The late (and legendary) Peter Drucker had a really
interesting take on the notion of responsibility.  According to him, responsibility has a direct relationship
with—and is likely synonymous with—authority.  He went onto explain it, saying that when someone takes
responsibility for something, they are making an explicit claim that they have
the authority (tangible, moral, or otherwise) to attend to it or to see it to
fruition.

Drucker went on to assert that validating claims of
responsibility according to this test was essential to creating and maintaining
a healthy socioeconomic system. 
This applied to both responsibility assumed and responsibility bestowed.

Although this implies larger societal implications
of bake my noodle proportions, it struck me most profoundly in the most micro
of economic levels.  The economics
of Yours Truly.

Taking responsibility for things I have no business having
my mits in is classic Bill True. 
I’ve definitely subscribed to the “more is more” mentality, and it’s
gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past.  It’s always been well intentioned, of course, an effort to
help out or do a good turn or whatnot. 
I’ve learned some hard lessons, though, as I've failed to keep promises time after time because I wasn’t in a position or didn’t have the ability to
keep them.  It's cost me credibility,
business, and even friends.  After all, the road to Hell is paved with tons of those little suckers, right?

To date, all I’ve really been able to do is recognize it as
a shortcoming of mine.  I know it’s
a problem, I know when it’s happened, and I know how to circle around and
grovel for forgiveness when I’ve really gotten myself into a pickle.  That, and I’ve turned flogging myself over
it into an art form.  What I couldn’t
see yet was a way to proactively sidestep the pitfall of over promising and
under delivering (or worse, not delivering at all).

Peter Drucker, turns out, is my hero.  He’s given me the answer.  Finally, I have really good litmus test
to determine whether or not opening my trap is the right thing to do.  From now on, when that little voice
whispers in my ear, “You know, Bill…” I am going to take a moment and ask
myself two important questions:

1.    
1. Do I have, at present, the ability in terms of
time, connections, experience, and knowledge to deliver on the promise of
assistance I am about to make?

2. Even if I have the ability, is taking on the
work associated with this promise really the best thing for either me or the
other person?

For years I've struggled with saying no to people because
I’ve been afraid that doing so would jeopardize my relationship with them.  I’m a people pleaser.  It’s what we do.  It’s more than that, though.  I’ve also had difficulty seeing whether
or not making the promise would adversely impact the relationship later
because I wouldn’t be able to fulfill it. 
Moreover, I didn’t have a simple and compelling definition that helped
me see it when it’s happening, as well as to understand how and why it’s not
only bad for me, but also bad for society in general.  In other words, I didn’t have a strong argument with
respect to possible negative future impacts, should I make the promise, that could
overcome my desire in the moment to say yes.

Now I do, and I’m excited to try it out.  So if I tell you “no” in the coming
days, weeks, months, and years, don’t be offended.  I’m simply contributing to the socioeconomic health of you and
me…and to the whole wide world.

After I hit publish on the last two posts, I fretted.  I worried that they weren’t dynamic or
groundbreaking or clever enough.

On one hand, the fretting is all me.  It’s one of my favorite pastimes, and I
am really good at it.  On the other
hand, the fretting speaks to a deeper issue—a truth—that’s important to
mention.

I dove back into the blogsphere because a good friend of
mine in the self-help/professional development world encouraged me to do
so.  She thought I had a lot to say
about “getting real” in the personal and professional realms that people needed
to hear.  That felt good, and I was
excited about the prospect that my words could help people.  When it came down to sitting in front
of my keyboard, however, I froze.

I mean, I couldn’t write just anything.  People were counting on me!  I needed to be brilliant!  And cool!  No one would notice, much less care, otherwise.

Wait a minute…that didn’t make sense, either.

A very dear friend of mine told me something about Paul
McCartney and the way he works. 
Apparently, he sits down at the piano for three hours nearly every
day.  He plunks and he plays, and, according
to him, very little of it feels inspired. 
Very little of it evolves into a hit song.

That story popped into my head again, and it gave rise to a
thought: what if it was okay to just keep it simple?  What if it was okay to NOT be brilliant in this moment?  What if it was okay to give what I have
right now…to keep it simple and basic, and just put something—anything—down?

Thus, the post “Confessions of a ‘Go for It' Guy” was
born.  After I read the thing,
I…well…you know.  But later I
realized that by allowing myself to be where I was, not beat myself up for it,
and then take a step forward anyway was a pretty brilliant stroke.

For one, it meant that I wrote something.  When you’re a writer, this is a pretty
big deal.  It’s the “you can’t win
if you don’t play” thing.  Any words
on paper means there’s a chance you might hit pay dirt.  No words on paper means a zero percent
chance that’s going to happen.

For another thing, I realized that most basic concerns in my
life, like how I stay on task to achieve my aspirations or how I deal with
anger, might be the same things that vex other people, too.  Suddenly, worrying about being dynamic
and groundbreaking and clever felt kind of selfish.  Meeting myself at the intersection of energized and nervous,
being honest with myself, and walking forward despite my urge to run away…all
of a sudden felt pretty dynamic. 
And groundbreaking.  And
maybe even clever.

It definitely felt real.  And helpful.  That
made all the difference and relaxed my furrowed brow.