What a Lost Duckling Can Teach Us

The Difference Between Good and Great Can Be Small

Jonathan Lim on Unsplash

Do you ever wonder whether you suffer from outsized expectations? A single moment, buttressed by a few others, highlighted for me the difference between good and great, and the difference can be very small.

Seeing a line of ducklings walk taught me this. Read on and you’ll understand, but first, I must set the stage.

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I am on a tennis court hitting with my friend Deb, and as I get ready to send some serves her way, she remarks, “I am not going to go for winners — just good solid returns.” I respond that “good” is a great way to go.

Similarly, when someone asks me, “How are you?” I frequently respond, “Good enough.” In other words, not “great” because “great” is a tall order — a high mark that is only occasionally met. “Good enough” means sufficient and sound.

The same goes for the question, “How are book sales?” There is no New York Times bestseller in my future, but occasional sales and random emails from readers keep me content enough. In other words, “good, not great.” I have learned to take satisfaction in smaller measures.

“How is Substack going?” I am sometimes asked. It’s another good, not great. I am growing subscribers (good), but the number of paying subscribers is very few. Again, I hold back on “great.”

Downsizing

The topic of downsizing our expectations has been on my mind recently. And because timing is everything, I found it amusing that two people from very different worlds recently told me that their cherished read is Jim Collins’ book “Good to Great” — a classic on how organizations can achieve greatness. The two admirers spanned the gamut, with one being a CEO and the other being a rabbi. Both aimed to serve their customers well and build a healthy and vibrant team. I understood their pick as it appeals to our subliminal urge for greatness, but as I write this, I also take issue with it.

“Greatness” is pressure-inducing, and we risk potential unintended consequences if we obsess about greatness. Should we, and can we, downsize our expectations?

My wise father-in-law weighs in

I’ve asked my wise, 90+ year-old father-in-law what he thinks about our perpetual striving for greatness. I value his voice. He was ten and living in Stuttgart when Kristallnacht occurred. My father-in-law recalls walking to school and seeing broken glass everywhere. In 1939, his family caught one of the last ships and immigrated to the United States. Achieving refuge and outlasting the Nazis was “greatness.”

This means that his perspective of what is “good” differs from most. Yet, he doesn’t go back to his childhood to explain his response. Instead, he relies on his passion for music and conducting to make his case.

He has played the bassoon for many decades and has also been a conductor of a synagogue choir. Answering my question, my father-in-law very matter-of-factly says,

“Well, my orchestra was good, not great, but if we only cared about great, then I wouldn’t be playing.”

That thought makes me wince. In other words, to those performing, good is great.

The story of a lost duckling

In the midst of my deliberations about good versus great, life intervened. By that, I mean a moment occurred that shed light. I learned that sometimes the distinction between good and great can be blurry.

My tennis-playing friend Deb and I were taking a walk by a lake when we witnessed a mother duck leading her six ducklings in a single file. All of a sudden, the last duckling fell through a storm drain and into the sewer. Deb and I could hear the chirping down below, but had no way to rescue the duckling.

Deb immediately called Public Works to report a trapped duckling. We had to be on our way, so we were unable to verify that they came. The next day, I saw our mailman, who knows a great deal more about the goings-on in the neighborhood than the rest of us, and he reported that the duckling had been rescued.

As I shared this story with my son, I cited the rescue of the duckling as a good outcome. My son countered that it was great. After all, two nice citizens (actually one) reported the incident. The town’s public services followed up to rescue the duckling, and the mailman could report it.

“But who knows if the duckling reunited with his mom?” I asked.

My son replied, “I think the point is that you cared, the city cared, and the duckling was rescued. How is that not great?”

So there you have it:

Sometimes great can masquerade as good, which makes good great.