You Need to Lose The Measuring Contest

This post is about The Measuring Contest. You all know what I’m talking about. You meet someone new, you start talking, and the “Who is cooler?” debate starts. They say they’ve traveled a lot; you have to mention that safari you took in Kenya. Oh, so they have a Mercedes? Well, that isn’t environmentally friendly. Their suit is expensive, but your hair is longer. Sure, their kid is at Harvard, but yours is at UCLA with full-scholarship.

Maybe it happens over the course of an evening party. Maybe it’s over the course of months with a conceited student in your class (law school is particularly bad this way). Maybe it’s over the course of a lifetime with that one cousin you detest because your mom thinks he’s smarter than you.

Once The Measuring Contest starts, we usually fight to win it. Even when we want to let go, we give in to the pressure of mentioning all the awesome things we’ve done so that they feel a little more insecure and we feel a little more confident.

You know what the problem with that is?

People don’t remember what you say. They remember how you make them feel.

The Measuring Contest makes everyone feel horrible.

So it’s your job to end it. Of course there are two ways that every contest ends: you win it or you lose it.

I’m telling you to lose The Contest. I always try to.

Mention you travel the world and collect pins from all the countries you’ve been to and I’ll tell you how cool that is.

Mention you have health problems or family problems and I’ll commiserate, tell you how horrible it sounds, and listen.

Mention your parents are wealthy because they have a vacation home, and I’ll say wow, that’s a great investment.

Mention how high you scored on the LSAT and I’ll commend you for working that hard and pulling it off.

What I won’t do is tell you I’ve been to more countries, that I’ve had more serious problems, that my parents are in real estate, or that I scored higher. Not even when you’re being a braggart and a jerk, which incidentally was the case in all the examples I gave above. Not even if I really, really want to.

Here’s why:

Losing projects confidence. Letting the other person win The Measuring Contest takes security and pride in who you are as a person and knowing that what everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. It makes the other person feel awesome to be such a cool person. And it makes them like you and remember you.

I used to hate losing it, especially during my early teen years, where despite all the confidence I portrayed to the world, I was very insecure in who I was as a person. But I still forced myself to lose. Doing this for years has translated into real confidence, a tall walk, and a strong handshake, because I know I’m worth as much as everyone else, be it the doorman or the President of the U.S. I neither kiss up nor kick down. Self-worth is a powerful thing.

I never name-drop, even if people end up thinking I’m not that connected. I don’t wear makeup often, even if people end up thinking I’m not that pretty. I send forgiving, nice emails to trolls, even if people think I’m weak. And I don’t brag, even if people end up thinking I’m not that accomplished.

Because not that many people think those things. Many more people thank me for listening. There’s a lot of power in quiet confidence and in being vulnerable. There’s a heck of a lot of power in just being nice.

Next time you catch yourself in The Measuring Contest, smile, listen, and assume the person you’re meeting is more awesome than you are. Because if you do, you’re going to be way more awesome yourself.

#lawschool #studentvoices

Isvari is a LinkedIn Campus Editor, writes business columns for The Boston Globe and political columns for The Washington Times, composes pop music, and is a Global Law Scholar at Georgetown Law. Her novel, The Eyes of Mikra, is about a spy with amnesia who's figured everything out about the war she's fighting, but nothing about who she really is.  Available, like everything else, on Amazon.