
Build for Tomorrow
An Action Plan for Embracing Change, Adapting Fast, and Future-Proofing Your Career
Categories
Business, Nonfiction, Self Help, Finance, Biography, History, Economics, Leadership, Politics, Technology, Audiobook, Personal Development
Content Type
Book
Binding
Hardcover
Year
0
Publisher
Harmony
Language
English
ASIN
059323538X
ISBN
059323538X
ISBN13
9780593235386
File Download
PDF | EPUB
Build for Tomorrow Plot Summary
Introduction
The email arrived on a Tuesday morning, and within seconds, her heart sank. The company was restructuring, and her position would be eliminated in thirty days. After five years of dedication, she felt betrayed, anxious, and completely lost. Change had come uninvited, and now she faced an uncertain future that looked nothing like the career path she had so carefully planned. This scenario plays out countless times each day across the world. Whether it's a job loss, a technological disruption, a personal setback, or a global pandemic - change is the only constant in our modern lives. Yet while we intellectually understand this truth, emotionally we resist it at every turn. This resistance creates unnecessary suffering when what we truly need is adaptability - the ability to navigate transitions not just with resilience but with creativity and vision. Through fascinating stories of business leaders, historical figures, and everyday people who thrived during major disruptions, we discover a universal truth: those who embrace change rather than fighting it ultimately find themselves in better circumstances than before. The journey isn't always easy, but by understanding the predictable phases of change - from initial panic through adaptation to finding a new normal and eventually reaching a point where we wouldn't return to our previous state - we can transform disruption into opportunity and build something better through change.
Chapter 1: The Phases of Change: From Panic to Wouldn't Go Back
When Stacy London found herself facing a career crossroads, panic set in immediately. For ten years, she had been the stylish, witty co-host of the television show "What Not to Wear," a celebrity whose distinctive gray streak in her hair made her instantly recognizable. But as she approached fifty and television opportunities dwindled, her identity seemed to be slipping away. The fashion expert who had helped countless others reinvent themselves now faced her own reinvention crisis. "I really had to look at my own prejudices," London confessed. "I thought I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough. But also, was I ready to let go of this idea of being a personality or a public figure? That's the vanity I came up against." Her self-doubt was compounded by the physical and emotional challenges of perimenopause, leaving her feeling doubly vulnerable at a pivotal moment. In the midst of this identity crisis, an opportunity appeared: a company called State of Menopause asked her to test their products designed to help women manage menopausal symptoms. When the parent company later decided to offload the brand, they offered London the chance to buy it and become CEO - a role she had never envisioned for herself. The television personality who had spent years telling others to "let go of who you were to become who you are" now had to follow her own advice. To navigate this transition, London asked herself a profound question: "What is my kernel of truth?" In other words, what essential qualities would follow her from her television career into this new phase? She realized her personal experience with perimenopause gave her authentic understanding of her customers. And the directness and honesty that made her effective on television could serve her well as a business leader speaking truth about women's health issues that had long been taboo. This journey illustrates the four phases we all experience during significant change. First comes panic - the fear, resistance and disorientation that accompanies disruption. Then adaptation begins as we assess what resources we have and how we might repurpose them. A new normal gradually emerges as we establish different routines and expectations. Finally, many reach the "wouldn't go back" phase, where we recognize that the change, however painful initially, has ultimately led us somewhere better than before. London's willingness to separate what she does from why she does it enabled her transformation from television personality to business leader, reaching a place where she wouldn't return to her former identity even if she could.
Chapter 2: Separating What You Do from Why You Do It
Sam Calagione, founder of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery, faced a decision that would make most entrepreneurs cringe. His flagship beer, 60 Minute IPA, was becoming wildly popular - on track to represent 70-80% of all his company's sales. Distributors, bars, restaurants, and liquor stores nationwide were clamoring for more of this breakout hit. For most business owners, this would be cause for celebration and an all-in strategic push to maximize sales of their star product. Instead, Calagione did something that seemed utterly counterintuitive: he capped sales of his best-selling beer at 50% of total company revenue. He turned down major accounts, including Amtrak, when they requested the popular IPA. People were furious. A local Delaware liquor store owner approached him on the street with tears in her eyes, livid that he was withholding the product her customers kept demanding. Yet Calagione held firm, even as angry calls flooded his headquarters. Why would a successful entrepreneur deliberately limit sales of his most profitable product? Calagione understood something fundamental about both business and adaptability: true success comes from separating what you do from why you do it. What Dogfish Head did was brew beer, but why they did it was to be innovative and create distinctive craft experiences. If the company became known exclusively for one beer, customers would think of Dogfish Head as merely an IPA brand. When tastes inevitably changed, the company would be vulnerable. By deliberately constraining his hit product, Calagione forced distributors and customers to try his other beer varieties. He positioned Dogfish Head not as a one-hit wonder but as an innovative craft brewery. This long-term vision paid off handsomely. While Calagione offered disappointed customers free hats and explanations about his commitment to quality and freshness, he was actually securing his company's future. In 2019, he sold Dogfish Head for approximately $300 million to the Boston Beer Company, maker of Samuel Adams - a deal that would never have happened if he'd allowed his company to become dependent on a single product. This principle applies far beyond brewing. When Foodstirs, a sweet baked goods company co-founded by actress Sarah Michelle Gellar, faced pandemic disruption just as they were about to launch a new product line, co-founder Greg Fleishman didn't panic. "It goes back to why you start a business to begin with," he explained. "Our mission is about upgrading sweet baked goods and bringing joy to people's lives." With that clarity, pivoting to meet changing consumer needs during lockdown wasn't a betrayal of the company's identity - it was a fulfillment of their core purpose. The lesson is profound: adaptability doesn't mean abandoning who you are. It means understanding the deeper why behind what you do, which gives you flexibility to change methods, products, or directions without losing your essential purpose. By separating what you do from why you do it, you create space to evolve while maintaining the continuity that grounds you through transitions.
Chapter 3: Treating Failure as Data, Not Defeat
Chris Bosh stood on the basketball court, tears streaming down his face on national television. The eleven-time NBA All-Star had just experienced a crushing defeat in the 2011 NBA Finals. After LeBron James and Dwyane Wade joined him on the Miami Heat - creating what many expected to be an unstoppable team - they lost to the Dallas Mavericks. For Bosh, the public display of emotion was embarrassing, but what happened next revealed his extraordinary approach to setback. Rather than viewing the loss as simply painful and shameful, Bosh and his teammates analyzed what had gone wrong. "We took it as a data point," Bosh explained. They observed that during the finals, their emotional swings had been extreme - ecstatic after wins, devastated after losses. Meanwhile, the Mavericks maintained emotional steadiness throughout. This insight became valuable information that helped the Heat win the championship the following year. This approach to failure served Bosh well when he faced a far more devastating challenge. In 2016, blood clots ended his basketball career abruptly. After working with singular focus most of his life toward NBA success, every goal and aspiration was suddenly torn away. For months, he desperately sought medical treatments that might allow him to return to basketball. When those options were exhausted, he found himself completely lost. "I remember all those self-help books saying, 'Just do what you love,'" Bosh recalled. "And I was like, 'Yeah, okay, easier said than done. Now I'm in this position and I have to find what I love.'" With his identity as an athlete stripped away, he faced the daunting task of reinvention. His approach? Treat this failure not as defeat but as information that could guide his next chapter. Bosh had always enjoyed music and reading, so he began exploring those interests without knowing where they might lead. "Did it make sense at the time? No. It was very foggy. But I just continued." Eventually, these explorations led to writing a book called "Letters to a Young Athlete," sharing wisdom gained through both success and setback. His mindset throughout this transition reveals the power of treating failure as data: "I came to the realization that I have a choice: Is this going to help me, or is it going to hurt me? I choose that it is going to help me. It's going to propel me. I may be down right now, but this situation is going to propel me to where I need to go in the future, because what other option do you have?" This perspective transforms how we experience change. When we view failure as data rather than defeat, setbacks become valuable information that helps us navigate forward. Each "failure" provides insights about what works, what doesn't, and what might work better next time. The approach requires emotional courage - the willingness to look objectively at painful experiences - but it transforms the very nature of failure itself. Instead of representing an end, failure becomes merely a point along a continuing journey of growth and discovery.
Chapter 4: Building a Bridge of Familiarity
When electricity was first introduced in the 1880s, it represented perhaps the most transformative technology the world had ever seen. It would fundamentally alter human experience - extending daylight, enabling countless innovations, and literally illuminating the darkness. Yet despite its revolutionary nature, electricity didn't trigger widespread panic or resistance. While Thomas Edison and competitors like George Westinghouse and Nikola Tesla fought their "war of the currents" over technical standards, most ordinary people welcomed this radical new force into their homes without fear. Why? The answer reveals a powerful principle about navigating change. Electricity wasn't presented as some wild, unknown force that would transform the world. Instead, it was introduced as doing one familiar thing better: bringing light into people's homes. "It wasn't like light was a new experience," explains historian Jill Jonnes, author of "Empires of Light." "It's just that this light was a superior light, and far more convenient and actually less dangerous." Before electricity, people lit their homes with gas-powered lamps fed through pipes in their walls. This system was functional but hazardous - if a flame went out unnoticed, gas would continue seeping into homes, potentially causing poisoning. Electricity eliminated this danger while delivering a familiar benefit. It wasn't seen as delivering something strange and new, but as providing something old in a better way. Light was electricity's "bridge of familiarity." This pattern repeats throughout history. When cars first appeared in the early 1900s, they weren't immediately embraced. People threw rocks at them, and laws were passed to limit or ban them entirely. The auto industry initially presented cars as a radical replacement for horses, assuming everyone would immediately recognize their superiority. But people were attached to their horses, viewing them almost as family members. The industry eventually shifted strategy: instead of positioning cars as a replacement for horses, they described them as "a better horse." Advertisements compared steering wheels to reins and claimed vehicles required the same intuitive skill as directing a horse. Some manufacturers even attached decorative horse heads to the front of cars, purportedly functioning as external gas tanks. The term "horsepower" gained popularity, and manufacturers named vehicles after horses - a legacy carried on with models like Ford's Mustang and Bronco. This principle applies to personal change as well. When Lena Fleminger, owner of a Baltimore wig shop for women with hair loss, had to shift from walk-in retail to appointment-only service during the pandemic, she initially panicked. Would anyone make an appointment just to buy a wig? The answer was yes - her profits soared by 22% as she realized that her shop wasn't just a retail space but "a place to solve someone's very intimate problem," and appointments actually served that purpose better. Building a bridge of familiarity doesn't mean avoiding change. Rather, it means identifying parts of our old experience that remain consistent, and using them to reframe new opportunities. When facing a job change, career transition, or life upheaval, ask: What enduring skills, values, or purposes can serve as my bridge between past and future? The bridge doesn't diminish the newness of change, but it provides continuity that makes adaptation possible, even transformative.
Chapter 5: Reconsidering the Impossible and Working Your Next Job
Aziz Hashim faced a challenge that plagues restaurant owners everywhere: kitchens typically operate at 15-20% under capacity. "If you know anything about the retail business, it's all at the margin," explains Hashim, founder of NRD Capital, which owns chains including Ruby Tuesday and Fuzzy's Taco Shop. "If you fill up that last fifteen or twenty percent, you make a lot of money. All your fixed costs are covered already." Conventional solutions - offering discounts or creating new menu items - were imperfect. Discounts cut into already tight margins, and developing new dishes required significant investment with uncertain returns. Hashim needed a different approach, but after exploring every solution he knew, he seemed stuck. Then he forced himself to reconsider what he had previously deemed impossible. Restaurants traditionally invest millions to build locations and staff kitchens solely to prepare and sell their own food. But what if a restaurant didn't just prepare its own food? What if it also sold other brands' food? This radical idea led Hashim to create Franklin Junction, which he describes as "Match and Airbnb for restaurants." The concept connects food brands wanting to expand into new regions with existing restaurants that have excess kitchen capacity. For example, a Canadian seafood brand with no Florida presence could partner with Ruby Tuesday locations in Florida, using their underutilized kitchens to prepare food sold through delivery apps. Before the pandemic, most restaurant owners would have rejected this concept outright. But as Covid-19 devastated the industry, they became willing to reconsider what they'd previously deemed impossible. Brands like Nathan's Famous eagerly signed on, and a new business model emerged from crisis. This story illustrates a common barrier to adaptation: self-imposed limitations. We draw boundaries around possibilities, declaring certain ideas unworkable, impractical, or impossible - not based on careful analysis but on habit and assumption. Breaking through these boundaries requires what Jim McKelvey, co-founder of Square, calls finding the "but really" - the surprising truth beyond conventional wisdom. "People thought the secret to Square's success was building a card reader that plugged into the headset jack," McKelvey explains, "but really it was the other fourteen things in our innovation stack." While competitors focused narrowly on copying the card reader hardware, they missed Square's true innovation in reimagining merchant relationships, processing fees, and financial access. Beyond reconsideration lies another powerful adaptation strategy: working your next job while still in your current one. Richelle DeVoe hated her customer service role but used her spare time at work to learn about customer insights research. Although her employer failed to recognize her potential in this area, the skill became her specialty when she started her own consulting business, eventually leading to a leadership position doing exactly what she had been passionate about. The challenge in both strategies is breaking free from what we think we know. The most successful adapters don't wait for permission or guarantee. They reconsider what they once deemed impossible, and they work their next job before they have it. By doing so, they don't just survive change - they actively shape it, creating opportunities where others see only constraints.
Chapter 6: Permission to Forget
The bubonic plague of the 1300s didn't just reshape labor and economics, as devastating as those changes were. It transformed how humans think. Before the plague, medieval Europeans saw the world as inherently ordered and knowable. Intellectuals like Thomas Aquinas wrote guidebooks that claimed to contain everything worth knowing, and people believed that virtue was rewarded while sin was punished. The orderly universe made sense. Then came a pandemic that killed upwards of 60% of Europe's population. "It didn't matter who you were, how good you were, how bad you were, how rich you were, how poor you were," explains medieval scholar Andrew Rabin. "None of that mattered. The plague would still get you." This horrifying experience shattered the medieval worldview. If the universe wasn't orderly and predictable, what was it? The next generation of thinkers produced radically different works. Rather than all-knowing texts like Aquinas's "Summa Theologica," writers like Geoffrey Chaucer created works like "Canterbury Tales," portraying a complex, contradictory society with diverse customs, traditions, and motivations. The plague had given humanity permission to forget its certainties and embrace a more nuanced, less predictable understanding of existence. This principle - permission to forget - proves essential in our own adaptation journeys. Our memories themselves facilitate this process, as Duke University professor Felipe De Brigard explains: "Memory and imagination are profoundly intertwined. Many of the processes that enable us to remember the past are also processes that enable us to imagine not only possible futures, but also alternative ways in which past events could have occurred." Our brains don't record memories like video cameras. They store fragments of experience, reassembling them when we remember - often filling gaps with imagination. This malleability serves an evolutionary purpose: we need to remember enough of the past to learn from it, while remaining flexible enough to imagine new possibilities. Scientists have observed a phenomenon called "fading affect bias," where negative emotions of bad memories fade faster than positive ones. While this occasionally leads us back to harmful situations we've forgotten were harmful, it generally allows us to move forward without being paralyzed by past pain. Chris Bosh illustrated this when facing his career-ending health diagnosis. After desperately seeking medical treatments that might allow him to return to basketball, he eventually gave himself permission to forget the singular path he'd envisioned and imagine entirely new possibilities. "In writing a book about obstacles," he reflected, "I had to get over obstacles writing the book." This permission to forget extends beyond memories to identities. Stacy London had to forget her identity as a television personality to become a business leader. Sam Calagione had to forget conventional business wisdom about maximizing hit products to build a more sustainable brewery. Ryan Reynolds, who transformed from actor to marketing executive with his agency Maximum Effort, captured this principle perfectly: "I always say that you can't be good at something unless you're willing to be bad. And as I've gotten older, I've gotten way more comfortable with not having the answers." Giving ourselves permission to forget - our certainties, identities, and even our painful memories - doesn't erase our past. Rather, it liberates us to use that past selectively, drawing on what serves our future while leaving behind what constrains it. In doing so, we don't just survive change; we harness it to build something new and potentially better than what came before.
Summary
The journey through change follows predictable phases, but navigating them successfully requires skills that often feel counterintuitive. The stories of entrepreneurs like Sam Calagione deliberately limiting his best-selling beer, athletes like Chris Bosh transforming career-ending illness into a platform for helping others, and executives like Stacy London reinventing herself from television personality to business leader all reveal a common thread: adaptation isn't about abandoning who you are, but about separating what you do from why you do it. Throughout history and across industries, those who thrive amid disruption share key practices that we can all adopt. They reconsider what they once thought impossible, questioning self-imposed limitations that constrain potential solutions. They build bridges of familiarity, identifying elements of continuity that make new experiences navigable. They treat failure not as defeat but as valuable data that informs better decisions. Perhaps most importantly, they give themselves permission to forget - not just painful memories, but restrictive identities and certainties that no longer serve their future. These aren't merely survival strategies; they represent a fundamentally different relationship with change itself. Rather than bracing against disruption or merely enduring it, we can learn to build through it, creating something stronger, more authentic, and more aligned with our deepest purposes than what existed before. In this way, even our most painful transitions can become the foundation for our most meaningful growth.
Best Quote
“You have to really believe in your journey,” he said, “and you have to really work hard for your luck.” ― Jason Feifer, Build for Tomorrow: An Action Plan for Embracing Change, Adapting Fast, and Future-Proofing Your Career
Review Summary
Strengths: The review highlights the book's effective use of historical examples to illustrate how initially controversial innovations become accepted over time. It praises the book for providing a framework for personal and professional change, and for its engaging writing style, making it easy to read. The inclusion of relatable pop culture examples is also noted as a positive aspect. Additionally, the audiobook's narration by the author enhances the experience, likening it to an extended podcast episode. Weaknesses: Not explicitly mentioned. Overall Sentiment: Enthusiastic Key Takeaway: The book is recommended for its insightful exploration of societal change, offering readers a framework to better understand and adapt to change in their own lives, supported by engaging examples and a relatable authorial voice.
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Build for Tomorrow
By Jason Feifer