The question isn’t “How do I follow this person’s exact path?” The real question is: why do we believe that one person’s journey is universally replicable?
I grew up in what now feels like a pretty idyllic time. Saturdays meant hopping on our bikes and disappearing for hours, exploring our little corner of New England. No one worried about being abducted or killed—at least, not until that day when the illusion broke, and suddenly everything felt fragile. But for a long stretch, life was simple. As long as I had a dime in my pocket for the payphone, my parents were unconcerned, and so was I.
High school brought a different kind of awareness. Drugs and fast cars, women of ill repute—my dad loved his Sam Spade novels and warned us endlessly about them. Secretly, I hoped a woman of ill or even semi-ill repute might notice me. I was no repute snob; any level of danger or scandal was exciting, if only to me.
But the thing my parents really hammered home was peer pressure. “Don’t fall for ‘everyone is doing it,’” they’d say. “If everyone jumped off the Tobin Bridge, would you do it too?” My favorite one was always, “Not everyone is doing it; you’re not, so that’s not everyone.” And my dad would chuckle, explaining about lemmings—stupid rodents who follow each other off cliffs to their doom. Don’t be a lemming, he said. Don’t follow the crowd just to fit in.
Of course, this advice came with contradictions. You have to fit in to make friends. Go along with people, be social, find your tribe—but pick the right tribe. There were peers who pressured, and we’d either break or watch from a distance while they had fun or got into trouble. That image—sitting on our bikes, just close enough to see the action but far enough to remain untouched—still lingers. It captures longing, curiosity, and the strange balance of childhood caution and desire. Peer pressure, in all its forms, was something to respect but never succumb to.
Fast forward to today.
We like to think of peer pressure as a kid’s problem, or maybe something that only hits Wall Street traders. But it’s alive, well, and wearing a suit now. In business, the “everyone is doing it” mantra shows up disguised as best practices, business books, courses, and workshops. People who’ve struck gold in some way—sometimes legitimate, sometimes barely—decide to bottle their “secret sauce” and sell it to the rest of us. And why not? P.T. Barnum had it right: there’s always someone willing to be wowed by the next big thing.
We’ve all seen the commercials: “I made two million in real estate in eight seconds. Now you can too!” Buy my book, take my class, attend my lecture at the Ramada by the airport, and you’ll be richer than the richest guy in Richland. The pitch is irresistible, and it works on our most human tendencies—fear of missing out, hope, and the instinct to follow what seems proven.
And yet, here’s the rub: despite all these promises, in 2023, the poverty rate is still 11.1%. That’s 36.8 million people struggling, and that’s just in the U.S. alone. If everyone really followed the steps in these books, attended these courses, and applied the formulas exactly, how is it that so few actually get rich?
I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve seen those ads late at night and even found myself momentarily intrigued. But the answer is obvious if you stop and think: the path to success isn’t a template you can copy. If every single person who saw the ad—or grabbed a business card off the wall at Rooster’s Clams ‘N More—followed the steps exactly, they still wouldn’t all get rich. There are too many variables, too many unknowns, too many personal differences. Success isn’t about the workbook; it’s about insight, timing, and daring to go where no one else has gone.
The question isn’t “How do I follow this person’s exact path?” The real question is: why do we believe that one person’s journey is universally replicable? Why do we think there’s a formula that guarantees riches if only we buy the book, do the exercises, and check the boxes?
Here’s the truth: there isn’t. And if we cling to that belief, we’ll keep spinning our wheels, hoping someone else’s map will lead us to treasure.
Adult Peer Pressure & Herd Mentality in Business
Remember how in high school you either “broke” or “watched from a distance” while the rowdy kids did whatever they did? Well, welcome to adulthood—except now the stakes are higher, and the rowdy kids are wearing suits. The lemmings haven’t gone away; they’ve just upgraded their offices, bought nicer shoes, and swapped skateboards for spreadsheets.
In business, peer pressure shows up in subtle, insidious ways. It’s not a friend daring you to smoke behind the gym. It’s the industry newsletter that proudly proclaims, “The fastest-growing companies are all doing this—are you?” It’s the LinkedIn post with 400 likes from people you’ve never met but suddenly feel accountable to. It’s the “industry best practice” everyone is following, the shiny tool or process everyone else swears by, the strategy that supposedly guarantees success.
And here’s the thing: the pressure isn’t always obvious. Unlike in school, where you can see the consequences of breaking the rules—being ostracized or grounded—adult peer pressure often masquerades as wisdom. “Best practices” sound rational, evidence-based, scientific, even. You don’t feel like a lemming; you feel like a responsible adult trying to succeed. But inside, the tension is the same: “If everyone else is doing it, shouldn’t I?”
It doesn’t matter what your business is—retail, SaaS, restaurants, consulting—there’s always someone selling the “right way” to do it. And if you’re like most of us, you want to believe there is a right way. You want the shortcut. You want the formula that guarantees results without the trial and error. After all, peer pressure isn’t just external—it’s internal, too. We want to belong, to be seen as competent, to avoid the embarrassment of being left behind.
The consequences of following the herd are rarely catastrophic overnight, which makes them even trickier. You don’t instantly fail by copying someone else’s strategy; you just plateau. You lose time, energy, and money chasing someone else’s path while your own unique advantage remains untapped. In other words, adult peer pressure doesn’t blow up in spectacular fashion like in high school; it quietly suffocates your potential.
And just like high school, there are always the observers—people who watch from a distance, learning, analyzing, but not diving headfirst into the crowd. These are the people who notice patterns, who see which strategies actually work and which are just noise. Watching isn’t passive; it’s strategic. It’s where real insight is born, because you’re learning without the same risk of getting burned.
Peer pressure is everywhere in business, but unlike the clumsy lessons of adolescence, the stakes are real and the consequences subtle. The trick is recognizing it, resisting the urge to blindly follow, and instead learning to identify which “best practices” are truly meaningful—and which are just the adult version of a fad, a shiny shortcut designed to make someone else richer while you chase the dream.
Because here’s the reality: most people aren’t rich, not because they’re lazy or unlucky. They’re rich when they’ve ignored the herd long enough to discover their own path, their own insight, and their own category. And that’s where the story shifts from peer pressure to category creation—the idea that real success isn’t about copying, it’s about creating.
The Illusion of Replicable Paths & Success Formulas
Remember those late-night commercials we all secretly watched, the ones that made you feel like a financial failure just for being awake at 11 p.m.? “I made two million in real estate in eight seconds. Now you can too!”—and all you have to do is buy my book, follow my steps, and boom: instant millionaire. It’s seductive. It’s shiny. It’s simple. And it’s mostly nonsense.
Here’s the thing: if following a step-by-step blueprint really guaranteed wealth, the world would look a lot different. We’d all be driving Ferraris, vacationing in the Maldives, and sipping espresso at outdoor cafés while reading our own books on how to get rich. Yet, in reality, millions are still struggling. Why? Because success is rarely linear, never purely formulaic, and certainly not universally replicable.
These books, courses, and workshops are built on a seductive illusion: that someone else’s journey can be packaged neatly into chapters, bullet points, and fill-in-the-blank worksheets. They promise certainty in an uncertain world. They promise that if you just “follow the map,” you will arrive at the treasure. But the treasure map is a lie. The path someone else took was influenced by timing, luck, personality, networks, risk tolerance, and countless invisible variables. You can follow the same steps precisely and still hit a wall—or worse, a cliff.
I’ve seen this happen in real life more times than I can count. People I know meticulously studied a successful entrepreneur’s methods—copied the marketing campaigns, the email sequences, the sales pitch scripts—and ended up frustrated, exhausted, and often broke. Meanwhile, someone else in the same city, with less experience and fewer resources, took a completely different approach, ignored the “rules,” and found success. The difference wasn’t knowledge; it was courage, creativity, and timing. And yet, the blueprint sellers keep promising the same result for everyone.
The pattern is everywhere: attend a seminar, implement the strategies, fill in your workbook, and you’ll be rich. Follow the template, they say. Do the exercises, they insist. Trust the system. And when it doesn’t work, the failure isn’t theirs—it’s yours. You didn’t try hard enough, you didn’t follow the steps closely enough, or maybe you just weren’t ready. The irony is delicious and brutal: they profit either way, while the student carries the disappointment.
Here’s where it gets even more subtle: we, as humans, want to believe it. We want the formula because formulas are safe. They’re predictable. They let us imagine that if we just follow along, the chaos of life can be tamed. It’s comforting in the same way that “everyone is doing it” felt comforting in high school—until the bridge jumped or the drugs hit. But life isn’t predictable, and success isn’t a cookie-cutter exercise. It’s messy, full of uncertainty, and often counterintuitive.
And that’s exactly why category creation is so powerful. While the “follow the steps” people are selling formulas that worked for them (or sometimes didn’t even work for them), the people who break new ground are creating something entirely new—a category, a niche, a shift in the way people think about a product or service. They aren’t copying anyone else; they’re shaping perception, expectations, and behavior. They aren’t following a script—they’re writing it.
So, if the formula books don’t work for everyone, and peer pressure pushes us toward the same paths, what’s the alternative? The answer isn’t to follow more steps. It isn’t to read more books or take more courses. The answer is to stop chasing the formulas that promise replication and start exploring the unique path that only you can create.
Because here’s the kicker: when you step off the treadmill of mimicry, you realize something simple and profound. The very thing that seems risky—the thing the books tell you not to do—is exactly what will set you apart. The “unfollowed path,” the road less traveled, the approach that doesn’t have a workbook or seminar attached? That’s where the real opportunity lives.
Category Creation – How Doing Your Own Thing Pays Off
If following the blueprint rarely works, what does? The answer is surprisingly simple, but also surprisingly hard: you create your own path. You invent your own category. You do the thing no one else is doing—or at least, no one else is doing in the same way.
Think about some of the biggest names in business. Did Starbucks become Starbucks by copying Dunkin’ Donuts? Did Tesla succeed by replicating GM or Ford? Did Patagonia become Patagonia by following the “best practices” of other outdoor brands? Of course not. They created their own space. They defined their own rules. And in doing so, they didn’t just compete—they became the standard. They owned a category.
Category creation isn’t just a marketing buzzword; it’s a mindset. It’s saying, “I don’t care what everyone else is doing. I care about what only we can offer, and I’m going to show the world why it matters.” It’s the business equivalent of sitting on your bike as a kid, watching the chaos unfold, and then deciding, “I’m going to do this my way, and maybe it’ll be even better.”
The magic of category creation is twofold. First, it allows you to escape the treadmill of replication. No more following steps that someone else got rich off. No more trying to squeeze into a mold that wasn’t made for you. You define the mold. You’re not a lemming; you’re the cliff.
Second, it creates clarity for your audience. When you invent a category, people understand what you stand for, even if they’ve never seen your product before. They see the difference instantly. It’s why Apple didn’t just sell computers—they sold a “lifestyle of simplicity and design.” It’s why Airbnb didn’t just rent rooms—they created a new way to travel. The category isn’t just the product; it’s the story, the perception, the experience. And that is what makes people care—and more importantly, what makes them buy.
But category creation is hard. It’s risky. By definition, it’s unknown. When you try to invent something new, people will doubt you. They’ll tell you it won’t work, that no one else is doing it, that you’re wasting your time. The trick is to push past that doubt—not just the external skepticism, but the internal kind too. You have to trust your perspective, your insight, and your instincts. And yes, you’ll fail sometimes. You’ll hit walls. But each attempt teaches you something that no blueprint ever could.
Here’s a key insight: the early adopters, the ones who believe in you before anyone else does, are your friends. They are the people who will help you refine your category, expand it, and prove it works. Unlike the mass audience, they aren’t looking for perfection; they’re looking for difference. They’re looking for authenticity. And if you deliver that, your category grows, and so does your influence.
Finally, category creation compounds over time. The first step is hard, but once you’ve defined a category and people recognize it, everything else gets easier. You no longer have to compete on price, features, or “best practices.” You compete on your terms because you’re not just offering a product or service—you’re offering a new way of thinking about the problem. And that, my friends, is how businesses become unforgettable.
Stop Following, Start Experimenting
By now, it should be obvious: following someone else’s path rarely works. We see it in late-night ads, glossy books, and seminars promising the shortcut to wealth. Everyone wants the blueprint, the fill-in-the-blank instructions. But here’s the thing: life, business, and success are rarely a fill-in-the-blank game.
That doesn’t mean rules, strategy, or learning from others aren’t useful—they are. But blindly copying someone else’s moves is what keeps most people stuck. You’re not a lemming. You’re not a page in a workbook. You’re a person capable of experimenting, learning, and discovering solutions that fit you, your circumstances, and your vision.
Think of category creation here not as a corporate buzzword but as an example of doing just that: seeing a space, asking hard questions, and creating something new that only you can. The companies that invent categories aren’t following the path everyone else is—they’re experimenting, iterating, and daring to think differently. That’s the mindset we want to embrace in business and in life.
Experimentation doesn’t require massive risk. It starts small. You try an idea, observe the results, adjust, and try again. You don’t need a book, a seminar, or a late-night TV guru telling you what to do—just the willingness to engage, learn, and iterate. Think back to your childhood bike rides: you didn’t need a manual for adventure. You figured it out as you went, learning the curves, the streets, and your own limits. The lessons were yours because you discovered them yourself.
The Mindset Shift—Thinking for Yourself
So, what’s the difference between the people who succeed by copying a formula and those who carve their own path? It’s mindset. It’s the stubborn confidence to trust your instincts, the curiosity to question conventions, and the patience to endure the failures that come with experimentation.
Category creation is a perfect illustration, but the principle is universal. In business, in creative pursuits, even in personal decisions, the winners are the ones who observe carefully, test boldly, and shape their own path instead of blindly following someone else. They are the kids on the bike watching from a distance—learning, longing, and discovering the world for themselves.
Discomfort is part of the deal. Thinking independently and experimenting will often feel risky. You might fail, or you might look foolish. But that’s exactly the point: growth lives outside the comfort zone. Comfort is the trap that keeps people following everyone else’s path.
And while it’s tempting to measure success the same way as everyone else—money, status, applause—the real measure is whether your work, your choices, and your experiments are truly yours. Whether you’ve built something that wouldn’t exist if you hadn’t asked the hard questions, tried the hard things, and trusted yourself to carve a path others couldn’t see.
Summing Up
The lesson is simple, but not easy: following the crowd rarely works. Peer pressure doesn’t disappear just because you’re an adult; it shows up as “best practices,” “proven formulas,” and get-rich-quick schemes. Life and business don’t come with a fill-in-the-blank manual.
Category creation is one example—a metaphor for carving your own way—but the principle applies everywhere. The real opportunity comes when you trust yourself, experiment, and define your own path. You observe, you iterate, you adjust, and you build something unique because it comes from you.
So stop asking, “Why am I not rich yet?” and start asking, “What can I create that only I can?” Whether you’re launching a business, pursuing a passion, or just navigating life, the principles are the same: think for yourself, experiment boldly, and carve a path worth following. That’s where real growth—and real reward—lives.
