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Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours may be one of the most famous numbers in recent years. Not that there are that many others people refer to regularly. Perhaps if you’re a science type you’re familiar with Avogadro’s number (6.02214154 x 10 ^23.) Most internet search engine users know googol (the number one followed by a hundred zeros). Math and finance people use Euler’s number . Those of us growing up in the early seventies know the number of licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop (three.)
But Gladwell’s 10,000 is new compared to those mentioned above. And very different. From his bestselling 2008 book Outliers: The Story of Success, it refers to the estimated number of hours of practice one needs to become an expert at a skill like chess or golf. The story of how Gladwell arrived at that number is explained well and challenged here. But the idea of a number of hours of input to strive for is appealing. It would certainly simplify things.
10,000 hours is about five years of full-time employment (forty hours a week.) That’s not too long if you’re talking about becoming a professional tennis player or violinist. People expect a considerable investment of time is needed to develop such expert skills. But could that number be reduced a little for less demanding pursuits?
The quantity of 10,000 hours does not intrigue me as much as the idea that there exists a threshold from mediocre to grade A. Imagine if you knew that running for seven hours a week for twelve straight weeks guaranteed you would drop twenty pounds. Nothing else needs to change; just reach that number. Would that simplify things or what? I’d carve my schedule into a stone calendar right this second and start tallying the days and weeks.
Consider writing poetry. Suppose 500 hours of composing verse could turn me into an award winning poet. That would be so perfect! Success would mean simply arranging life so I could start putting in those hours. I’d be highly motivated, knowing that each hour I worked was an hour closer to my reward. Maybe some days I would invest ten or twelve hours. I could publish my first book and start collecting royalties in less than three months.
To be fair, that is not at all what Gladwell observed. Clearly the experts he studied didn’t just grab a racket and spend eight hours a day volleying with a wall. Or tuning their guitars and playing Kumbya all week. What those talented people did during those 10,000 hours (and the entirety of the lives they led while they practiced) was obviously important. But still, if you have some kind of template or instructions to follow to guarantee your time is properly spent, is there a magic number one can reach that turns everything to gold?
In some ways, I think so. I’ve never been a salesperson, but a friend of mine went into phone sales some years ago. He trained with a neighbor who was very successful and he quickly learned the skills needed. He could field any question and pique the interest of the most recalcitrant and resistant people. But his first week was still disappointing. He asked his mentor what to do.
The mentor’s reply was fascinating: he simply said keep going. Keep making calls. Currently, as an experienced salesperson, he made a sale about every ten or twelve calls. Back when he was just beginning, it took nearly twice as many to make a sale. He said once he realized that a certain number of contacts brought results, it became a game. How many calls could he get in before noon? How many sales would he have at the end of each day? Because he knew that quantity (not quality) of calls and sales were directly proportional, he knew he could always hit or exceed his target.
I ran into the same idea in San Francisco. While we vacationed there my friend and I met a guy giving out passes for a free lunch and tickets to one of the attractions on the Wharf. The catch was we had to sit through a sales pitch for vacation properties. I told him no thanks, we were on our way somewhere and didn’t want to visit that attraction anyway.
So he changed his tune: how about fifty bucks cash, apiece, and a free lunch if we just sit through a presentation? Now he had my attention. But still, I couldn’t just take the money. It wouldn’t be fair to you, I said. There’s no way I’m buying anything. He assured me he was not concerned about that. He only had to get people into the office. It didn’t matter if I bought the goods because someone else would. Eventually. He claimed his magic number was twenty appointments a day.
So we said yes; showed up on time, and chowed down. I said no thanks, after the lovely meal and presentation, and asked for my payout in fives and tens. But my friend said yes! The guy was right. A certain number of appointments always led to a sale (and there were several others buying while we were there as well.)
One last for instance. And I know this is mostly a sales pitch in itself to buy her book, but a certain writing coach claims she didn’t start making a substantial income from her ebooks until she had published twenty eight. (And yes, I did “buy” her book, but only because it was on Kindle unlimited, to which I already subscribe.)
Are there really magic numbers? Is it actually just a matter of schlepping along (albeit mindfully schlepping) till you reach them? Come on, you have to admit you want to know! I’m kind of thinking yes. At least for some things. Because I believe I’ve found a few of my own.
One hundred is the upper bound on daily carbs that still allows me to lose weight. Seven is the ideal number of hours of sleep for me on weeknights (so I don’t have to go to bed too early.) Sixty minutes (minimum) of exercise every day keeps the dogs happy. Drinking about eight ounces of water every waking hour prevents stomach upset. I hold most stretches and strengthening moves to the count of twenty.
The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to bet that most of us do indeed have magic numbers scattered throughout our days and lives. And if that’s true, I’m also willing to bet some of those numbers are not necessarily positive.
Like this: sometimes if I’ve eaten too much or had one too many I say fuhgetaboutit and just keep going. My head’s already buoyant, what difference can another shot make? I’ve consumed four donuts in rapid succession, what’s a handful of M & M’s? Fortunately I’ve largely put such actions in the rear view mirror. As I look at them through this new lens of magic numbers, however, I see they’re real. There are limits I reach in both directions that can elicit automatic responses. I want control over that.
And I also want to analyze it. The proclamation that it takes twenty one days to form a habit or thirty days may have some truth to it. But as Brian King, Ph. D., points out here, “…I am pretty sure it does not take 21 days of smoking crack to develop a crack habit.” No argument there. Instead he asserts the ease of acquisition idea. If something makes you feel good and is easy, you do it. He explains that we might have so many bad habits by the time we advance in adulthood because of just that: we found the easy stuff first. TV. Instagram. Wearing pajamas all day on Sunday.
But then he circles back to an interesting idea: certain numbers are not exactly magic but they may very well act as “psychological placebos.” If I stick to lifting weights every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for three weeks, I’ll probably keep going. Not because twenty one itself is magic but because by that time I’ve begun to reap the rewards of the new behavior. It feels good and it’s almost easy. Probably because I’ve engineered it to be in order to reach that milestone to begin with.
I like King’s idea about the placebo, but I also wonder if that’s really what’s going on. When we set goals of maintaining a practice for twenty one days or one year or whatever, we’re actually acknowledging that change takes time. We’re admitting Rome wasn’t built in a day. Choosing a specific number means we don’t quit early. And it really does simplify the commitment. Too often I talk myself out of my decisions when times get tough. Choosing a magic number of days to work means I don’t have to waste time with doubt. The deadline itself guarantees time for analysis and regrouping.
So what I conclude here is yay! Go ahead, designate some magic numbers, whether or not you believe in magic. Or numbers. Everyone knows the placebo effect is powerful (and totally fascinating.) Let’s put it to work and see what happens.