The Concorde Fallacy
A discussion on supersonic jets and changing career trajectories
In 2013 I moved to California.
After having lived in Florida for 28 years, I chose to leave.
Don’t get me wrong, Florida was great for the first quarter of my life (1-25 years). Growing up as a kid, going to college in Florida - specifically Gainesville - was a quintessential coming of age experience. Long bike rides in the fall heat, spring breaks in cheap (and horrifically gross) St. Augustine condos, sweating through summer baseball uniforms in 100% humidity - Florida had it all. But eventually we all need new perspectives (Neatworking article spoiler alert), and once i crossed into the “Q2 of my own mortality” it was time to seek out that perspective.
And although I’m sure I could have found it closer to home, there was no place that pulled me like California pulled me. Every time I dreamed of leaving, I was dreaming of California.
At first my dreams took the form of packing up after undergrad with one of my buddies to go become roofers in San Diego. (Because what else am I supposed to do with this Classical Studies degree?) Hit dawn patrol surf in the morning, slap some shingles on a roof during the day, grab sunset break at night. Not a bad gig.
But of course, reality set in, and the apparent need to leverage my now-paid for schooling took hold (another spoiler alert here) - so onward to graduate studies I went: law school.
These California dreams continued to catch up to me, however, even in my post-bach years. Where days at the library were juxtaposed with evenings and weekends spent at comedy clubs dotted around the south. Telling inappropriate jokes to half (or fully) drunk patrons, sleeping in “does it feel kind of damp in here to you?” hotel rooms, and dreaming of ditching school and escaping to Los Angeles, chasing dreams of fame and fortune (because we all know how famous and rich comedians are…right?)
Once again, reality set in. Move to LA? Tell jokes in dive bars when I have a law degree from one of the top law schools in the nation? Shouldn’t I be putting all of this schooling to work?
Ugh.
Fine.
So onward I went, to become a “real” attorney.
But as I sat at my desk, in Florida air conditioning (always cooled to a refreshingly stupid 55 degrees - meaning you sweat on the walk into work and then have to put on a jacket as soon as you enter the building) reviewing NDAs, writing never-ending contracts, and pretending to know what I was talking about (still do), those dreams persisted.
Finally, after years of being chased by the dream of costal change - the allure of the west - the California myth - it was time to make those dreams a reality.
Subsequent to leaving a stable in-house gig in Gainesville (oops), and a lackluster run in downtown Orlando (I will refrain from a digression into my very pointed opinions on the city of Orlando), it was clear that Florida had run its course for me - and after a cursory discussion with my girlfriend over a Little Caesar’s pizza at the dinner table of my rented Thornton Park house (one of the only redeeming neighborhoods of Orlando, imo), the decision was made. Time to stop letting our dreams chase us, and time to start chasing them ourselves.
So we left.
Sold everything we owned, packed ourselves (and a cat) into an old Honda Accord, and drove across the country in search of the dream we had only experienced through Beach Boys songs and John Cusack movies - landing in San Francisco, California (seems like each time I dreamed of California, my dreams moved further north)
Palm trees, perfect surf breaks, and impeccable vibes aside - it was tough.
Not because our new life wasn’t everything we had wanted it to be, but because when you spend any amount of time building something: a relationship, a career, a business…anything - it can be hard, downright impossible, to leave. You’ve worked so hard getting to where you are, invested your time, your money, your mental and emotional energy into something - are you really about to give that all up?
ARE YOU?!
Yes. And so should you.
(don’t worry, i’ll tell you why)
Leaving Florida behind - despite all of the work I had put in, all of the relationships I had built, the fairly easy path of “become a dog-bite attorney in Delray Beach and chill” that lay ahead of me - remains the best personal and professional decision I’ve ever made. And forgetting about the time, money, effort I had invested - into something I was no longer interested in - was one of the most powerful things I’ve been able to do. And one we should all do.
PHEW! What a soliloquy (you can tell its been a while since I’ve written one of these), and finally leads me to our Neatworking connection of the week, Kyle Robisch (Partner, Latitude Legal).
Kyle and I met at the University of Florida a few years back and, as I’ve come to appreciate over those years (and our time spent the other friday morning together), have shared a very similar experience and understanding as to the power of choosing something new. The power of looking past what you’ve put in(to your current journey), to what you could get out (of your future journey).
Ready to jump in with me, Kyle, and the power of sunk costs? Lets go!
Kyle, much like me, started his journey at the University of Florida. And then (less like me) went to Vanderbilt law school (a much more prestigious law school than the University of Florida, but we won’t hold it against him). Kyle clerked for a judge out of law school (showoff), and eventually went and nabbed a solid big law job as an associate (seriously, what a showoff!), making his way up the ranks to partner (geez enough already!), you know - standard attorney stuff. The stuff we all watch about on our favorite legal tv-shows.
To all looking on, Kyle’s career trajectory was what all attorneys aspire to be.
He had a resume that dripped off the page like the cheese of a hot-n-ready Little Caesar’s pizza (I know what you’re thinking, already TWO Little Caesar’s references in one Neatworking post? Well don’t worry, I’m sure i’ll fit another in somewhere.)
Awesome schools, clerkships, law firm associate, made partner.
High-powered litigator.
Life was set. Right?
Wrong.
(If it was, then this wouldn’t be much of a Neatworking post, would it?)
As it turns out, right around the same time Kyle made partner, he also welcomed a second child, his daughter, to the world. And was faced with the problem all of us type-A, “bring my work laptop on vacation”, kind of people are faced with during these incredible once in a lifetime moments: How much time should he take off for parental leave?
When my son was born, I faced a similar problem. The fact that I’m even calling it a problem shows you that the “problem” wasn’t even the event itself, it was how I VIEWED the event. A problem?! Taking time off to celebrate the birth of, and connect with, your child? How is this even a question?
Well, as it turns out, it is a question for many of us.
And one that unfortunately - both myself and Kyle got wrong the first time around. Kyle and I spent time during our chat lamenting the fact that for the birth of our first child(s?) we barely took any time off. Because of course, if we took too much time off the world would end, right? If we took any more than two weeks off, the business would fail, our teams would implode, and the industry would collapse. Surely. Surely that was the case.
But, of course it was not.
We both returned to work, much too early, and accomplished nothing of materiality or note when we should have been spending that time connecting with our (newly expanded) family.
Well - Kyle was not going to make that mistake twice.
So, the latest and greatest partner of the firm, decided to truly take time away.
Unwind.
Reconnect.
Appreciate his family. His life.
And - gain perspective. Perspective on what he wanted that life to be.
Its amazing what happens when we give ourselves space to think.
Whether that’s over a few months of extended parental leave, or long pauses over $5 dollar pizza (third reference!) - perspective is gained at these key moments of reflection, giving ourselves the ability to see what we really want.
And what did Kyle want?
Well, he didn’t want to litigate anymore.
He didn’t want to be a partner at a law firm anymore.
He realized he didn’t truly enjoy what he did.
This time, spent with his family, truly disconnecting and gaining perspective, allowed him to see what he truly wanted to do.
He wanted to build. Connect. Grow people and businesses through his work.
(And as we all know, litigation is effectively, the antithesis of building.)
He wanted meaning, through positivity. Not through confrontation.
But wait - hadn’t he been working his whole (professional) life to get to where he was today? Didn’t he JUST MAKE PARTNER?! Surely he can’t throw it all away. Too much time, too much money, too much invested into getting to this moment to dump it all - right?
Wrong (again!)
Which brings us to the main point we’ve been circling around and not-so-secretly hinting at this Neatworking - the concept of sunk costs, and in particular, the “Concorde Fallacy” (I mean, you can also call it the sunk cost fallacy, but the Concorde Fallacy sound so much cooler. It sounds like an old Tom Clancy book about a jet carrying top secret government documents that gets hijacked by Soviet spies and U.S. special forces are assigned to take it back from them in some daring mid-air coup)….(hmmm, actually I realize I’m actually just describing the 1996 Kurt Russell movie Executive Decision, but in any event…)
You see, the Concorde was a supersonic jet aircraft that rose to popularity in the 80s. Really incredible technology for its time, traveling at over twice the speed of sound and could do New York to London in THREE HOURS. You kidding me?
“hey brb - I’m gonna shoot over to Paris for lunch - be back in time for the Lakers game tonight!”
But the Concorde had problems. Lots of them.
Huge costs mounted as Concordes were produced - costing almost 10 billion pounds (pounds are some kind of silly British currency, so i’ve been told), and only producing 20 jet aircraft. And was likened to “Lamborghini making a bus” (really nice, really expense, really unnecessary)
Additionally, fuel costs were astronomical, making ticketing costs massive. Roundtrip Concorde flights were around 30x compared to the cheapest ticket options for the same flight path at the time.
Also, it was noisy. Flying past the speed of sound causes sonic booms (those of us in Florida remember these from the reentry of the space shuttle back in the 90s) - so airlines were only able to use the Concorde for overseas routes (fish care much less about noise pollution, apparently)
And finally, it had huge engineering challenges - with supersonic speeds causing maintenance and safety issues.
The last straw was a fateful Concorde crash that killed 100 passengers, and they were finally / officially retired…over three decades later, in 2003!
Lots of problems, lots of headaches, and lots of concerns…So why the 30+ year service run? Shouldn’t they have shut down the Concorde project decades before they did?
Yes, they should have.
But they didn’t.
The reason: sunk costs.
The Concorde Fallacy.
The Concord Fallacy is when a person, people, an organization, whoever, allow the past cost of something to influence their decision-making today. In particular, when that cost is COMPLETELY UNRECOVERABLE (time, money, emotion), but still looms over the project, coercing the decision maker to stay engaged, stay involved, and keep pushing for fear of “losing their investment”
A never-ending investment.
A bottomless pit.
The sunk costs keep mounting, but the pit never fills. It keeps costing. It keeps sinking. Until eventually, outside forces put a stop to it (investors run out of patience, you run out of money, your team runs out of time, everyone runs out of emotion, you get it) - and by that time you’re farther into the hole than had you just pulled out from the beginning.
And I think we’ve all experienced (are experiencing, or will experience) our own Concorde Fallacy at some point in our lives.
For me, my Concorde Fallacy was the prospect of staying in Florida, and reaping (albeit begrudgingly) what I had been sowing for years.
For Kyle, his Concorde Fallacy was the prospect of staying at his firm, and continuing to be the picture-perfect lawyer he had worked so hard to become.
And he started adding to the same pit we’ve all dug.
“but I’m a lawyer!”
“I went to law school!”
“I already paid the money and did the work!”
It was all in the pit.
He already built the Concorde.
But was it worth still flying?
Could he admit to himself it was time to stop? That it was no longer worth it?
You see, one of the main hurdles in overcoming the Concorde Fallacy is our ego.
We wrap our own egos up so much in ourselves, in our projects, in our prior trajectories, that unwinding it from these things can seem impossible.
As if we’re admitting defeat.
But in not admitting this, we do nothing but continue to defeat ourselves.
In not admitting this, we continue to give the Concorde Fallacy power.
Removing your ego from the Concorde Fallacy removes its power.
All of a sudden, with your ego out of the way, it ceases to matter how much money you’ve put into something, how much time you’ve put into something, how much you’ve invested into something. All that matters is what’s best for you. For your organization. For your family.
With your ego out of the way, you can ground yourself. Ground the Concorde.
And that’s exactly what Kyle did.
With the support of his family, and the network he had built, he pivoted out of being a litigator, being a law firm partner - and pivoted into what he truly wanted to do. Building relationships. Connecting with people. And helping everyone grow.
And he’s doing exactly that at Latitude Legal, building a community and a marketplace geared at new ways of thinking about legal staffing and legal engagements (still got the Partner title though, so thats pretty cool).
He’s done building his Concorde.
Sure, it looked cool at first, but its no substitute to investing in what will truly makes him feel successful.
“You seem happier” Kyle’s wife notes of him on his new career journey.
And that’s one of the greatest powers of overcoming the Concorde Fallacy. Not worrying about whether your choice looks cool, whether its got the same fancy title, or whether it makes you the same amount of money.
Its all about what makes you a success.
Not what others think success is.
Not what your past would think success is.
Its about what you think success is. Now.
Its about what makes you happiest.
…Even if it takes you a few more hours to get across the ocean.