This week, a reel appeared on my For You Page (FYP) on Instagram. In it, Gary Vynerchuk answered an audience member’s question about how to know if the person you’re hiring is actually good versus how they appear on an application. His response: “I’ve got really good hiring advice: learn to fire fast.” 

Vynerchyck explains that he has hired people based on their resume and several excellent interviews, only to find the person failed to live up to expectations. Instead of continuing to grasp onto hope for change or that expectations will be realized, he learned to accept he misjudged the candidate, fire them, and move on. Keeping a person who is a bad fit just because you don’t want to dismiss someone for emotional reasons only causes harm to the team and negatively impacts the work environment for all.

I know nothing about Gary Vynerchuk or why he appeared in my FYP feed. I follow Adam Grant, so the algorithms assumed I liked advice from business people or motivational speakers who cater to business. If you don’t know Adam Grant, check out his books; Think Again is particularly good. Vaynerchuk’s website describes him as a “serial entrepreneur.” Like many successful American businessmen, he has added a podcast, public speaking, and “internet personality” to his other offerings.

I don’t find myself in a position to hire or fire much, but Vynerchuk’s words hit me as good advice for life on the whole. We need to be quick to try new things and even quicker to let them go when they fail.

Once, when a church search committee interviewed me for an open position, one member said, “You’re just not afraid at all to try new things, are you.?” From his smirk and amused tone I couldn’t tell if he meant to compliment, patronize, insult, or challenge me. I don’t recall my answer as much as my surprise at the question. I wondered how resistant the community would be to change and/or innovation.

I’ll admit I’ll try almost anything once – granted, my enthusiasm to do so wanes the older I get. Obviously, there are limitations, such as mind-altering drugs and activities that put myself or others at risk. But when it comes to my work, living life fully, having fun with friends and family, or tasting the world, I’m generally game.

I fail, however, to let the experience go as quickly. The ego does not take kindly to failure, and changing one’s mind too often runs close enough to failing that we would rather not. Doggedly, we stick to our guns, rationalizing why we chose to do whatever it was. Once we pick up a thing, however impulsive the decision is, we resist setting it back down for fear of anyone perceiving us as having failed.

“Learn to fire fast.” Imagine if we stepped into a new endeavor knowing we could stop at any moment? Letting it go could be as simple as opening our hands, allowing the wind or gravity to take it, and no guilt or shame would follow. I have never been able to say, “Well, that didn’t work out as I had planned,” and let that be my last thought about it. No, I need at least 24 hours to ruminate on the many ways I calculated incorrectly, the steps I took and shouldn’t have, the ones I didn’t take that likely would have changed the outcome, etc. Truthfully, 24 hours would be a fast past of recovery for me. Decisions I made as far back as childhood come to haunt my mind in the oddest of times.

I like this idea of learning to recognize when I made a wrong decision and things didn’t turn out as expected, or maybe admit that circumstances change more quickly than anticipated – no harm, no foul, no shame or embarrassment. I tried something, it didn’t work; I’ll take from it what I will, then move on to the next.

“Fire fast” also applies to advice. Undoubtedly, there have been times when I listened to advice but, upon finding it poor, failed to dump it from my catalog of guidance from others. Loyalty to that person prevented me from purging it from my mind as quickly as I should have. I can fire the advice fast without dismissing the person from my advice. By separating the person from the guidance, I can ditch the faulty counsel while valuing the counselor’s presence in my life. Dump the teaching, keep the teacher. Fire fast, but hold onto what matters. Those who offer assistance are also doing the best they can and won’t bat 1000, even on their best of days.

We can consider this concept another way: learn to be faster and better at purging what does not serve us. I let emotions and fears get in the way of releasing influences in my life that no longer add value to my life or, worse, detract from it. What if I appear ungrateful? What if I let advice go and then regret not taking it? What if I hurt the advisor’s feelings when later they ask how things turned out? What if the person thinks I no longer care for them when I lay to rest an idea, a rule of life, a guiding principle that they gifted me with the best of intentions? What if people know I failed? What if people realize I’m a fraud because I chose poorly?

Fire fast reinforces the reality that being uncomfortable temporarily to right our direction far surpasses the long-term detriment of continuing on a path that leads us away from our goals. How often have you been part of a system or organization that keeps someone in a position despite their incompetency in the name of compassion or kindness but at the increasing expense of the whole? Or participated in a program anchored in an ideology that no longer serves its mission in the present time? 

Fire fast. I’m slow to change and am a creature of habit. I feel loyalty to people profoundly and hold tight to personal creeds and tenets. In doing so, I have failed to embrace renewal and new growth that could refresh my soul and inspire my imagination. I invite you to consider experimenting with firing fast with me. I guarantee we will feel moments of regret and fear, but I wager that liveliness and awakening will follow.