The Rare Case of Undeniable Excellence

When Henry Kissinger served as the Secretary of State in the United States, a new analyst started at the state department. The young analyst spent an incredible amount of time drafting a report. After working hard, he left the report for Mr. Kissinger. Later that day, Kissinger left the report on his desk, with a single question in red ink on the front of the report:

“Is this the best that you can do?”

The analyst was surprised at this comment, but also challenged. He reviewed the entire report. He spent hours revising to make it even better. Then he handed back to Kissinger.

The next day, he arrived at his desk with the report sitting on his desk. On the report was the same message in red ink.

“Is this the best that you can do?”

Now he felt more than challenged — he was angry. How could he do any better? He had done everything he could to draft this report. But he wanted to impress his new boss. So he dug even deeper into the document and spent an entire day revising and improving the report. Again, he left the report for Kissinger.

Yet again, the report was waiting for him on his desk, with the same message in red ink.

“Is this the best that you can do?”

Finally, he had enough. He could not revise the report any more. He walked in to Kissinger’s office, unannounced. He slammed the report on his desk.

“Yes, this is the best I can do,” he said.

Then Kissinger said, “Good. I will read it now.”

How did Henry Kissinger extract the very best from the young man?

Kissinger would not accept any work less than the man’s best.

. . .

The Source of Excellence

Excellent firms don’t believe in excellence — only in constant improvement and constant change.

— Tom Peters

Most people think that if you want to be great at something — truly excellent — then you must focus on being excellent. But it is not enough to want to be the best. There is more to it than that.

Excellence comes not necessarily from desiring to be excellent. It comes from having high standards — and constant improvement until those standards are reached.

Rare is the person who refuses to compromise lofty standards. Yet, we love and respect unequivocal, undeniable excellence — wherever we may find it.

. . .

High Standards Create Excellence

“Insist on the Highest Standards: Leaders have relentlessly high standards — many people think these standards are unreasonably high.”

— from the Amazon Leadership Principles

Jeff Bezos’ recent letter to Amazon shareholders explains how Bezos and Amazon strive for excellence across all of Amazon’s businesses. Essentially, Bezos believes that high standards create excellence.

In the letter, Bezos explains how Amazon teaches its leaders to use high standards.

First, high standards are contagious. Leaders can teach the standards to the rest of the team. Leaders can model the standards — and teams can “catch” them from the leadership.

Second, excellence and high standards are domain-specific. A team can be great at one thing, but bad at something else. Excellence in one area does not create excellence in all other areas.

Third, high standards require teams to find a model to recognize what excellence looks like. Without a model of excellence, high standards can be useless.

Fourth, leaders with high standards must develop a proper perspective or scope of what excellence will take to achieve. Excellence in a domain is never easy, and leaders must give their teams a realistic sense of the amount of time and effort required for the standards to be met.

Finally, excellence requires skills. Not every person on the team requires every skill, but some skills are required to meet the leader’s lofty standards and achieve excellence.

In a search for the rare cause of undeniable excellence, Bezos’ framework is indispensable. As he wrote in his letter, “Once you’ve tasted high standards, there’s no going back.”

. . .

Never Serve Less Than the Best

So what do high standards look like in practice?

Jon Favreau’s movie Chef provides a beautiful example of an individual who has high standards — someone who demonstrates excellence in cooking.

Chef portrays a chef named Carl Casper who loses his job in a conventional restaurant and then goes back to his culinary roots and opens a food truck. When Chef Carl finally obtains the food truck, he agrees to cook sandwiches for the men who help move the equipment into the truck. The chef’s young son, Percy, is helping to cook the food. Percy’s job is to press the bread and brown the crust.

Percy is doing well, until one loaf of bread is burned. Even though the crust is blackened, Percy tries to serve the burned sandwich to the waiting customers.

Chef Carl stopped Percy immediately: “Whoa, whoa, whoa — that’s burned.”

Percy replied: “So? They’re not paying for it.”

Chef Carl immediately stopped cooking and pulled his son Percy aside. Carl hasn’t been the best father for his son, but this is an opportunity to share part of his world with Percy. Here’s the exchange:

Chef Carl: “Slow down for a second. Is this boring to you?”

Percy: “No. I like it.”

Chef Carl: “Yeah, well I love it… Everything that’s good that’s happened to me in my life came because of [cooking]. I might not do everything great in my life, okay? I’m not perfect. I’m not the best husband, and I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best father. But I am good at this. And I want to share this with you. I want to teach you what I learned. I get to touch people’s lives with what I do. And it keeps me going and I love it. And I think if you give it a shot, you might love it too.”

Percy: “Yes, chef.”

Chef Carl: “Now should we have served that sandwich?”

Percy: “No, chef.”

Chef Carl: “That’s my son. Get back in there. We got some hungry people. He’s ready to cook.”

Chef Carl refused to serve a dish that was not representative of his best work, even if the customer wasn’t going to pay. In Chef Carl’s world, the rule is that if the food isn’t perfect, then don’t serve it.

The exchange between Chef Carl and his son Percy demonstrates how to achieve excellence in cooking, or anything else: never give less than your best.

Importantly, the only way that Percy could learn how to perform at a high level was for one person to hold the line at what was acceptable. The chef’s high standards created undeniable excellence.

. . .

Perfect Popcorn Is Only Made One Way

A local gourmet popcorn shop used to fascinate me with its perfect kernels in every bag. The flavors were amazing, with different cheeses and caramels. But what impressed me the most was that every piece of popcorn was large, the same size, and perfectly textured. How did this shop pop perfect popcorn every time? I had no idea, as my own popcorn efforts always ended up with different size pieces. My popcorn was still good, but never the same as this specialty shop.

The mystery ended one day as I visited a store where I could watch the popcorn being made.

How did this shop create perfect popcorn every time? I never expected the answer, because I assumed that the person responsible for creating the popcorn had perfected the art of popping corn — with no imperfect kernels.

To my surprise, the perfect popcorn was created the same way that I create my own at home — with one difference: all of the kernels that were not perfect were filtered and discarded.

This popcorn shop did not discover the method to create perfect popcorn. It simply discarded anything less than the best kernels.

Does it cost more to operate this way? Probably.

Is there waste involved? Maybe.

Does it create the best experience? Absolutely.

In short, perfect popcorn does not come from creating the perfect kernel every time. It comes from having high standards, and being okay with discarding anything less than the best.

. . .

Perfect Every Part of the Process

So how do you make the best of anything? Certainly, others can do it. But what about us?

I once heard speaker and writer Brian Tracy claim that he made the best Caesar Salad of all of the people in a huge auditorium. At first, his claim seemed odd. But then he explained what he meant — he had years constantly improving his own recipe until it was the best.

• He started off with an old recipe.

• Then he learned how to perfectly pick Romaine lettuce.

• Then he learned how to perfectly wash and clean the lettuce.

• Then he learned how to dry the lettuce so it had the perfect texture.

• Then he determined the best temperature to serve lettuce.

• Then he learned which ingredients to use for the best flavor.

• Then he learned how to select the best, freshest ingredients — and where to buy them.

• Then he focused on the dressing. He tried different types of dressings: without anchovies, then with anchovies, then different kinds of anchovies, then the best tasting ones, and then all types of ingredients to make the best tasting dressing.

• Then he tried different portions, and even different bowls and platters — the perfect taste included perfect presentation.

• He tweaked and constantly improved each step of his recipe — for years — until he had arrived at his perfect recipe. And he wasn’t done improving.

After listening to Brian Tracy’s efforts, I became convinced that he probably did make the best Caesar Salad in the room — even though we were in a stadium of 20,000 people.

We can follow Brian Tracy’s method for excellence: perfect every part of the process.

. . .

High Standards Are Not Enough

Having high standards is not the only prerequisite for excellence. Standards without constant improvement will never lead to the highest achievements.

Researchers have uncovered a strategy for improvement that leads to excellence: deliberate practice.

Deliberate practice involves engaging in activities that are beyond our comfort zone and then receiving ruthless feedback on our performance in those activities. Fast feedback allows you to improve intentionally and quickly.

As we find cases of excellence, it becomes obvious that constant improvement through deliberate practice drives individuals to excellence.

. . .

Constant Improvement Through Deliberate Practice

Christina Tosi’s career baking desserts has been nothing short of amazing. She is the founder and owner of Milk Bar, which has over a dozen locations. After attending culinary school and working in Michelin-starred restaurants, she eventually gave up cooking and began working as a restaurant executive. Even though she didn’t cook for the menu, she still enjoyed cooking — so she baked pastries and desserts for the staff meal before customers arrived.

Every time she cooked, the staff raved. Eventually, David Chang, the owner of the restaurant, told her that whatever she cooked, they were putting on the menu. Three hours later, the restaurants patrons could not stop talking about her desserts.

Now her desserts are famous, with Tosi a rising star and an instant brand. Her flavors and ideas affected people. How could one cookie be so good? You have to try one to find out.

But where did her success come from?

While being interviewed, Tosi revealed where she really learned to hone her craft. She cooked daily with well-known chef David Bouley. She would cook the same dish repeatedly and then taste the dish with chef Bouley. During the tasting, both Tosi and Bouley would deliberately evaluate each smell, bite, and taste. They thought about what she could change and modify to make the dish even better. Then, Tosi would try again, with the new knowledge guiding her next efforts. Years of constant improvement led to Tosi’s breakout — not just one good meal.

. . .

Watch Out for Exceptional Mediocrity

Most people who strive for excellence but never achieve it fall into a trap. They don’t realize the necessary ingredients for excellence.

Stories about Christina Tosi, Brian Tracy, and others reveal the causes of excellence: high standards and constant improvement. But while there are cases of excellence that we can identify, there are many examples of a lack of excellence.

On the path to excellence, exceptional mediocrity is one of the stumbling blocks. Exceptional mediocrity can come from two problems: either (1) we have high standards, but never improve, or (2) we have low standards and have met them. In short, we can get really good at something that doesn’t matter, or we can aim high but never change. Either one is dangerous.

Excellence is rare. But it does exist.

When we experience it, we want to talk about it. When someone sees it, they want to tell stories about it. Even more, when someone achieves excellence, it is worth talking about.

But few have the desire, skills, or knowledge to maintain the highest standards yet constantly improve.

The trap of exceptional mediocrity is real — and dangerous.

It is like the Robert Kiyosaki’s response to the person who asked him the question: “What financial advice would you give the average person?”

His answer: “Don’t be average.”

Don’t be exceptionally mediocre.

. . .

We Need Someone to Show Us We Can Do Better

Excellence is rare, but possible.

We might think that we have high standards or are constantly improving. Yet sometimes we need someone to hold us to a higher standard than we would set for ourselves.

Years ago, I heard a speaker start a presentation by asking everyone in the audience to reach their hands in the air as high as possible. Immediately, thousands of people thrust their hands into the air — this was seemingly as high as each person could reach.

Then the speaker asked the audience, “Is that as high as you can reach?”

Nods of yes could be seen across the stadium.

“Now I want you to reach just a little higher.”

And just with one comment, everyone summoned the ability to reach just a little higher.

“Are you now reaching as high as you possibly can?”

Again, the audience admitted that this was not as high as everyone could reach in the air. And then the speaker noticed something that made his point.

“If this is as high as you all can reach, why are none of you standing up?”

Virtually every single person in the place was painfully stretching one hand into the air. But not a single person was standing up. Every single person in the stadium was still sitting down.

Sometimes, we believe we are doing our best, but the truth is that we can do better.

While many of us may need someone else to expose us to higher standards, others need to be reminded that excellence doesn’t come easily.

. . .

No One Will Ask How Long It Took

There may not be better words to describe excellence than these: the advice provided by Aaron Pocock to his son, George, before George built his first racing shell for rowing.

George’s accomplishments in rowing are legendary. George became an accomplished rower, then moved to America and brought the nuances of the sport with him. In time, George built the racing shells for nearly every rowing team in America, at prices that colleges could afford.

George’s father, Aaron Pocock, was the best builder of racing shells in all of England. He came from a long lineage of boat-builders. Aaron Pocock built racing shells for Eton College, and his son George had grown up working side by side with his father near the Thames River.

Aaron was impressed by his son’s diligence not only in building racing shells, but also in his commitment to rowing the boats himself.

So when George was 17 years old, Aaron entered George into his first professional race. For the first time, Aaron let his son build his own boat.

Aaron Pocock’s advice before George actually built the boat encapsulates undeniable, unequivocal excellence more than nearly any other statement I have heard. It summarizes and points to what excellence means.

Before George Pocock started, his father told him this about his first boat:

“No one will ask how long it took you to build it — they will only ask who built it.”

Undeniable, unequivocal excellence is rare, but possible.