man at the Counter, The Chocolate Lab, or the Rugged Individualist?
Three ways to approach becoming your best self.
Periodically, I visit the convenience store next to my office to grab a seltzer water and a snack. It’s a short walk and allows me to get away from my desk, grab some fresh air, and reset.
Inevitably, there in front of me stands a morbidly obese man buying pizza slices, a 62-ounce soda, and some candy. After the holidays, the store rolled up a cart loaded with extra holiday-themed candies, offering them at a discount to move them. I watched a guy grab all that he could, not willing to miss out on the deal.
It saddens me how many of us live with zero self-awareness.
I want to grab this guy by the shoulder and ask him if he knows he’s slowly killing himself.
But it’s not my place, and not my battle to fight, so I stay quiet and await my turn to pay.
Yet, inside, it fills me with regret. I want all of us to take the steps necessary to give ourselves a fighting chance at joy.
That man, and the 100+ extra pounds he carries, may still receive a glimmer of that joy. I hope he does. But more likely than not, he’s suffering from a never-ending onslaught of self-loathing, remorse, and regret.
If you deliberately plan on being less than you are capable of being, than I warn you that you’ll be unhappy the rest of your life. — Abraham Maslow
From my observations, I believe and offer that we have three levels of self-awareness, or three ways of being. Three life personas from which we can choose to operate.
The Fat Man at the Counter
The first level is the Fat Man at the Counter. This motherfucker has just given up. He’s not even trying to improve. Instead, he lives in a place of immediate gratification living from moment to moment to moment.
He may be crushing the 64-ounce Extra Huge Big Gulp, a family-sized bag of M&Ms, and the only-found-in-a-convenience-store-rotisserie-extra-long-hot-dog. He may be bellied-up to the bar at 11:30 AM when everyone else is there to grab lunch.
Or maybe we never see him because his fat ass is stuck in the recliner and he’s binging on every single sitcom that aired last night courtesy of his overloaded DVR.
He doesn’t walk. He doesn’t contribute. He doesn’t earn. He doesn’t create. He doesn’t give a fuck about anyone other than himself. He hasn’t scaled the first mountain let alone given one thought to what may lie beyond it.
Sounds harsh? Probably. But this guy isn’t about to log onto a reading app to read this or any other blog. He’s not interested in learning, let alone taking a deep, long look in the mirror.
I’m sure this guy has some redeeming qualities. He doesn’t do the work, however, to make them readily apparent to the rest of the world.
Don’t be this guy.
2. The Chocolate Lab
I call this one the Chocolate Lab, but maybe today it would better resonate if it were instead called the Golden Doodle.
I’ve had both a Chocolate Lab and a Golden Doodle, and both were full of admirable qualities. They were loving, loyal, energetic, funny, and an absolute joy to be around.
My Chocolate Lab never had a bad day. She lived in harmony and just loved to love.
But she was dopey as fuck. I used to say that every day she would wake and say to herself “I wonder if the rules still apply to me today.”
Most of us men fall in this persona category. We just sort of accept that we are what we are.
We enjoy life as it is. For the most part, we make an effort to eat good food and generally take good care of ourselves. We’re enjoyable to be around, and have a good social network around us. We’re loyal and loving and make a pretty good partner and are generally wonderful dads.
We’re hard workers. We earn a good wage and we show up and do what we are supposed to do. We’re dependable and we’re useful. And generally, we are appreciated, respected, and loved by everyone we meet.
We have a sunny disposition, and most days you can find us with our tails wagging.
Most of us in this persona are really good in one realm of living. Maybe it’s our physique, our financial skills, our spiritual connection, or our ability to serve others.
Life is pretty good for the Chocolate Lab.
Until a thunderstorm rolls in. Then, they hide under the bed.
As a largely one-dimensional man, they may not yet have the resiliency to meet every challenge head-on. If that one area of strength falters, things can go from good to bad very quickly.
I worry about my Chocolate Lab buddies. They have so much to give, so much potential. Yet, they continue to dance on the edge of a cliff, never quite fully escaping to safety from the precipice of scarcity.
I fear time will run out for them because they stop just short of the level of ownership needed to ensure they live both a joyful and impactful life.
I fear they will hide under the bed when seemingly insurmountable obstacles arise,
Somewhere along the way, they stopped developing the required virtues of wisdom, discipline, love, and courage.
They are wonderful humans, but you always wonder if there’s a higher calling they never quite tap into.
3. The Rugged Individualist
The other day, I had lunch with my buddy, Adam, and this was the term he used to describe the essence of certain types of people.
After reflecting on his comments, I find this term to be agreeable.
The Rugged Individualist, at his most basic core, takes ownership of all that happens in his life. He understands that life happens for us, not to us, and lives life knowing that obstacles make you stronger.
The Rugged Individualist lives with an intrinsic motivation focused on becoming a better person, deepening his relationships, and contributing to his family and community.
He likely has lofty goals, but those goals are merely guideposts as he has a love for the process of pursuing them knowing that if they are achieved, it merely becomes a checkpoint in pursuit of yet another goal. The outcome is never the outcome, but merely a reflection of the work that has been completed so far. He has come to understand that growth is his ultimate purpose.
If you are irritated by every rub, how will you be polished? — Rumi
He understands that no matter how well or poorly yesterday may have gone, there is still a gap between who he is capable of being and who he is being. He finds joy in working diligently, consistently, and ruthlessly to close that gap. Not for anyone else, but because he has capacity. He knows that today is the only thing for which he can control, and all his days create his tomorrows.
Abraham Maslow spoke about that capacity in Toward a Psychology of Being (which I have not yet read, but am pulling from another book called Aréte, by Brian Johnson). He says:
The muscular person likes to use his muscles, indeed, has to use them in order to self-actualize, and to achieve the subjective feeling of harmonious, uninhibited, satisfying functioning which is so important an aspect of psychological health. People with intelligence must use their intelligence, people with eyes must use their eyes, people with the capacity to love have the impulse to love and the need to love in order to feel healthy. Capacities clamor to be used, and cease their clamor only when they are used sufficiently.
The Rugged Individualist finds completion in the pursuit, which is never-ending.
Author and speaker Ed Mylett often talks about his version of Heaven. He says that when he arrives at the pearly gates he expects to be greeted there by the best version of himself, and therefore his goal while here on earth is to ensure he’s done everything he can to make sure the man who approaches the pearly gates is the same man standing there to greet him.
That’s the essence of the Rugged Individualist.
He exists to close that gap.
The Good News
The good news is that it’s never too late to flip your switch. It’s never too late to take ownership of your life and shift towards ownership.
The difference between The Fat Man at the Counter and the Rugged Individualist is one, simple decision.
The decision to close the gap.
Get started.
TODAY.