In June 2017, I bought a pair of AirPods.
People thought I was out of my mind. They'd just come out, they looked ridiculous, and they cost just under $200. Friends gave me grief. Family gave me grief. The general consensus was that spending that much on headphones was a waste of money.
I didn't see it that way.
I bought them because I knew I'd listen to audiobooks with them. I'd tried with other headphones. Too bulky, too tangled, too easy to leave in a drawer. These I'd wear. And I had a list of over 50 books I wanted to read.
That $200 purchase turned into hundreds of hours of learning. The knowledge from that period of my life is worth far more than $200. I can't put a number on it. But I know it shaped how I think about building a career, making decisions, and creating opportunities.
The sticker price problem
People look at the cost of something and make their judgment there. They don't think about what comes out the other side.
I've mentioned what I spent on golf coaching last year and gotten the same look you give someone who just said something deeply strange. Same reaction when I bring up a good financial advisor, a therapist, a personal trainer. The list goes on.
There's a reflexive skepticism people have toward spending money on themselves. I don't fully understand it. The math usually works out. A good financial advisor pays for themselves. A good coach makes you better at something you care about. A therapist helps you function like a human.
The price is visible. The return is not. So people skip it.
Content works the same way
Writing in public has a sticker price too. It costs time, effort, and the discomfort of sharing your thinking before it feels ready. You pay all of that up front, every post.
The return comes later, and you rarely see it building. Most posts don’t do much. But people are watching. Over months and years, they form a picture of how you think, what you’re good at, and what working with you might look like.
For me, the return showed up in August 2023. I got laid off. Instead of panicking, I posted an honest update on LinkedIn about what had happened and where things stood.
Within 4 weeks, I had more inbound leads than cold outreach had ever generated for me. One post didn’t do that. Years of showing up before it did.
4 weeks after the layoff, I wrote: "It has been rewarding to see how many leads have come out of my network relative to the effort I put into building my network over the past couple years. The ROI on time spent writing and publishing is significant."
Six months later, I had worked with 7 clients. Every single one came from a relationship I'd built before I ever needed it.