Do Cool Sh*t (3 page)

In this book, I will show you how I did it, step by step, for my business and for my personal life.

I challenge you to
ask yourself these two questions before you begin reading this book. It may seem easy at first, but when you really dig deep, the “why” is always tough.

• What is your definition of success?
  
• Why do
  you
  want to be successful?
  

SO . . . ARE YOU READY TO “DO COOL SHIT”?

This book is meant for those of you who want to have the greatest stories to tell. Your story will start from this very moment and when you look back at every year as it unfolds, you will say to yourself, “Wow, a lot of cool shit happened to me this year.” You will smile, be excited, feel grateful . . . and then carry on doing cool shit.

I wrote this book because I wish someone had told me earlier that this kind of life was possible, and perhaps in reading this, you can find the answers I had been seeking for so long. I, for one, had been frustrated with the reading material out there. I didn’t want to sit through another boring how-to business book, either from someone thirty years older than I am, to whom I couldn’t relate at all, or a book that solely tackles the nuts and bolts of starting and running a business.

I wanted to have answers for people like me—the new generation of people who didn’t want to follow the traditional paths of investment banking, management consulting, medicine, or law. Had I known that there was another way to approach entrepreneurship coming out of college, I would have jumped straight into it. Practical classes on starting a business were simply not taught in college, and being an entrepreneur was not even on my radar as a career option. This book is the road map that I wish I had been given when I graduated from college.

And where was the book that would show me where to find the coolest friends who were also doing the coolest shit? Or how to make room for true love in my life? These days, so many of us have thousands of online friends, but how many of them are real friends? Everyone wants to have love and feel loved. This book will show you how to get there.

I love stories. I love stories from firsthand experience and stories that have a purpose. I love stories that break things down for me in ways that I can digest and apply to my life. This is one of those books. You will walk away from each chapter with tangible takeaways and systems that you can apply in your life.

And last, this book will remind you that you have a backbone and that you are inherently strong. It will remind you that it’s cool to care and be excited about ideas, it’s cool to be proactive, it’s cool to mess up, it’s cool to work your ass off on something that is meaningful to you, and it’s cool to keep trying when the odds are stacked against you.

OK, go forth! And may you bask in the journey of doing cool shit.

2

STRAY FROM THE GROUP

How to Make Friends in New Places and Talk to Anyone, Anywhere

Why fit in when you’re born to stand out?

—D
R
. S
EUSS

M
y heart was racing as I sat in the waiting room outside the director’s office. What if he sent me home? I’d be the first person in the history of the Boston University London Internship Program to be sent home. But I simply couldn’t stay where I was, at that office. It was worse than a horror film, and it had given me nightmares for weeks. The women I was working for were total and utter bitches, I wasn’t learning anything, and of course, I wasn’t getting paid. Ideally, an internship should always be akin to an apprenticeship. Yes, you bring coffee and make copies, but you’re also supposed to be learning about the business, sitting in on low-level meetings, and networking. No, I decided. I would stand my ground and brace myself for the worst. I felt confident that if I was sent home, I would still have done the right thing, and I’d be able to spend my time more productively.

I think everyone should
study or live abroad at some point in their lives. I was given that opportunity during my second semester of junior year of college.

I played Division I soccer for Cornell University, and at that point, soccer defined me. This sport had taught me most of my biggest life lessons—the ones all sports teach a youngster: commitment, stamina, confidence, and teamwork. But also the less obvious ones—like resilience and the value of being scrappy.

My second semester of junior year was the only time I wasn’t playing soccer, so I jumped at the opportunity to try something different—to get some distance from this sport and my intense commitment to it. I was ready to fulfill the other college dream of mine: to experience, exist, and thrive in another part of the world.

I really could have picked anywhere to go study abroad. My twin sis, Rads, picked Paris. I had friends who did the Semester at Sea program. My friend Jen went to Spain. I wasn’t feeling a strong draw to France or Spain (or the sea sickness of Semester at Sea), so I ended up picking a city that also happened to be strongly defined by soccer, or should I say “football”: London, England. So much for taking a break from soccer!

I had always wanted to live in London. At the time, I had the biggest crush on Hugh Grant and dreamed that perhaps, while studying abroad, I would run into him in the streets by Big Ben or something and he’d ask to get a spot of tea with me. Hey, it could happen.

Another great draw was that the Boston University Internship Program’s credits were accepted by Cornell and it would be a unique opportunity to study abroad and intern at a real British business. It sounded perfect for me.

I had to then convince my parents to let go of their death grip on my academic path to success, and that this was the best idea for me
and
my education. My parents came from abroad originally, so it wasn’t too hard to convince them. My father came to America from India with five dollars in his pocket. My mother came from Japan and her lineage traced directly to some important Japanese samurais. (I’m part samurai! Don’t mess with me.) They both bravely ventured away from their respective home countries to study abroad in America. Their one year abroad turned into a lifetime once they met and fell in love.

Regardless of my parents’ wanderlust, academics have always been incredibly important to them and played a major role in our household. So I knew I had to work really hard to make them understand why I wanted to go abroad and not stay at Cornell, which would have been much more rigorous academically.

I put together a pitch presentation for my parents and worked to sell them on the idea using the following factors:

• I get to learn about a different country’s culture and traditions.
  
• I will gain real experience in business.
  
• I will be forced outside my comfort zone.
  
• This experience would save them money.
  

It
is
often cheaper to study abroad for a semester than to study at a private school in the United States for that term. And wouldn’t you know, the last bit was what put them over the edge. My adventure abroad was about to begin!

Do Cool Shit Takeaway

Create Your Personalized Pitch Presentation

If you
really
want to do something cool and need the support of your parents, teachers, or bosses, treat it like it’s a new business idea and put together a creative and professional personalized pitch presentation around what you want to do.

Create a simple PowerPoint deck (ten slides or so) that covers the following:

• What you want to do
  
• Three to five reasons why you want to do it
  
• Three to five ways it benefits you and them academically/professionally/personally
  

It helps to connect your dream with a dream held by the person you are pitching. It will help them to empathize with your situation and might just push them over the edge into agreeing to help.

Include lots of photos. A picture is worth a thousand words!

Check out a sample pitch deck at docoolshit.org.

With my parents’ blessing, I packed my bags. I made a promise that in order to truly integrate myself, once I arrived, I wouldn’t comingle with any other American students. I would entirely immerse myself in the British culture (and possibly come back to America with a hint of a British accent. I mean, Madonna managed to acquire one after only a couple of weeks there. If she could do it, so could I.).

Once I arrived at my two-bedroom flat in the posh neighborhood of South Kensington, I unpacked and made the easy walk over to the campus for orientation. I passed massive taxis driving on the “wrong” side of the street and was charmed by the quaint English cobblestoned streets. I couldn’t wait to experience everything I could in this enchanting city.

As part of our orientation, we had to take a “Culture Shock” class, which was supposed to teach us what we should and shouldn’t do during our semester in London. It was stuff like, “Don’t go up to random British people and talk to them.” They told us that British people aren’t as open as Americans. “Don’t talk on the tube,” as the British are pin-drop quiet on the subway. Hmm—I wasn’t digging the fact that the teacher was telling us what we shouldn’t do. It has never been my strong suit to take orders and, anyway, shouldn’t it be up to us to discover these things on our own?

I received my internship package and found out that I was going to be working with a prestigious PR firm in London. I was excited to start learning some hard business skills and gain an understanding of what public relations really was as an industry.

I was equally excited to go on the bike tour our program had organized for that afternoon, do some sightseeing of the British monuments, and spend some time in the town with a tour guide who I was sure would be equipped with a great story or seven.

Later, a group of about forty of us gathered by the bike rental place. The guide gave us one rule that we had to follow: “Don’t stray from the group.” No matter what, we had to stick with the group so that nobody got lost. It seemed like a reasonable request.

As we passed by Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London, I pictured every romantic comedy that featured these icons and smiled. Obviously, I kept my eye out for the Notting Hill neighborhood as we rode through the city.

It was at this point that we passed by the place that would end up kick-starting my entire experience in England: Hyde Park.

It was a Sunday, and on Sundays at Hyde Park, there were about a dozen soccer games going on at any given time. Yes! Soccer! I knew where I was going to be spending my Sundays for the rest of the semester. I scanned the games and realized that there was not
one single girl
in any of the games. Did no girls play soccer in London? I decided this was a good thing. I would definitely stand out in this crowd.

I studied the groups playing on that majestic lawn and noticed that there was one group of young gentlemen that seemed particularly cool (OK, fine, I admit it, they were hot). But they were also just playing a great technical game. They probably had dreamy accents too. As I was taking it all in, I hadn’t noticed that our bike tour was quickly moving past Hyde Park. Shit! What do I do? I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to potentially play soccer with a group of hot Brits!

In that instant, I had to make a game-time decision (pun intended). Do I lose the boring biker gang and meet some locals? After all, I had made a pact with myself to hang out with only Brits. A word came immediately to mind and I knew it couldn’t be ignored:
regret
. I simply couldn’t regret missing this incredible opportunity to meet the
very
people I came to London to meet.

I had my answer. I took a deep breath, smiled, and proceeded to ride my bike smack-dab in the middle of their game. (Who the F
does
that?)

I yelled (OK, it came out more like a shrill squeak than anything): “Excuse me! Hi! Can I talk with you guys real quick? My bike tour is leaving and I need to talk to you right away!”

These guys stopped playing, quizzically looked at one another, and finally tentatively approached me. One tall, ginger-haired guy named Ben, who I would learn was affectionately known by his friends as “Irish,” was first to talk.

“You all right?” he asked.

I replied, “I just landed from New York yesterday and I play soccer in college. I want to train while I’m here, so I was wondering if I can get your numbers so can we play sometime?”

These guys were so confused. After a long and awkward pause, Irish begrudgingly gave me his number. I grabbed it out of his hand and rode off to catch up to the bike tour.