I was cleaning out my inbox and stumbled across an email I’m glad I didn’t delete. It came courtesy of entrepreneur and ADHD expert Peter Shankman. And in the message, Peter shared how he’d recently been invited to join a tight-knit community. Seems pretty harmless, right? Maybe even kind. But there was one glaring problem — the invitation was for an all-women’s group. And Peter — as his name implies — is not a woman.

I sent a message to the man I admire most in the coaching space here in Barcelona requesting a chance to meet. “Great message!” he replied later that night. “How’s Friday for breakfast?” A few days later, after spending an hour together, I stood up from the table, shook his hand, thanked him for his time, and then proceeded to ask the first person I came across on the street to give me a swift kick in the ass.

I sat down on my couch, switched my phone to selfie mode, and hit record. Then I started answering the dreaded interview question: “Tell me about yourself.” After what felt like the most awkward four minutes of all time, I played back the recording. It was painful to watch. My body was stiff and my eyes darted all over the place. I clenched up in some parts, and rambled on in others.

“I’ve arrived!” the young Hungarian announced to an audience of none. The year was 1921. The place was San Francisco. He’d been traveling for days, but instead of looking for a place to rest, the man had one last thing to do. “Excuse me ma’am!” he politely said to an elderly woman. “Would you be so kind as to tell me which building houses the city press?” “You can’t miss it!

In 1938, researchers at Harvard University set out to identify the key factors that most contributed to leading long and happy lives. As the study has evolved and expanded to include individuals from more diverse backgrounds, the findings over the years have remained the same: more than money, fame, IQ, or even genes, close relationships and community involvement are the key indicators in keeping people both happy and healthy throughout their lives.

“What the hell am I doing here?” I thought to myself. “This place isn’t for me!” Cigarette packs, coffee cups, and manilla folders were everywhere. I felt like I’d just walked into the set of a bad sales movie. The year was 2003. The place was Baltimore. The people who weren’t screaming into their phones were yelling at each other about how many deals they had going. Just as I began to think about making a run for the back door, the corporate trainer stuck his head outside the conference room and shouted, “We’re in here, Mike!

One day, four years ago, I met a man who kickstarted my writing career and changed the direction of my life forever. My family and I were walking to a beach in Menorca, Spain, when I saw an American couple struggling to carry their things with their two young kids in their arms. After offering to take one of their bags, our families spent the afternoon together. Since I’d been to the island a few times before to visit my wife’s sister, later that night I sent the man the ultimate guide for how to maximize their week.

Networking from home has become a seriously valuable skill About a month into the pandemic, I received a flurry of emails that boiled down to this: Half of my work contracts were being cut. At first, I was frantic. But quickly, I was able to replace the lost contracts with new ones. How? I owe it all to a practice I’ve been doing for the last three years. Every week, no matter what I have going on, I reach out to one new person who is doing something I think is cool and request a chance to talk to them on the phone.

Gave yourself a home haircut? Started drinking more water? Fixed the creaky garage door? No life update is too mundane. Two of my childhood friends and I maintain an email thread that’s both active and aggressively boring. In one recent message, my buddy Josh told us about the progress he’s made on his deck; in response, I informed the group that my son Luc threw a Lego at my eye. Over the past several months, we’ve briefed each other on the family board games we played, the meals we’ve consumed, and the loads of laundry we’ve ignored.

Don’t just watch speeches, dissect them Growing up with a severe speech impediment and social anxiety, I was terrified of meeting new people. That changed, however, when at the age of 23 I took a sales job to overcome this fear. At the time I didn’t have any intention of staying in the job for long. My plan was to simply get in front of as many people as I could in the short-term to learn how to better connect with people in the future.

“You’d have more fun if you spoke to more people.” My fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Martin, was a grump. Despite his serious demeanor, and his yelling at me for not understanding advanced calculus, he still holds a special place in my heart. This isn’t because of something he did, but rather because of something he didn’t do. Growing up, like some other kids whose best friend is their imagination, I got picked on a lot.

“You feel the pain of being voiceless” It took only seven minutes and twenty-five seconds of listening to Bruce Springsteen and Barack Obama’s new podcast, “Renegades: Born in the USA,” for the goosebumps to kick in. The two were reminiscing about the first few times they met and Barack touched upon Bruce’s shyness to which The Boss replied: “I don’t know if I’d say most people in my business, but shyness is not unusual.

In old family photos, I’m easy to spot: I’m either hiding behind a soccer ball or latched tightly onto my mom or dad. I was terrified of meeting new people as a kid. Throw in the fact I stuttered, had coke-bottle glasses (think Ralphy from The Christmas Story except with paralyzing acne), moved every year or two for my dad’s job, and I can’t remember a day when I didn’t have to wipe the sweat off my hands before shaking someone else’s.

Along with a few other tips to make video less painful I clicked on the Zoom invitation and was taken to a black screen. Moments later, I heard a voice: “Michael, what’s up?” For the next 30 minutes, my friend, Austin Belcak, and I talked in darkness about life and career advice. Prior to wrapping up the call, I asked him about not including the video option. “It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing.

Staring at the clock, I did the math. If the classmate standing in front of the room would just keep speaking beyond his 10-minute time limit, I wouldn’t have to give my presentation in front of my 11th-grade history class. He was already at the eight-minute mark. Come on, man, I pleaded in my head, my palms sweating. Don’t stop talking. I watched the seconds hand make another round. Nine minutes.

As a kid, I was told time and time again that the fastest way to make a dent in the world was by leaving each person better than you found them. This sounded great to me on paper. There were just two problems: First, I had a severe speech impediment. Second, the idea of meeting new people terrified me. This meant you had someone who not only was afraid to meet new people but also wasn’t very good at it.

Act more confident. Push past your comfort zone. Stand like an alpha. I grew up a shy introvert with a severe speech impediment, bombarded by such suggestions. Honestly, I’ve tried them all. I’ve also come to the conclusion that it’s a lot easier, and more effective, to be kind than to try to always act confident. Over the past 18 years, I’ve worked in various “extrovert” sectors, such as sales and communication, and I’ve managed to consistently excel.

Kindness is how you change the world. Four years ago, I walked into a bar, and shook hands for the first time with someone I had greatly admired from afar. When I thought of my career aspirations, and the type of person I wanted to become, this man checked every box: serial entrepreneur, leadership and communication teacher, blog and Youtube channel with a six digit fanbase. More importantly, in our shared home of Barcelona, he had a reputation for being as kind as he was clever.

World domination isn’t something I spend a great deal of time thinking about as I have a hard enough time trying to keep up with my two kids. But recently, Greg Isenberg, growth advisor for TikTok US, broke Twitter with a thread about the lessons he’d learned about life, entrepreneurship, and business by interviewing five billionaires in as many days. As a whole, Greg’s takeaways were fun to read, but there was one lesson in particular that stood out for the simple fact it got a rise out of some people —

Immerse yourself in the land of the opposite “This may sound a bit weird,” said one of the men in attendance for a seminar I was giving. “But I gotta know — with your blonde hair and green eyes, Spanish women love you, right?” In a flash, my normally pale face turned into a bright red tomato. Before I could say no, a woman from the back of the room beat me to it — “Actually, most of my friends and I prefer the typical tall, dark, and handsome stereotype!