Member-only story
The dumbest decision I ever made (and the Nobel Prize that explains it)
Decision science, Family Guy, and why the “safe” choice is often the riskiest.
I know exactly when I ruined my life.
A touch overdramatic, yeah, but stick with me, because this story — about a single moment in Singapore 27 years ago — might also explain why you’re stuck in a job you hate, why you’re still living in a city that doesn’t set your soul on fire, or why you haven’t started that business or written that book or launched that podcast.
This was June, 1998. Closing Time stood at the top of the charts, and I stood at the entrance to Singapore’s immigration building, my hand on the door.
I was coming to the end of one of the most amazing years of my life, doing a job I absolutely loved, in a country that had quickly become home. The only thing that stood between me and keeping all that going was one door.
See, even though I’m a surgeon now, I never wanted to be one. Like actively, adamantly, deeply did not want to be a doctor. I wanted to be a rock star (because what little boy doesn’t want to be a rock star?) Or I wanted to be a linguist (because what little boy doesn’t want to be a linguist?)
But, I’m the first-born son of an immigrant family, so I really only had three options: doctor, lawyer, or failure.
I chose the first, and I hated it. Hated every single minute of medical school. In fact, not one month into med school, I made an appointment with my dean to tell her I was quitting.
She suggested I take a year off instead.
And that’s how I ended up in Singapore, teaching organic chemistry and cell biology at Ngee Ann Polytechnic. The comparison couldn’t have been stark: I hated medical school, and I loved teaching in Singapore. I loved the work. Loved the country. Loved the food. Loved the students. Loved my colleagues.
A brave person would have noticed the contrast, noticed how the depth of my hatred for medical school was perfectly matched by my love of what I was doing in Singapore.
A brave person would have seen this dichotomy.
