by Jia Jiang
COLLABORATE, DON’T CONTEND
100 DAYS OF REJECTION: INVENT MY OWN ICE CREAM FLAVOR
When I was a kid in China, I had a lot of big dreams. One of them was to dig a hole through the earth from China to America. At age six, I actually started digging that hole on the side of the street I grew up on. But after two days—and about three feet of soil—someone told my mom. That was the end of my adventure, and my trip to America was delayed by another decade.
Another childhood dream of mine was to invent my own flavor of ice cream—but I’d never tried to turn this dream into a reality. Now that I was deep into my rejection journey and far savvier about how to maneuver through a no to land somewhere interesting, it felt like the right time to try.
After giving my flavor ideas some thought, I headed to Amy’s Ice Cream, a local landmark shop famous for its great ice cream—as well as for the flashy dancelike moves that its clerks do while preparing ice cream and toppings for customers. Thankfully, this time my mom wasn’t there to stop me.
After walking into the shop, I asked the store clerk to make me ice cream with a flavor I dubbed “Thai Torture.” I described the flavor as a combination of dried pepper, jalapeño, and ghost chili—the spiciest ingredients I could imagine. I once ordered food at a Thai restaurant with a spicy rating of 51 out of 50. But the next two days were nothing but internal torture. Thai Torture was a flavor I was sure nobody would ever want—and one that no ice cream clerk would ever make for me.
Not surprisingly, the clerk said no and directed my attention toward the store’s ice cream flavor menu. But instead of walking away—or settling for vanilla—I started asking more questions. When I asked if they had any spicy flavors, the clerk told me that they actually sold a few during the summer (this was wintertime), including a couple of jalapeño flavors and another called “chocolate wasabi.” He went into the freezer to search for them but couldn’t find any. But he said that if I brought in my own flavoring, he would gladly customize the ice cream for me.
In the end, the clerk gave me some samples of Amy’s wacky bacon-and-mint-flavored ice cream, and I loved it. It surely tasted better than Thai Torture would have.
—
Looking back, the clerk had literally come out from behind the counter and over to my side so that we could share a common view of the situation. It wasn’t a you-vs.-me zero-sum game, but an us-vs.-them problem-solving game. Solving the problem was a win for both of us. Plus, he had given me an opening to create my own flavor if I met him halfway by bringing in my own ingredients.
When I feared rejection, it felt natural to view the people who hold the power to grant me a yes or a no as adversaries. But after I shifted that thinking and started viewing them as collaborators, I suddenly found myself in whole new territory. I didn’t approach the Amy’s Ice Cream clerk with any negative feelings, and that even-keeled mental approach enabled me to maintain positivity and respect. By asking him questions about the problem at hand, I turned him into a collaborator, which prompted him to put on his customer service hat and help me toward my goals. And—as I’d already experienced again and again—the end results were better than what I asked for.
On the flip side, the opposite of collaboration—argument—is a magnet for rejection. And nothing drove this point home for me more than the experience I had with a documentary film crew that drove from Los Angeles to Austin to make a short piece about my rejection journey. They were particularly intrigued by how I managed to get so many yeses with such crazy requests. At the time, I was trying to understand this myself, so I agreed to take them with me on a rejection excursion.
Austin, whose official nickname is “Live Music Capital of the World,” is filled with independent music studios. The employees of these studios are usually part-time musicians themselves. The idea was to show up at one of these studios and ask one of its employees to perform his or her favorite music piece for us.
Curious to see what would happen if someone else made the request, we had Ethan, one of the documentary team’s crew members, try it out. He approached the employee manning the front desk and asked him if he could show us the studio and perform some music. The guy behind the desk said no. He told us he was working and looked a little annoyed.
Ethan started arguing, telling the employee that it was his job to accommodate potential customers’ requests. The employee in turn argued that the studio had a policy against employees or customers using its instruments without permission or pay. The two of them went back and forth, their voices rising. Our “rejection request” was quickly degenerating into a verbal fight about rules and responsibilities.
I knew from experience that this would not end well, so I stepped in. “We know it’s an unusual request and would be perfectly fine if you say no,” I said. “But we would really appreciate it if you say yes. We simply want to hear you play some drums for us in this studio.”
The employee looked at me, then looked toward the ceiling, and then started nodding his head. “OK,” he said. And just like that, he led us into the studio’s best drum room and started playing his favorite beat.
The documentary crew’s jaws dropped. Not only were they able to film a rejection attempt and drum performance, but they saw a rejection turned into acceptance in front of their eyes. After we thanked the employee and left the studio, the crew asked me what type of voodoo spell I’d put on that guy to have him say yes to me just a few seconds after he had said no to Ethan.
Given all that I’d learned, it actually made sense. Arguing with a person who turns you down is probably the least effective way to change the individual’s response. In fact, it’s almost a sure way to get a rejection, because arguing always turns potential collaborators into enemies. I’d approached the music studio employee as a collaborator, and that switch in approach had changed his mind. By making it clear that he had the freedom to say no, I got to the yes we were looking for.
SWITCH UP, DON’T GIVE UP
To quit or not to quit? That’s a question that lingers in the mind of almost everyone who has failed at something. On one side, self-help gurus and motivational speakers preach Winston Churchill’s quote “Never give in, never give in, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in” or Vince Lombardi’s quote “Winners never quit and quitters never win.” On the other side, modern entrepreneurs preach quick pivoting on unattainable ideas. Their motto is “fail fast, fail often.” Bestselling authors and economists Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner even dedicated an entire chapter to the “Upside of Quitting” in their book Think Like a Freak.
When it comes to rejection, there is also merit for both arguments. In my 100 Days of Rejection, sometimes no matter what approaches or tactics I tried, a no remained a no. In these cases, continuing to make the same request over and over again under the same conditions, with the same person, in the hope that my persistence would somehow change the outcome almost always proved counterproductive and impractical.
But instead of quitting, I found that stepping back and trying again under different circumstances could yield a different result. I call it “switch up.” In my efforts to find a one-day job, it took three different companies to get to yes. When I tried to plant flowers in someone’s yard, the second person, Lauren, gave me the green light. Approaching a different person, rather than continuously trying to convince the same person again and again, regardless of his needs and preferences, was much more productive.
Another way to “switch up” is to change environments.
—
Stephon Marbury has been a big-time sports star ever since he was little. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he quickly earned the nickname “Starbury” due to his basketball talent and was widely viewed as the next great NBA point guard. In high school, he received the “Mr. New York Basketball” award and was named a McDonald’s All-American—two very prestigious titles. He was also featured in a book and on the cover of a video game. After one year at Georgia Tech, he was
picked fourth overall in the 1996 NBA Draft. In the NBA, he was selected as an All-Star in 2001 and 2003 and led his team to the playoffs five different times.
Marbury’s résumé looked to be that of a great basketball star. But in reality, his story was one of controversy and rejection, at least in the NBA. As soon he entered the professional league, people started to notice his flashy me-first playing style and his frequent run-ins with coaches, and he quickly developed a reputation for being selfish. He was traded to four different teams before landing with the New York Knicks—a team he’d dreamed of playing for while growing up. Quickly, he came to blows with two different head coaches and was labeled “toxic,” a “coach-killer,” a “bonehead,” and a “loser.” He was regularly suspended and frequently booed by fans.
Despite putting up decent numbers, Marbury’s reputation forced the New York Knicks to cut him. After spending a forgettable year with the Boston Celtics, he was essentially forced out of the league. Despite his immense talent, he was rejected by both the NBA and its fans after a tumultuous five-team, thirteen-year career. It looked as though his career was over for good.
Stephon Marbury could have simply lived off all the money he’d earned. Or he could have tried to latch onto another NBA team in an effort to extend his fading career. But he didn’t do either of these things. Instead, he chose to step back and take his career to the other side of the globe—to China.
In the Chinese culture, which is much more reserved, Marbury’s brassy manner and playing style were seen as much needed leadership for a basketball team. After two seasons in the Chinese Basketball Association (CBA), Marbury signed with the Beijing Ducks, a team that had never won a championship in the league’s seventeen-year history, despite being one of the league’s richest teams.
In Beijing, Marbury transformed from an NBA reject to a local legend. As the starting point guard, he averaged more than 30 points per game and led the Ducks to their first-ever championship in 2012. Before accepting the trophy, he was tossed in the air by his teammates. He then broke down in tears for more than fifteen minutes in the locker room. “This has been incredible,” he kept repeating to the reporters.
Two years later, he led the Ducks to their second championship. At age thirty-seven, Marbury became a hero to Beijing’s twenty million residents and received the “Beijing Honorary Citizen” award from its mayor. They even built a bronze statue in his likeness outside the stadium where the Ducks play. In every sense, Marbury went from fame to rejection, then back to fame again.
Say what you will about Marbury’s personality, but his “switch up” illustrates that there is possibility after rejection—and that rejection is not always the end of the story. Hanging on for dear life and giving up by quitting are not the only two options left after a no. Instead, sometimes you need to step back and reevaluate your talents and dreams, as well as the conditions and the environment in which you have been trying to get an acceptance. By taking a look at all of the factors, you might be able to find a new approach that will allow you to see an idea in a new light—and get the yes you’ve always wanted.
LESSONS
1. Ask “Why” Before Good-bye: Sustain the conversation after the initial rejection. The magic word is “why,” which can often reveal the underlying reason for the rejection and present the rejectee with the opportunity to overcome the issue.
2. Retreat, Don’t Run: By not giving up after the initial rejection, and instead retreating to a lesser request, one has a much higher chance of landing a yes.
3. Collaborate, Don’t Contend: Never argue with the rejector. Instead, try to collaborate with the person to make the request happen.
4. Switch Up, Don’t Give Up: Before deciding to quit or not to quit, step back and make the request to a different person, in a different environment, or under a different circumstance.
CHAPTER 7
POSITIONING FOR YES
The story of Jiro Ono, an eighty-five-year-old Japanese man who spent his entire life mastering and perfecting the art of making sushi, was brought to fame by the 2011 documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi. His small restaurant in Tokyo had become the most famous sushi shop in the world and a national treasure for Japan, so much so that President Obama made a stop on his visit to the country and claimed it was the “best sushi I’ve ever had in my life.”
One thing about Jiro’s restaurant that amazed many viewers was the grueling and detailed basic skills training that Jiro’s apprentices have to go through in order to work at the restaurant. They must first learn to properly hand-squeeze the hot towels the restaurant offers to patrons. The towels are so hot that they burn the apprentices’ hands. After they master that, they spend ten years learning to cut and prepare fish. After a decade of dealing with fish, they earn the right to cook eggs. One apprentice explained that he had to prepare more than two hundred batches of egg sushi over several months before he was allowed to prepare it for customers.
Jiro’s story shows the importance of learning the fundamentals before elevating to more complicated skills and eventually mastering the whole art.
If my entire art was to handle rejection, then not giving up after a no was like towel squeezing. I’d learned a lot, but there was much more to come. The next step was to learn different ways to position myself to receive more yeses in the first place.
Since getting a yes involves persuasion, I vowed to not tune down the craziness of my request to make it easy. I didn’t want to get a yes by making a cheap, obvious request; I was already so much more confident than I had been at the beginning of this journey that I didn’t need to boost my pride with easy yeses. Instead, I wanted to see if I could uncover some principles that would make a yes more likely, no matter what kind of request it was attached to.
GIVE MY “WHY”
100 DAYS OF REJECTION: GIVING $5 TO RANDOM PEOPLE IN AUSTIN, AND TAKING PICTURES WITH STRANGERS IN NEW YORK CITY
“The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Now give me money, that’s what I want.”
—BARRETT STRONG IN THE SONG “MONEY”
Is money what people really want over anything else, as suggested in Barrett Strong’s classic song? If so, I figured that giving people money—with no strings attached—would be greeted with overwhelming acceptance. At least, that’s what I was thinking when I positioned myself on a busy street corner in downtown Austin and offered $5 bills to random strangers walking by. I didn’t tell them what I was doing. Instead, I just stood there with my hand out and asked them if they’d like five bucks, without giving them any reason.
In the interests of not draining my bank account, I offered the money to only five people. Here are the results:
Person #1: She was very happy and kept saying, “That was very sweet of you!” She also offered to “give it to somebody, too,” when she saw a person in need.
Person #2: She eyed me with some suspicion and asked me if there was a catch to my offer. After hearing that there was no catch, she smiled and took the money—but told me to come back and pick it up if I needed it.
Person #3: He flatly refused the offer, saying, “I don’t need $5.” Before walking away, he pointed toward a nearby homeless shelter. “There are plenty of guys on the street who would die to have $5. Why don’t you give it to them?”
Person #4: He asked me what the $5 was for. “Nothing,” I said. He walked away quickly.
Person #5: She also asked me what it was for. Again, I said, “Nothing.” She laughed uncomfortably and walked away.
In the end, two said yes, and three said no.
—
Soon after that, I took my visiting aunt on a trip to New York City—a city always bustling with people. Everywhere we went—Times Square, Central Park, the Empire State Building—we saw people posing for pictures. Many times, the person taking the photo would politely ask strangers to step out of the frame or simply wait until they’d passed by. It was as if everyone was striving to show they were the onl
y people visiting these landmarks at that moment. Seeing this happen again and again, an idea came to mind. Since New Yorkers are as much a part of the fabric of New York as its buildings, why not ask random New Yorkers if I could pose with them on the street, with my aunt acting as the photographer?
Over the next few hours, I asked dozens of random people to pose with me. They varied widely by ethnicity, gender, and age. Some of them didn’t speak English very well. The only common factor was how I approached them. I told them that I wanted to take a photo with them because I believed that people are an integral part of a city.
Some of them initially thought I asked them to take a picture for me and were surprised to find out I wanted them in the picture with me. Others showed a little hesitation at the beginning and paused to process my unusual request.
But the most surprised person of all was me, because every single one of them said yes.
Plenty of people think the reason I got so many yeses during my rejection journey is because I lived in Austin, Texas, a place with a reputation for outgoing, quirky residents. They figure it’s a function of southern hospitality, and that if I made the same requests in place like New York or pretty much anywhere in Europe, I’d be sternly rejected.
In some cases, they might be right. But I had been rejected many times in Austin—sometimes when it was least expected, like when I’d tried handing out the $5 bills. But now here I was in New York, making a request that offered no benefit to anyone, and everyone I’d approached had agreed to pose for a picture.
At first glance, this made no sense. But after revisiting the videos, I saw one glaring difference between the New York photo request and the Austin money giveaway. In New York, I’d told each of those strangers on the sidewalk why I was asking them to pose with me in a photo—I wanted to include people, not just landmarks, in my photo. I hadn’t left it to them to fill in the blanks when it came to my motivation. As a result, they responded positively, even though the request was outside the normal social behavior they were used to seeing every day.