Twenty-six seconds later, there was a quick double-knock on the front door, and it swung open. “Sorry, I forgot my cell phone,” the Client half-shouted, as he reentered the house. The Coach was standing three feet away from the swinging door. He was holding the cell phone in his outstretched hand.

The Coach wore tan jeans and leather boots, a charcoal T-shirt, and a black watch with some heft to it. He was smiling, emphasizing the lines around his eyes. Grinning, actually. The Client took back his phone and began to apologize.

“I'm sorry,” he said. What he said next spun out of him like a fork in a garbage disposal.

“I'm sorry I left like that; I just have a lot of obligations and a lot of things that I need to do – lots of stuff on my mind that's really pulling me out of our work and this conversation. Even though when I made the appointment it seemed like a good idea, I am not really in a place where I can focus on myself right now, because I just … well… . Uh, I can't seem to … yeah. What it really is is just something that, uh, half the time I don't even know myself, but I just feel like I can't really be here right now. I hope you understand and again I am really sorry. I also have to say that I don't understand where the hell you were going with that ‘lazy’ remark and I'm just not in a headspace where I can really unpack that, so I think it's best if I just leave.”

The Coach chose his next words carefully. “There's no need to apologize. You have to do what's right for you. I support that. I'm here to support you. Whatever shape that takes is A-OK with me. I get it. Deadlines. Details. Obligations. I've been there myself, more than once. But before you go, why don't we just drink one glass of tea? One glass. Let's relax together, for a minute. And if you don't like the tea, or the conversation, then we can reschedule or whatever we need to do. No obligations. No pressure. It's just a conversation, right?

“And you never have to apologize,” the Coach continued, hoping that those words landed. He was sharing more than just a courtesy. “Ever. Here, there are no mistakes. Only choices. And whatever they are, I respect your choices. You wanna sit back down?” he asked. “The tea is pretty good.”

The men walked back out to the patio. They sat in silence.

The Client noticed a row of Italian cypress trees, standing like 40-foot-tall soldiers, waiting for battle. Perched in the blue sky, white cirrus clouds floated above the pointed green trees like a bunch of lazy hippies. Lucky bastards.

He turned to the Coach. “Nothing is easy for me,” he said, apropos of nothing and yet somehow covering everything.

He continued, “Hard work is all I've known. If I'm lazy, how can I move forward in my life and in my career and … and … well, how is being lazy going to help?”

“People think of lazy as an activity, like eating potato chips and watching Netflix. That's ‘lazy,’” the Coach said, uncrossing his legs. “And you're right – as an activity, ‘lazy’ is a horrible place if you want to get anything done. Other than binge-watching a show or growing your waistline, being lazy seems like a strategy for getting nothing done. We all know that being lazy is the opposite of being productive!”

Deep insight, the Client thought to himself.

“But as an attitude, lazy is actually brilliant. Consider your experience of being lazy on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Have you ever experienced a lazy Sunday afternoon?”

He had. The Client loved lazy Sunday afternoons. He began to share some memories of time apart from obligations, work worries, and schedules. He easily recalled times when he could do whatever he wanted; it was a rare treasure. Play with his kids, work on a project around the house that really mattered – the Client had several stories to share of time spent by himself, with his family, just exploring the outdoors sometimes. He confessed that he even enjoyed potato chips and the occasional Netflix binge, which made both men laugh.

“Me too! But wasn't that what made lazy Sunday afternoons so fantastic?” the Coach said, agreeing with him. “You got to do exactly what you wanted to do? You never wasted time doing something you didn't want, unless you wanted to waste time, and then the time-wasting thing just kind of turned from a label into life.”

The Client chimed in, “And I lived it, and loved it, and all was well with the world.” Were both men smiling?

“But you still had work on Monday, right?” the Coach interjected into the Sunday memory excursion. “Why didn't you spend your Sunday worrying about the week ahead?”

“Because that's not how a lazy Sunday works,” the Client told him straightaway. “You stay in Sunday, you stay with the activity (or lack of it) and just enjoy the moment. Why would I think about the week ahead when I'm enjoying a lazy Sunday?”

“That's the kind of ‘lazy’ I'm talking about,” the Coach said. “You don't waste time or energy on a lazy Sunday. Even if it looks like you're wasting time, you're actually not really wasting anything; you're just going through a kind of unconscious discovery of whatever it is you want to do next. Am I right?”

The Client took a healthy sip of his iced tea. He realized he hadn't had anything to drink since Waco. The Coach was telling the truth: this was good tea. He drained half the glass.

“Let's talk about being lazy in a new way – in a way that's super-kind to yourself,” the Coach continued. “When you want to do something, what if you did it with a complete economy of action? Where you took only the actions that would maximize your results? Because, if you have a lazy attitude, you will always find the way to put in the least amount of effort to get the maximum impact.”

The Client was interested in impact. He knew all about putting in effort. Hard work was the key to creating results, a fact that had been drilled into his head by well-intentioned teachers, family members, and that coach-manager person he had met with a few years back. Life was meant to be difficult. Even when it wasn't, it still was. That was the way he was wired. Or so he thought.

Until today.

“Lazy as an action plan means doing nothing. But lazy as an attitude is more like a lazy Sunday afternoon,” the Coach explained. “On a lazy Sunday afternoon, you're not going to do anything that you don't want to do. And if you choose to do something, like working on your car, painting a room, hiking with your kids, or just making a spectacular sandwich – whatever it is that you like to do – you're not going to waste any extra energy. You're ‘actively lazy.’” He leaned in for emphasis. “Actively lazy means that you are keenly invested in what you are doing and making sure that you're not wasting your time or your energy on anything that doesn't make you really happy. Unless, of course, you want to waste some time on something. Which is still part of the attitude – your state of mind – a lazy Sunday afternoon. There's nothing you can do that is a mistake, on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Because you are not on some artificial schedule, if you're really enjoying your day.

“Here look at this,” the Coach said, handing the Client a small 3x5-inch card that was hidden underneath a black leather portfolio on the nearby coffee table. The Client read the printed words out loud, a quote from Bill Gates.

The Client sat back in his chair, as deep and as far as he could. The Coach took a sip of iced tea. He looked out at the trees to make sure they were still growing. Made sure no new buildings had been added to the distant skyline. Counted the clouds.

“So, that's it?” the Client asked. “Just be lazy, or actively lazy, and everything gets easier?”

The Coach looked out at the great outdoors. “Does it look like life has some kind of shortcut that you just haven't figured out yet?” He smiled as he spoke. There was kindness in his voice, even as the Client knew he was being teased. There was no malice or judgment. Both men knew there were no shortcuts. “I'll tell you a secret,” the Coach said, leaning toward the Client and putting his hand up to emphasize the whisper. “Anything can be made easier. Anything. Maybe not easy, but easier.

“You've already discovered the choice that's easiest: walking away. Doing nothing. Embracing the status quo and giving it a big fat kiss,” he said, laughing. “But easiest isn't necessarily effective, is it? I mean, if we bail out on the conversation, or the opportunity, or the relationship, how can we ever know where it will go? Not exploring is the easiest thing. But how will that help you – or anyone – to grow? To see things in a new way? I mean, discovery: that's what we're here to do, right? Regrets and missed opportunities aren't easier. Ever.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Some things can never be made ‘easy.’ Fixing a rocket while it's flying through space, for example: not easy. Performing a liver transplant: not easy. Working in a business where competition is fierce, customers are fickle, and technology doesn't always cooperate: not easy.”

“So basically, every business?” the Client interjected. He was starting to remember why he came to visit this guy.

“And every relationship.” The Coach chuckled. “But we can go about our understanding and our business, our relationships and basically every aspect of our lives in a way that's easier. Easier is where life's better, where we find freedom. Clarity. Confidence. It's where we don't struggle and suffer and wish and try to manage the whole entire world. We can perform and produce and connect and just live, in a way that's easier.”

“What if everything could be easier,” the Client said, neither a statement nor a question.

“What if life could feel like a lazy Sunday afternoon?” the Coach added. “Not because you tell yourself some lie and decide to hallucinate while you're awake, but because you understand where things can actually get easier. And if you're wondering what things I'm talking about, I mean everything.”

“I know this much is true,” the Coach continued, shifting in the overstuffed patio chair. “I know exactly how many ways there are to make things easier. And so do you.”

A bold statement, the Client thought to himself.

The Coach looked over at him. “You know exactly how many ways there are to make anything easier. Easier, in every aspect of your life.”

“Everything you said makes sense except the part where I already know how many ways there are to make things easier,” the Client admitted. “Because I don't.”

“Well, the answer is the same as the number of ways to win a game,” the Coach said. “A game of football, tennis, Parcheesi … you name it. The answer is also the same as the number of ways to paint a painting.” The Coach took another sip of tea. He waited.

“The number of ways to win … ?” The Client's mind flashed on a soccer game – football for the Manchester United fans in his life – while trying to figure out how a painter would create a painting. “Games are complex. Seems like a painting is really a matter of choice or interpretation,” he said after a moment.

“And not all paintings – or painters – are created equal,” the Coach returned, adding “or equally.”

In the Client's mind, it seemed like there was only one way to win – the way that worked. And the way to paint a painting? The one way that made sense to the artist, he guessed. Surely there was more than one way to paint a painting. He had tried his hand at painting once. Flashing back to soccer games, 90 minutes on the pitch left lots of room for choices and options and corner kicks and yellow cards and he was not going to Ted Lasso this, so how the hell could he figure it out, really?

“I … I don't know,” I said.

“You're exactly right,” the Coach said. “Because we can never know all of the ways to win in a game. Or all the ways to paint a painting. Because the number of ways to win, the number of ways to create a masterpiece, and the number of ways to make things easier is always infinite.”

The Coach refilled both glasses from the silver pitcher on the side table nearest him.

Infinite? And unknown? Even with a refill, the Client was still thirsty.

“Our conversation centers on the unknown. A part of that exploration is bringing what you already know into clear view. Here's what I've seen, working with thousands of clients: if I say something, but you don't see it, it doesn't exist. Right? Even if you think I've achieved ‘enchanted guru’ status in your eyes – which I hope you don't, but whatever – you're always going to fall back into your own viewpoint to evaluate everything I share. As well you must; we all see things through our own eyes.”

“I'm going to share things with you that come from my own experience, my education, my understanding of science and business and all kinds of things. But whose experience will you trust the most? The answer is always your own.”

“So don't believe anything that I say,” the Coach said flatly. “Trust nothing. Evaluate everything. Walk out if it sucks and feel good about it. You already know how to go with your gut. If what we're doing doesn't serve you, let's find what does. Remember: you are always the Client.

“Service is here,” he said, swiveling his head with hands outstretched to take in the entire patio. “A service designed to take care of you. You have someone in your corner, right now,” he waved and smiled, like a child saying hi to the clowns at the circus. An oversized, toothy grin matched the overenthusiastic wave. The Client chuckled.

“Someone is here to help you on your journey, if you will allow it. With your permission, we will look in the direction of new possibilities. Not in the direction of my experience” the Coach said, “but your own.”

Shifting to a more serious tone, he explained, “I'm glad you came back. I'm glad you're here.”

The Coach saw something of himself in the Client. Which is to say that the Coach saw something of himself inside each of his clients. The two men were different in age, education, and life experience. Yet the Coach saw something that connected them. The Client wanted to figure things out. The Coach knew he wouldn't have to.

“Run our conversation through this three-word filter,” he said, revealing another card that was on the coffee table, hidden underneath a legal notepad and some markers. The Coach pointed at the card for emphasis.

The three words were written in red:

“We're going to look into the unknown, so we can see new possibilities. That's where possibilities live, right? Opportunities, too. Innovation and new ideas always come from the unknown. Just like all the ways to win, I'm not sure what you might see for yourself. My job is to point, to share, to question. To help you to play your game, your way. And to assist you to see what's been there all along. Like the South Pole.”

“The South Pole?” the Client asked.

“Have you ever heard of Robert Falcon Scott?” the Coach replied. The Client shook his head.

“He was a British explorer. He led a team to discover the exact location of the South Pole. Unfortunately, a Norwegian dude by the name of Roald Amundsen beat him to it. The year was 1911, and that was when Amundsen discovered the South Pole.

“Except that's not true,” the Coach said, pausing. “The South Pole was always there. Amundsen didn't discover it. He was just the first to reach it.

“Reach into your experience, as we continue our meetings,” he added. “Not your past work experience, or your education, but the place where your experience – the way you relate to the people and circumstances around you – is coming from. That experience of a lazy Sunday afternoon, for example. That place could be a useful reminder of what's possible. After all, for some people, work feels like play – not the other way around. You know what I'm saying?”

“One thing that always exists, no matter what we say or what happens to you or where you go or who you meet: you always have a choice. And the choice is always up to you. You can choose to grind it out, relying on force of will and navigating your DISC profile¹ or whatever else looks like it makes sense. Or you can move in a way that's easier. And I hope you will. But the choice is really up to you. Always up to you,” he said, nodding at the Client.

“We work together to reveal what can help you most. Because, when things are revealed, you act from a place of understanding, not expectation. From a place of insight, not just knowledge,” he said. The Coach stood up, touched a hidden light switch on a support beam, and activated the ceiling fans above the two men. “And when you understand what's really available to you, everything gets easier.”

“But that still doesn't always mean that I will do it, even when I see it,” the Client confessed. “I can think of countless times in my experience that I saw a better way, and I didn't seize it.”

Sitting back down, the Coach said, “I hear you. Me, too. But there's an easier way. In almost every aspect of life, things can always be easier. We both know it. There is a way to access new understanding and then to take action on it and that way is always and forevermore easier – if we allow it to be. Do you hear that?”

The Client nodded.

“How about … how about we look at fifty ways to make things easier? Do you think that would help? You decide what those things are – what topics matter to you. We'll find fifty ways to find ease and clarity and even ‘active laziness’ inside every aspect of your life. What do you say?”

“Fifty ways?” the Client asked. “How about sixty?”

If the number of ways to win really was infinite, the Client reasoned, then 60 different aspects of infinity would be an easy target to hit. He came to see that there could easily be 60 ways to paint a painting, not just one. He remembered that some artists had painted over their original artwork, and he shared that with the Coach. Some had probably thrown out the canvas entirely and started over – resetting an infinite capacity. And weren't colors infinite as well? Possibilities entered the conversation.

“Okay, sixty it is,” the Coach said.

The Client asked, “Are you sure you have enough tea?”

“Could there be sixty ways to make my life easier?” the Client wondered to himself. Then, out loud, he asked, “How would I know how to take action?” He was asking the Coach and the clouds and the patio furniture. “How can I get out of my own way?”

“The first step: be lazy. Decide that you are going to explore how life could be like a lazy Sunday afternoon. Start there,” the Coach said.

The Client sat back in his chair, as the Coach added, “Now we have fifty-nine to go.”