So, more commonly and also more understandably, the question “What do you really want?” arises when one is faced with small and large choices. Should you finish your homework or go out with your friends? Should you go to university or venture out to discover the world? Do you study what you truly want, or do you choose a different path for different reasons? What do you order in the restaurant? Should you buy a new car now or should you wait? Do you take your family on a skiing holiday or to the Caribbean instead? Do you take a tempting project and risk burnout and stress? Or does saying “no” serve your needs much better? Should you leave professional sports now or go for another four-year Olympic cycle? Do you take your company public or not? Should you get a second mortgage? Do you endure another couple of years for a high salary under a boss who terrorizes you? Or do you close the door and walk out? Should you bring another child into the world? The choices go on ad infinitum.
This most important question, therefore, is unfortunately not self-evident. One of my seminar attendees made this remark in his feedback questionnaire: “This is the first time in my life I have ever taken three days to think only about myself.” This man had a wife, two kids, a dog, a cat, a full-time job, a mortgage, and hundreds of other obligations. Just like many of us. Sure, he had batted around the superficial idea of what he wanted before (cars, second homes, vacations, etc.), and he had surely briefly considered the meaning of life, but he had never sat down in a quiet room and asked himself: Just what is it that I really want?
For me, this question helps most in a practical way in goalsetting and choosing where to focus. When I’m doing my annual plans, if I ask myself what it is I really want, then I have to keep in mind two things: what results, projects, and activities I consider important, and how I hope to experience them. What activities and achievements help me to preserve that which brings me closer to what I desire in my long-term plans? And what will be the mix of stress, fun, pleasure, and peace? What kind of a year will this be? A year of learning? A year of real effort? A year of taking it easy? Should I focus on work? Being with family? Do I want a year of change or one of stability?
What we’re supposed to want
Often, we choose the things we’re supposed to want. When’s the last time you took a promotion because you just don’t turn down a promotion, or because it’s the next logical step in a career? But is a career what you really want? Or is a career something you’re supposed to want?
Many people are also influenced by odd factors when making decisions about education and vocation. During Soviet times, many chose a major of food processing technology or public catering management in the local technical university. At the time, it almost served as a “ticket” to work as a manager in a restaurant or a grocery store. I don’t believe most who studied catering felt an inner urge to seek that profession, but during those strange times it was both prestigious and useful. (Many food products were in real shortage and never made it to the store shelves. Instead they were distributed to friends and family members of the folks in charge.)
A current version of that might be Americans studying in law schools. There’s nothing wrong with earning a law degree. But did they want to become lawyers as kids? Really? And not bus drivers or firemen? Then why did they end up choosing law school? Because it sounded promising, and because they felt like they needed to do something?
After high school, I too made educational choices in a similar way. I had no clue as to what to study. Looking back, I often refer to the 18-year-old Peep Vain as a young man without any real interests. Considering my parents’ background and my own social circles, going to college was an obvious choice. I did not care much to leave home for another town. Since my father was a physicist and my whole family were college graduates, I started to investigate similar options. Radio engineering was one of the most prestigious paths for engineering majors, and there were many more applicants than openings. And so, in 1986, I took the entrance exams and became a student in the department of radio engineering. Lack of thought and self-knowledge, combined with convenience, led me to a decision that had nothing to do with my real wants, my nature and needs. Years later I asked a friend whether the other guys ever wondered what I was doing in radio engineering. Of course they did, replied the friend. Why didn’t you say something? I inquired. It would have been too awkward, was the reply. Luckily, I only stayed there for two semesters. With all due respect to engineers, I really would have not wanted to be one.
Did I really want a PhD?
For me, the issue of figuring out what I really wanted presented itself in a rather serious and meaningful way several years ago. I thought I wanted to study psychology and maybe get a PhD. Being an introspective guy, I asked myself: Peep, do you really want a PhD? Hell yes, came the answer, I wanted that PhD. I thought of how fancy and profound I would look with those three letters appearing behind my name on the cover of this book or next to my smiling face on my CDs. Peep Vain, PhD. Of course, I had no clue what it meant to get a PhD. I didn’t even know how long it took. I knew you had to do research. Write a paper. How hard could it be? And of course I was not thinking of just any PhD. I was thinking of a PhD from one of the best universities in the world. If I were to do it, I might as well do it big time.
The truth is, I wasn’t even sure what kind of psychology I wanted to study. I was pretty sure I wanted to go back to school. But the idea of a full-blown graduate program felt kind of daunting. Also, I honestly could not imagine myself being away from my family and business for even a year. And I was not so naive to think that a PhD takes only a year.
In addition to that (and luckily for me), the gods presented a barrier that slowed me down and made me think even more: a top-notch education abroad costs a small fortune. Since money is something I tend to think about, I started to examine my desire in an economic context. The idea of paying tens of thousands of euros each year (not to mention the opportunity cost of not working) to get a PhD forced me to do some investigation. What is the PhD actually all about? What kind of effort does it involve? Must I be present all the time? Does a top school necessarily make sense for me? Do I even care about psychology?
My friend, a leading psychotherapist in Estonia (a PhD, by the way), had come to know a gentleman by the name of Manfred Kets de Vries. Being one of the very few in the world who successfully merges the psychoanalytic approach with business and leadership, he was also a respected professor at INSEAD in France and one of the most prolific writers in his field in the world.
Professor Kets de Vries has a PhD and many other letters after his name. And I always want to meet, get to know and have a meaningful conversation with people who are the most successful in my field. So who better to ask than him?
Under the pretense of me getting a PhD, my friend called him. And, surprise, surprise, the professor did not say, “Tell Peep to pick up a few beers and come right on over to talk to me.” He suggested that I attend his INSEAD Executive Masters psychology program called Consulting and Coaching for Change.
My ego was a little bit hurt that Professor Manfred F. R. Kets de Vries, PhD, was not immediately available to receive Peep Vain, B.Sc., for a heart-to-heart discussion about the benefits of higher education. Also, his program cost a small fortune and took a year and half to complete. My immediate reaction was, of course, to say forget about it. I just wanted to have a conversation.
But then, with my ego deflated a little bit, I started to read about his program. It wasn’t a PhD, but it might be a step toward one, if that’s what I really wanted. And it was in fact really interesting. And it could serve as way to determine how much I actually would enjoy being in an academic environment again.
One requirement to be considered for admission was an on-site interview. With lots of curiosity but no real serious intent, I flew to Fontainebleau, France. To my surprise, I ended up