Let’s just accept a basic fact of life: most people can’t handle weird or different, even if it is better. (For the purposes of this analysis to follow, let’s assume any way in which you may be weird is actually better; better or not makes no difference for the argument here.)
And there’s a very basic reason why: it’s distracting. Especially for normies.
Imagine you are having a meeting with someone. During the meeting, they start singing and spinning. You keep on making on-target, good points, but the person you’re meeting with is doing hula hoops. Even if he’s brilliant with great insight, wouldn’t the dancing meeting just distract you every minute of the meeting? So, it would be nearly impossible for you to focus? Yes, I thought so. And for me, too.
So, when you do something unique or weird, this is how the world interprets it.
It pains me to admit this since I love wearing mandala shirts and crazy colorful patterns. But it has distracted more people than I would care to admit in serious contexts.
There аre, of course, a lot of reasons to love idiosyncrasy. It’s what separates you and makes you more memorable than all the other generic frat boy-types or sorority girl-types they’ll meet. But is that really what you want to be remembered for? Maybe it’s better to focus on ensuring you’re remembered for the quality of your work, or the quality of the experience of working with you, isn’t it?
There is an exception, however, when you’re a superstar. If you’re Steve Jobs, you can get away with being as weird as you want. But you’re not Steve Jobs. Yet.
This reminds me of one time when I met with a friend who is a dot-com superstar, sold his last company for a few gazillion dollars, and with nothing else to do, he flew around the world to spend time near me so we could brainstorm and plot together. He had an idea he wanted to pursue with me. So, we met for a coffee and he, the 40-year-old man, showed up wearing a bunny-themed adult onesie. It pained me to concentrate in the meeting. But he could get away with dressing like that, only because of who he was and what he had done.
There is a way to reconcile these sides: if you’re going to be weird, be weird in one way. But not in too many ways. I wear crazy shirts, but generic and boring pants, socks, hats, and so forth.
Think of being idiosyncratic as a risk factor. It could pay off and make you endearing and memorable and bring out your unique spirit—but it may backfire. But you (like me) need to let out your creativity. So that’s fine. Most people can handle one risk factor without collapsing. But imagine there’s one risk factor on top of another on top of another on top of another. That is bound to collapse into disaster. So, minimize your idiosyncratic risk factors to just one.
Until you’ve founded Apple, at least.
