Are You a Quitter?

I woke up to a Focus Five email from Dave Stachowiak. His message resonated, particularly this one: Know When to Quit.

I want you to take this in. It's important.

In the podcast episode, How to Quit Bad Stuff Faster, Dave talks with Annie Duke, a former professional poker player, about the importance of knowing when to let go and change course.

It got me thinking.

According to Annie Duke, there's a striking difference between professional and amateur poker players:

• Professionals: Fold 75–85% of starting hands.
• Amateurs: Fold less than 50% of starting hands.

The distinction is that professionals recognize sooner when the odds don't justify continuing. Amateurs are more likely to stay in, hoping things will improve.

Hope is not a strategy.

How often do we confuse persistence with progress, only to realize later that it was avoidance?

"Don't be a quitter."

We've heard it since childhood. Perseverance, loyalty, and dedication are qualities we admire. Somewhere along the way, we began treating persistence as a virtue, regardless of the outcome.

We keep going because stopping feels like failure. We've invested too much and changing direction might suggest we were wrong (God forbid).

What began as a strategic decision has become personal.

This is where our thinking gets compromised. So how do we avoid this?

Annie suggests establishing “kill criteria” early in a process. Decide in advance what conditions would warrant course correction and a cadence for evaluation. This objectively prevents us from continually moving the goalposts to justify staying the course.

I love this concept because it removes some of the emotion and keeps the focus where it belongs: the intended outcome.

When the evidence no longer supports the strategy, we acknowledge what we've learned and redirect our resources.

Is that quitting? Or is that strategic leadership?

Perhaps what we're really talking about is discernment: the ability to see a situation clearly, distinguish what matters, and exercise sound judgment.

Think about how often we sit in meetings, watching valuable time and resources being spent on initiatives that are producing little value.

Why don't we speak up? Challenge the narrative? Say no?

My guess? We've made it personal.

What will they think of me if I push back?

So, we go along and the investment continues.

Here's my challenge: Change the conversation and approach.

Rather than questioning someone's project or decision, elevate the discussion to organizational priorities and outcomes.

Instead of:

"I think we should sunset this project. It's not getting the results we need."

Try:

"Can we step back and look at where we're investing our energy? How are these initiatives contributing to the intended outcome? What assumptions have we made that no longer hold true?"

Notice the difference?

One challenges a decision. The other invites discernment.

When we anchor the conversation in shared objectives, ROI, and organizational impact, we create room to question the work without questioning the worth of the people.

We all see it. We collect data nobody uses. We continue initiatives long after their relevance has faded. We spend hours debating decisions that aren't ours to make. We protect underperformance because confronting it feels uncomfortable.

All the while, opportunity passes us by.

Discernment requires us to rise above our attachment to a decision and instead consider its value.

Perhaps the question isn't whether you have the courage to keep going.

It's whether you have the courage to quit.

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