Nobody Really Wants to Be Anti-Fragile

To all those who have recommended that I read Anti-Fragile, I’ve got a confession: I never finished the book.

It’s not that I didn’t try. I started it—twice, actually. People kept telling me, “You have to read Anti-Fragile! It’s exactly what you do. It’s literally you in a book!” And I guess after the hundredth time, I finally gave in. I borrowed the book from my friend Tim (because of course Tim has it—he’s the kind of guy who actually reads books people recommend). I cracked it open, and there it was: page after page of theory and analysis on exactly what I had been doing in my life, my business, my career, for decades.

I got through the first chapter. Maybe the second. And at some point, I thought, “Why am I reading this? I am this. This is my life. Do I really need a book to tell me what I’m already doing?”

So I stopped reading. Not because Anti-Fragile isn’t brilliant—it absolutely is. But because the moment I started it, I realized I didn’t need it. I’ve been living the anti-fragile life long before I knew there was a fancy word for it.

See, it’s easy to talk about being anti-fragile. It sounds cool. It sounds tough. It sounds like you’ve got everything under control while the world is burning around you. But here’s the thing—nobody really wants to be anti-fragile. They just like the idea of it.

Being anti-fragile, as Taleb describes it, is thriving under pressure, gaining strength from disorder. You grow, not in spite of the chaos, but because of it. And that sounds great, right? Who doesn’t want to be that person? The one who can handle anything, pivot on a dime, and come out stronger on the other side? The problem is, the reality of living this way is messy. Really messy.

It’s not just some theoretical concept you can apply like a Band-Aid when things get tough. It’s waking up every day knowing you’re going to take hits, roll with the punches, and then keep going. And here’s the kicker—most people are terrified of that. They’d much rather avoid the chaos, even if it means staying fragile.

People love to talk about the end result of being anti-fragile, but they don’t want the process. They don’t want the scars, the sleepless nights, the pivots. They want the Instagram version, the tidy success story where everything looks polished and under control. But real anti-fragility? That’s dirty. It’s unplanned. It’s rolling with a broken play and somehow making it work. And that’s why Don’t Be Precious exists—it’s a roadmap for how to live in the mess, how to embrace the chaos rather than run from it.

One of the best quotes from Anti-Fragile is:

“The fragile wants tranquility, the anti-fragile grows from disorder.”

Yes! Exactly! But here’s the twist: everyone says they want to grow from disorder, but they really just want the tranquility. The hard truth is, the disorder is where you live when you’re building something, when you’re actually doing the work. And most people don’t want to live there. They want the appearance of toughness, the badge of honor, but they don’t want the blood and bruises that come with it.

Let me give you an example. I’ve spent my whole career being the guy people call when things have already gone sideways. When the safe, professional route has failed, when the “experts” didn’t deliver, that’s when they bring me in. Why? Because I’m used to the broken play. I know how to work in the chaos, how to thrive when everything’s falling apart. But you don’t get that way by reading a book. You get that way by living it, by taking hits and keeping your head in the game.

When I started my podcast, The Doane Cast, it was in the middle of one of the most chaotic periods of my life. And within a year, the pandemic hit. Suddenly, the entire world was living in a broken play. Everybody was scrambling, trying to figure out what to do next, how to survive in this new reality. But me? I was thriving. Why? Because I had been living in that broken play for years. I knew how to operate when things went sideways. I didn’t need a book to tell me how to do it—I had been doing it my whole life.

And that’s the funny part about all the Anti-Fragile recommendations I get. People love the idea of being anti-fragile, but they’re not ready to live it. They want the reward without the risk, the glory without the grind. But the truth is, real anti-fragility isn’t glamorous. It’s showing up day after day, taking the hits, and doing the work anyway.

So to all of you who keep telling me to read Anti-Fragile, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But here’s the thing—you don’t need a book to be anti-fragile. You need to get in the game. You need to take risks. You need to fail and then keep going. Because being anti-fragile isn’t just a mindset—it’s a lifestyle. It’s a way of approaching everything you do, not with the expectation that it’s going to be easy, but with the knowledge that it’s going to be hard, and that’s the point.

In Anti-Fragile, Taleb says:

“Some things benefit from shocks; they thrive and grow when exposed to volatility, randomness, disorder, and stressors.”

Exactly. But most people don’t want the shocks. They don’t want the volatility or the stressors. They want to talk about anti-fragility like it’s a cool accessory, but they don’t want to wear it when it actually matters. That’s where Don’t Be Precious comes in. This book isn’t just about thriving in chaos—it’s about learning to love the chaos. To see the beauty in the broken play, and to understand that real growth happens in the mess, not after it.

So no, I didn’t finish Anti-Fragile. But I didn’t need to. The real lesson isn’t in the reading—it’s in the living. If you want to be anti-fragile, stop talking about it and start living it. And don’t be precious about it. Because trust me, the world doesn’t care about how well you’ve planned or how polished your presentation is. The world cares about whether you can take the hit and keep moving.

And if you can do that, well, congratulations. You’re already anti-fragile.