The Storied Life of a Successful Plinko Chip
Imagine a game of Plinko — the kind where you drop a chip down a board of pegs, and it bounces unpredictably to the winning slot. Now imagine the chip is alive — and gets interviewed after the game.
It might say, “Yeah, I was feeling really good at the start. I got off course a couple of times, but I focused at the end and pulled through,” taking personal credit for each random bounce. Then it goes on a press tour, writes a book called My Life as a Plinko Chip: How I Succeeded and How You Can Too, and credits its upbringing, mentors and work ethic for paving the road to success. Other chips want to mimic the journey, so they buy the book, and it becomes a bestseller.
It's a compelling story of how the Plinko chip made all the right moves — but the story was retrofitted to convert hindsight into foresight.
Of course, this is a metaphor for the stories we tell about successful people. Yes, there are truly talented, intelligent individuals whose abilities lead to real achievements. But we often attribute every turning point along the way to deliberate choices by a single person. And if not that person, then some external force — luck, fate, or a deity — guiding and blessing them over all the others.
It's hard to isolate the outcome of any single event when so many variables are in play. I’m not trying to diminish anyone’s success — this is more for the Plinko chips that landed in lower slots and blame themselves for not being like the “winners.” Often, success has more to do with randomness than we admit. And the good news? The same is true for so-called “failures.”
The downside is, when we’re successful, we want to believe our story and take the lion’s share of the credit — and giving too much to chance can feel like it steals the magic. But at the same time, it frees us from the burden of failure. And we’re more likely to keep trying, gaining insight with every bounce.
We also tend to give too much credit — or blame — to some external force, as if it’s blessing or cursing us, or handing us vague riddles to solve. “I should’ve bounced off that peg, not the one I hit. No wonder my life’s a mess — I’m being punished.” Or the reverse: “If I hadn’t done that one thing at just the right time, I would’ve missed the opportunity. Clearly, something bigger was guiding me.”
If we believe everything happens for a reason, we imply someone — or something — is in charge, and we’re not. Our success then depends on decoding their mysterious plan. But even if there were an external force, we’d likely misinterpret its intentions. And if there isn’t, we’re chasing our own internal thoughts thinking they’re coming from somewhere else. But, if we see the world as impartial cause and effect, we can observe, adapt, and learn.
Instead of saying “good luck,” I’d rather say: “good learning.”
That’s not to say you can’t craft a narrative in hindsight — by all means, do. Just remember: you’re the author — and your fate isn't up to fate. It's up to you.