Crippled CEO Posts

Crippled CEO Blog #193:

A long time ago, I was hanging out with a friend of mine. She was a stripper.

(Yes, this is that kind of story. Buckle up.)

She wasn’t working — we were just talking. Another friend of mine, also a stripper, was there too. (Yes, plural. Yes, they’re both great. No, you don’t get their numbers. That costs extra.)

Anyway, they started talking shop — which, in this context, means they were talking about how to handle guys at work.

At one point, my friend — let’s call her Cinnamon, because I’ve never actually met a Cinnamon and this seems like the perfect opportunity — said something that stopped me.

She said, “Oh, I never give my number out at the club. I *sell* it. If they want it, it’s $100.”

The other stripper nodded in agreement, like this was just standard policy.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting there, suddenly very aware that I have her phone number. And I didn’t pay $100. I didn’t even pay in compliments. I just… have it.

But that’s not what hit me the hardest.

The real kicker?

I realized I couldn’t sell her number for $100.

If I had walked into that club, or anywhere, went up to a guy, and said, “Hey, I’ve got Cinnamon’s number right here. Just $100,” they’d have thrown their drink in my face. Or asked to speak to security.

Same product. Same number. Same ten digits.

But if she offers it for $100, men throw their Amex Black Cards at her like she’s the Pope of Verizon.

The difference? It’s not the product — it’s the packaging.

It’s the context. The story. The energy. The moment. It’s the way she presents it — and herself — that makes those ten digits feel like they might change your life.

She wasn’t just selling access to a cell phone.

She was selling hope.

Hope that maybe, just maybe, you’re not like the other guys. Hope that there’s something real underneath the stage lights and glitter. Hope that after this lap dance, you might be invited into the VIP section… of her heart.

It’s the same reason one person can sell a grilled cheese for $4, and another can sell one for $18 with “artisan sourdough,” “hand-aged cheddar,” and a side of “house-made nostalgia.”

Or — and this is my favorite example — it’s like a brick.

A regular red clay brick costs about $0.65 at Home Depot. It’s heavy, it’s plain, and no one’s paying attention to it unless they’re building a wall.

A Supreme brick — same shape, same size, same function — retailed for $30. That’s already a 4,500% markup.

And on the resale market? That same brick has sold for up to $1,000.

Same product. Same materials. One is 65 cents. The other is a collector’s item worth a mortgage payment — because it has a logo on it.

It’s not the brick. It’s the story you wrap it in.

And it applies to you.

You might be offering something truly valuable — a service, a skill, a product, your time — and people aren’t biting. Not because it’s not good, but because you haven’t figured out how to make it feel good to them.

So, look around.

What are you trying to sell?

And are you Cinnamon, or are you me awkwardly holding her number and realizing I couldn’t move it for a nickel?

You don’t need a better product. You need a better frame.

A better package.

A better story.

Tell the right one, and the same exact thing becomes exponentially more valuable — sometimes $100 more valuable.

So, ask yourself:

Is the thing you’re selling a phone number from Cinnamon at the club?

Or is it a phone number from me in a parking lot?

Same product. Only one gets paid.

(Do you know who gave me more than her number last night, and didn’t even charge me? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I’m putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I’d appreciate it if you subscribed.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #188:

Have you ever had someone believe in you way more than you believe in yourself?

It’s a weird feeling. Like someone’s read the back of your book and decided it’s a best-seller before they’ve even cracked open the first chapter.

It used to happen to me a lot. Colleagues. Friends. Customers. Employees. Romantic interests. People would meet me, spend a little time with me, and then, inexplicably, start acting like I was that guy. You know the one. Visionary. Charismatic. Capable. Confident. Charming. A little mysterious. Definitely knows how to cook something exotic.

Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there like, “I hope this person never asks me to point out France on a map.”

But over time, I realized something. These people weren’t dumb. They weren’t naïve. They weren’t imagining some fantasy version of me. They were just… early.

They were seeing the potential version of me — the one I hadn’t fully stepped into yet. The me I could be if I believed it as much as they did.

And that’s when I decided to try an experiment.

I decided to be who they thought I was.

Not in a fake-it-til-you-make-it kind of way. Not in a “let me pretend to be impressive and hope no one notices I’m actually panicking over how to spell ‘judgment’ without spellcheck.”

But in a “what if I just became that person” kind of way. What if I acted like I was the kind of guy who could handle this? The kind of guy who deserved the admiration? The kind of guy who gets it done, figures it out, and makes it look good while doing it?

What if I became the version of myself they already saw?

Spoiler alert: It worked.

I started making braver decisions. Speaking more confidently. Writing these blog posts like someone who had something to say. Running my company like the guy I thought my employees deserved. Dating like I was someone worth dating (imagine that).

And slowly, over time, the gap between who I thought I was and who people believed I was started to shrink.

Until one day, I looked in the mirror and realized: I was that guy now.

Or at least… closer.

So here’s my point: We all have people who believe in us more than we believe in ourselves. And instead of brushing that off as misplaced praise, what if we took it seriously? What if we looked at the version of ourselves they’re rooting for and said, “Okay, let’s build that guy.”

Because here’s the real kicker: That version of you? That better, braver, bolder version? That’s not a lie. That’s not fantasy. That’s you — just with the fear peeled off.

It’s like Michelangelo said about sculpting David: “I just removed the parts that weren’t David.”

Be who they think you are.

Because they’re not wrong.

(Do you know who I really became last night? Your mom’s fantasy. And then again. And again. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #187:

Today marks eight years since my dad passed away. Eight years since the phone call. Eight years since I last saw him, the larger-than-life man who had been a force of nature now reduced to stillness. Eight years since that surreal moment when the world kept moving forward without him in it.

Eight years is a long time. Long enough for a kid to go from kindergarten to high school. Long enough for an entire career shift. Long enough to build a company, tear it down, and rebuild it again. And yet, somehow, eight years is also nothing. Because it doesn’t feel like eight years. It feels like yesterday. It feels like forever. It feels like both at the same time.

Grief is weird like that. It doesn’t follow logic. You can be fine for weeks, and then some random thing—a song, a smell, a phrase someone says—hits you like a brick to the chest, and suddenly, you’re right back in it. Right back in the moment when you realized they were gone, reliving it like it’s fresh. I don’t know if that ever goes away.

But what I do know is this: My dad isn’t gone. Not really. I see him everywhere.

I see him when I make a tough decision at work, and I instinctively know what he would say. I see him in the way I organize things, the way I make checklists, the way I run my company. I hear his voice in my head when I double-check something “just to be sure.”

I see him when I push through something difficult because, without ever saying it, he taught me that’s what we do.

I see him in my successes—because they were built on the foundation he laid. The company I run, the life I live, the wisdom I (sometimes) pretend is my own—all of it has his fingerprints on it.

I see him when I look in the mirror. I have his eyes. His stubbornness. His ability to be right most of the time but still argue like his life depends on it even when he’s clearly wrong.

I see him when I hear myself give advice to a friend and realize, mid-sentence, that it’s something he once told me. Something I probably rolled my eyes at as a teenager but now find myself repeating like it’s gospel.

I see him in the way I treat people. My dad had a reputation for being honest to a fault. He was the guy who would tell you the truth even when you didn’t want to hear it. He was meticulous, thoughtful, and always did the right thing—even when it was the hard thing. If I can be half the man he was, I’ll consider that a win.

And I see him in the fact that, despite everything, he changed.

Because here’s the thing: My dad wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t always the man I just described. The first three and a half decades of his life were… rough. Addiction. Bad decisions. He screwed up a lot. But he turned it around. He became the man everyone remembers now.

That’s the part that gives me the most hope, even today. The idea that you can have 40 years of mistakes and still rewrite your story. That your past doesn’t define you—your choices today do. That change is always possible.

So yeah, it’s been eight years. And it still sucks. I still miss him. I’d give anything to have another conversation with him. But I know he’s not really gone.

Because I carry him with me.

And if you’ve lost someone, I hope you know—you carry them too.

(Do you know who left a lasting impression last night? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #186:

I had something important to do today. It was on my to-do list. It was actually the only thing on my to-do list. I made sure that was the case so I wouldn’t get distracted by other nonsense. Today, I was going to do the thing.

And instead, I spent an hour scrolling through Instagram Reels. Then I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about the history of ice cubes. Then I watched a 25-minute video on YouTube about why the McDonald’s ice cream machines are always broken (spoiler: it’s a conspiracy).

And by the time I looked up, it was almost dinner, and I hadn’t done the thing.

Oops.

We all have these days. The ones where we get nothing done. The days where we look back at bedtime and think, “What did I even do today?” and the answer is basically vibe in various locations.

And then, inevitably, the guilt creeps in. Because we have this deeply ingrained belief that wasting time is bad. That productivity is the ultimate goal. That every second should be spent working towards something. That if we’re not checking boxes, we’re failing.

I call bullshit.

The “Wasted” Time Wasn’t Wasted

Look, I’m not saying you should abandon all responsibilities, quit your job, and dedicate yourself full-time to mastering obscure facts about 18th-century shipbuilding techniques (although, honestly, sounds kind of fun). But the time you spent doing “nothing”? It wasn’t nothing.

Maybe your brain needed the break. Maybe you were absorbing ideas in the background. Maybe you were processing something. Or maybe—just maybe—rest is actually a requirement for doing good work and not just some optional side quest for the weak-willed.

And sure, if you spend every single day procrastinating, that’s a different conversation. But one “unproductive” day? That’s just life. Even machines need downtime, and you’re (probably) not a machine.

Productivity Is Overrated

Here’s the real kicker: the most productive people I know are the ones who aren’t grinding every second of every day. They take breaks. They mess around. They understand that inspiration isn’t something you can brute force.

I don’t know a single successful entrepreneur who schedules every second of their life in some military-grade productivity system and actually sticks to it. You know who does do that? People who are perpetually on the edge of burnout.

Sometimes, the best ideas come when you’re not trying. Ever had a brilliant thought in the shower? Or right before falling asleep? Or while aimlessly staring out a window like you’re in a moody indie film? Exactly.

The Secret Is Intentional “Wasting”

The key isn’t to eliminate “wasted” time. It’s to own it. Instead of feeling guilty about it, build it in. Let yourself have days where nothing gets done and know that’s part of the process, not a failure of it.

And if you really want to be sneaky about it, just redefine productivity. If you call lying on the couch watching a seven-part documentary on medieval bread-making “expanding your historical knowledge base,” suddenly you’re a scholar. You’re learning.

So the next time you “waste” a day, don’t beat yourself up. Maybe that day wasn’t wasted. Maybe it was just refueling. And if not, at least now you know way more about McDonald’s ice cream machines than you did before.

(Do you know who definitely didn’t waste her time last night? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I am putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I would appreciate it if you subscribed.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #185:

Sales is weird. It’s one of those things that everyone thinks they can do—until they actually have to do it. Then, suddenly, their brain turns to pudding, they forget how words work, and the prospect is left looking at them like they just asked for their social security number and a kidney.

Most people think selling is about talking—about pitching, about explaining features, about dazzling someone into saying yes. But that’s wrong. The best salespeople don’t talk people into things. They guide them. They lead them through a process where buying is the only logical next step.

And today, I’m going to give you a system to do exactly that.

It’s called the CLOSER Framework—and it’s what turns awkward, nervous conversations into smooth, confident closes. It’s what allows you to sell without feeling like a sleazy used car salesman.

Let’s break it down.

C – Clarify Why They’re Here

People don’t just wake up and decide to sit through a sales conversation for fun. They’re here for a reason. Your job is to figure out what that reason is.

Most salespeople mess this up immediately by assuming they know what the customer wants. They start spewing features and benefits without first understanding why the person is even considering this purchase in the first place.

Example:
Let’s say you sell high-end home security systems. Instead of jumping into a pitch about all the cool features, you start with:

“What made you start looking into a security system today?”

Their answer might surprise you. Maybe they just had a break-in in their neighborhood. Maybe their spouse has been nagging them about it. Maybe they travel a lot and want peace of mind.

Whatever their reason is, that’s what you sell to. Not the product. The reason.

L – Label Them with a Problem

People don’t buy products. They buy solutions to problems. If they don’t feel like they have a problem, they won’t feel any urgency to buy.

So, your job is to help them realize their problem—even if they haven’t fully articulated it yet.

Example:
Let’s say you’re selling gym memberships. Someone comes in saying they just want to “get in shape.” That’s vague. You need to dig deeper.

“So it sounds like you’ve been feeling a little frustrated with your energy levels lately?”

They might not have said that exact thing, but by labeling it, you get them to internalize the problem. And if they agree, you’ve now positioned yourself as the person who understands them better than they understand themselves.

O – Overview Their Past Pain

This is where we poke the wound a little bit. If they’re looking for a solution, chances are, they’ve tried something else before. Maybe it didn’t work. Maybe it was too expensive. Maybe it was a hassle.

You want to uncover that past failure—because if they felt the last attempt was good enough, they wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

Example:
Let’s say you’re selling marketing services to a small business.

“Have you tried any other marketing strategies before? What happened?”

If they say, “Yeah, I paid some guy to run ads, but they didn’t really work.”—Boom. Now you know exactly what NOT to do, and exactly how to frame your solution as different.

S – Sell Them the Vacation, Not the Plane

Most people sell the process. And the process, if we’re being honest, usually sucks.

No one wants to buy a diet—they want to buy being fit and confident. No one wants to buy a financial plan—they want to buy feeling rich and stress-free.

Stop selling the plane. Sell the destination.

Example:
Imagine you sell bookkeeping services to busy entrepreneurs. Most bookkeepers say things like:

“We reconcile your accounts, provide monthly reports, and help you manage cash flow.”

Boring. That’s the plane.

Instead, sell the vacation:

“Imagine never having to stress about tax season again. Imagine always knowing exactly where your money is, without having to waste hours in spreadsheets. That’s what we do.”

See the difference?

E – Explain Away Their Concerns

If someone has made it this far, they probably want to buy. But something’s holding them back.

They might not say it outright, but every prospect has objections. Price. Fear of making the wrong decision. Lack of trust.

The best way to handle objections is to bring them up first.

Example:
Let’s say you’re selling a high-ticket coaching program.

“Now, I know investing in something like this can feel like a big step. Some people worry if it’ll really work for them. Others wonder if they’ll have time to actually implement it. Those are all valid concerns—but here’s why our clients get results no matter what…”

By addressing concerns before they even say them, you take the power away from those objections.

R – Reinforce Their Decision

Most salespeople think the sale is over when the money hits the bank. Wrong.

People get buyer’s remorse. They second-guess themselves. And if you don’t reinforce their decision, they might back out—or worse, talk themselves into a refund.

Example:
Let’s say you just closed a sale on a high-end mattress. Instead of just handing them a receipt and sending them on their way, you say:

“You’re going to love this mattress. Within a week, you’re going to wake up feeling better than you have in years. And the best part? You’ll never have to think about replacing it for at least a decade. Best investment you’ll make in your sleep.”

You’re solidifying the rightness of their decision.

Final Thoughts

Sales isn’t about manipulation. It’s about understanding people. It’s about helping them recognize their own problems, showing them a better future, and making it easy to say yes.

If you follow the CLOSER framework, selling will feel less like selling and more like helping. And when you approach it that way, closing deals becomes a whole lot easier.

(Do you know who needed zero convincing last night? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I’m putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I’d appreciate it if you subscribed.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #184:

The ocean doesn’t care if you’re a good swimmer.

The universe doesn’t care about your plans.

And gravity doesn’t give a damn how expensive your phone was.

There’s this weird idea people have that if they just mean well enough or try hard enough, things should work out. That if they show up prepared and put in the effort, life is obligated to go easy on them. But that’s not how any of this works.

The ocean is going to do what the ocean does. If you jump in without knowing how to handle a current, it’ll swallow you whole—regardless of how many YouTube tutorials you watched beforehand.

The universe? Yeah, it does not give a single shit about your five-year plan. You can have the color-coded calendar, the vision board, the perfect strategy. And then—boom—your supplier vanishes, your car breaks down, your girlfriend leaves you for a guy with better abs, and suddenly your whole timeline looks like a toddler’s crayon scribbles.

And gravity? If you trip on a crack in the sidewalk, gravity is not pausing to consider how much you paid for that iPhone 15 Pro Max. That thing is going down, and if you’re lucky, only your screen protector will die a hero’s death.

What’s the lesson here?

Adapt.

You don’t argue with the ocean—you learn how to swim. You don’t yell at the universe for ruining your plans—you pivot. And you sure as hell don’t try to negotiate with gravity—you just buy a damn case for your phone.

Life doesn’t get easier because you’re ready for it. It gets easier because you get better at dealing with it.

The waves are coming. The detours are inevitable. Shit is going to break, people are going to disappoint you, and your best-laid plans will absolutely, 100% get wrecked at some point.

So stop expecting the world to play fair. It won’t.

What you can do is learn how to ride the waves, roll with the punches, and get better at fixing things when they break.

Because the ocean doesn’t care if you’re a good swimmer. But it does reward the ones who figure out how to stay afloat.

(Do you know who was absolutely not fighting the current last night? Your mom. She also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP, and you’ll get it, too.

Also, I’m on YouTube now. Go search for Crippled CEO and subscribe. Unless, of course, you enjoy making bad decisions.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #183:

Here in Boynton Beach, we have a road called Old Boynton Road. It connects to Boynton Beach Boulevard, like any normal road might, but as you follow it, something weird happens. It takes this odd, unnecessary curve, bending way out of the way, as if there’s something there to avoid. But there’s nothing there.

There used to be, though. A long time ago, there was a body of water right where the road curves. The lake was drained years ago, and now it’s just developed land with buildings and parking lots. But Old Boynton still swerves to avoid… nothing.

And I think we all have our own Old Boynton Roads.

We have habits, routines, and ways of doing things that made sense at one point. There was a lake, so we built a road around it. But then the lake disappeared, the reason went away, and yet… we’re still swerving.

Maybe you wake up early every Saturday morning to mow the lawn, even though your new HOA covers the landscaping now. Maybe you still send a detailed report to your boss every Friday, even though he hasn’t asked for one in years and only skims the emails. Or maybe you’re still holding on to that apology you feel like you’re owed, from someone who probably doesn’t even remember what they did.

We keep curving around these empty spaces in our lives, doing things because we’ve always done them, even when the reason for them disappeared ages ago.

And the funny thing is, we don’t stop to question it. We just keep following the curve like it’s the only way forward.

I wonder how many times we waste energy, effort, or even happiness on things that don’t matter anymore. It’s not even conscious most of the time. We don’t realize we’re doing it. It’s just… habit.

But if we pause for a second, if we actually look at the road we’re on, maybe we’ll realize there’s no lake there anymore. We don’t have to swerve. We can go straight.

And that’s a pretty cool thought.

(Do you know who didn’t take the long way last night? Your mom. She always knows the quickest route. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get the link as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I’m posting two videos every week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I’d love it if you subscribed.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #182:

There’s this weird little gap in life. You’ve probably noticed it. It’s the chasm that exists between feeling like you’re “not ready” and realizing it’s “too late.”

It’s sneaky, too, because it’s almost never an actual timeline. It’s a feeling. A mindset. A story we tell ourselves. And if you’re like most people, you’ve probably stood in that gap, stuck, more times than you’d like to admit.

The gap shows up in all kinds of places.

You’re not ready to start the new project, the new relationship, or the new habit… until one day, you look back and think, “I missed my chance.”

You’re not ready to speak up in a meeting, pitch your idea, or apply for the job you really want… until someone else does, and the opportunity is gone.

You’re not ready to reach out to someone you miss, someone you love, someone who hurt you… until they’re gone for good, and it’s too late.

This gap is where dreams go to die. It’s where regret sets up camp.

And the thing is, the gap is almost always imaginary. That “not ready” feeling? It’s rarely true. You’ve probably been ready for a while now—you just haven’t given yourself permission to act. And that “too late” realization? More often than not, it’s just your brain being dramatic.

The reality is that most of the time, you’re as ready as you’re ever going to be.

Let me tell you a story.

When I was in my early twenties, I wasn’t ready to run Life Saver Pool Fence. My dad had retired, and suddenly, this entire company was on my shoulders. People were looking at me like I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t. I felt like a fraud. I wasn’t ready.

But guess what? No one cared if I was ready. The business didn’t care. The employees didn’t care. The customers didn’t care. Ready or not, it was time to go.

So I figured it out. I stumbled. I made mistakes. Some of those mistakes were really stupid, like “what-the-hell-was-I-thinking” stupid. But I kept going. And somewhere along the way, I became ready.

Here’s the thing: readiness is a lie. It’s a mirage. It’s the procrastinator’s best friend and the perfectionist’s excuse. If you’re waiting to feel ready, you’ll be waiting forever.

Now, don’t get me wrong—there are actual deadlines in life. There are moments when opportunities really do expire. That’s why I’m writing this. Because the only way to bridge the gap between “not ready” and “too late” is to stop waiting for readiness and start doing something. Anything.

Feeling unprepared? Start small. Start messy. Start scared. Just start.

The best things in life happen when you step into the gap and act before you feel ready. When you stop overthinking, stop hesitating, and stop worrying about all the ways it might go wrong.

If I can run a company while feeling like a clueless kid who had no business being in charge, you can take the next step toward whatever you’re hesitating on.

And if you’re worried it’s too late, let me remind you: my dad didn’t start winning until he was 40. You’ve got time.

Just don’t waste it standing in the gap.

(Do you know who never hesitates? Your mom. She was ready last night, and she didn’t waste a single second. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #181:

There’s a lie we all love to tell ourselves. You’ve told it. I’ve told it. Your mom told it to me last night. (She’s a compulsive liar.)

Here it is: “I’ll be happy when…”

You know how it goes. “I’ll be happy when I lose 20 pounds.”

“I’ll be happy when I get the promotion.”

“I’ll be happy when I buy the house, get the new car, finally launch my business, make six figures, hit seven figures, find the right person, get married, have kids, send the kids to college, retire, move to Florida, or whatever.”

Let me save you some time: no, you won’t.

Look, I’m not saying those things won’t bring you joy. Achieving your goals feels good, no question. When Life Saver hit eight figures, I cracked a big, stupid smile, treated myself to an irresponsibly expensive watch, and did a little internal victory dance. (OK, it was external. Charlotte saw it, and I’ll never live it down.) But here’s the thing: that happiness? It’s fleeting. It’s a sugar high.

A few hours later, your brain says, “Cool. What’s next?”

That’s why chasing happiness by stacking accomplishments is like trying to fill a colander with water. No matter how much you pour in, it’ll never stay full.

You think you’ll feel complete when you get there, but here’s the truth no one wants to hear: there doesn’t exist. The goalpost keeps moving, and you’ll always find another “when” to chase.

So, what’s the alternative? How do you stop running on this treadmill of misery disguised as ambition?

You stop treating happiness like a finish line. You stop tying your joy to some future, hypothetical event. You start looking for it where you are, right now.

I know that sounds like some hippie nonsense, but hear me out. If a guy who can’t walk, dress himself, or wipe his own butt can feel genuinely, stupidly happy on a regular basis, I promise you can, too.

Here’s what’s worked for me:

1. Celebrate the Small Stuff

I’m serious. Did you make a killer cup of coffee this morning? Hell yeah. High five yourself. Did the dog finally stop peeing on the rug? That’s a win. Acknowledge it.

2. Gratitude is a Cheat Code

Look around. Right now. What’s good? Maybe it’s the fact that you’re reading this blog on your magical, glowing pocket computer while sitting in air-conditioned comfort, not dodging wolves in the wilderness. Pretty sweet, right?

3. Enjoy the Game

If life is a video game (and let’s be real, it totally is), then the fun part isn’t beating the final boss. It’s the journey—the grinding, the leveling up, the random side quests. Happiness lives in the little moments, not in the leaderboard.

4. Detach from Results

Work your ass off, absolutely. Chase big goals, yes. But don’t tie your happiness to the outcome. The process itself is where the magic happens.

Listen, I’m not saying you shouldn’t dream big or aim high. Ambition is awesome. Just don’t put your happiness on layaway. Don’t wait for “someday” to start enjoying your life.

Because “someday” isn’t guaranteed. You’ve got today. Be happy now.

(Do you know who was happy last night? Your mom. And let me tell you, she didn’t wait for ‘someday.’ Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I am putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I would appreciate it if you subscribed.)

Leave a Comment

Crippled CEO Blog #181:

The colors and textures of language influence the painting of our perspectives. There’s a word in Scottish — “hurkle-durkle” — that means the act of lounging in bed long after it’s time to rise. It’s an amazing word for something we’ve all done before. But imagine if you had a single word for that in English. Would you feel less guilty about enjoying those extra moments of comfort?

Now, English has its own treasure: “serendipity,” the art of finding something good without looking for it. No direct translation in other languages, yet it’s a universal concept, isn’t it? That happy accident, like stumbling upon a hundred-dollar bill on a sidewalk stroll.

And there’s more to this linguistic loot of words that we don’t have direct translations for in English:

• Saudade (Portuguese): That deep, nostalgic longing for something or someone that you love and miss.

• Sobremesa (Spanish): Lingering at the table after a good meal, sharing stories and laughs.

• Waldeinsamkeit (German): The forest solitude, the feeling of being alone in the woods, at peace.

• Komorebi (Japanese): The dance of sunlight through the leaves, a reminder of nature’s quiet beauty.

• Fernweh (German): A crave for travel, an ache for distant places, a homesickness for the unknown.

Each word is a window into the soul of a culture, the values they hold dear, and the experiences they treasure.

So, what does this mean for us as entrepreneurs or just people trying to do better?

Language isn’t just a tool for communication; it’s the operating system of our mind. When we expand our linguistic database, we upgrade our brain’s software. We become capable of seeing and feeling the world in ways we didn’t before. It’s like adding new features to an app you thought you knew inside out.

Imagine if we applied “hurkle-durkle” to our business philosophy. Instead of rushing to act, we linger a little longer in thought, allowing ideas to brew. And what if “serendipity” became a business strategy? Rather than over-planning, we leave room for happy accidents.

As you weave these words into your language, watch your world expand. You’re not just learning vocabulary; you’re gaining new eyes for unseen colors, new ears for unheard melodies.

So, next time you find yourself enjoying a “hurkle-durkle” morning or a “sobremesa” evening, remember that these words are more than letters strung together; they are experiences, emotions, and philosophies wrapped up in syllables.

(Do you know who I love to hurkle-durkle with? Your mom. She’s always trying to hurkle my durkle. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I am putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I would appreciate it if you subscribed.)

1 Comment