Mr. Syd never met a dollar he didn’t want.
He’s a driver here in Siem Reap, Cambodia. He’s saddled up on a small motorbike and is pulling a trailer with a covered seat in it.
Mr. Syd drives a tuk-tuk.
Mr. Syd hustles—hard. He:
- drops us off and asks when he can pick us up
- asks whether we’d like to go to the temples later today, or tomorrow
- puts his mobile number into our phones so we can call him any time
- texts us to see whether we need anything
- asks for referrals: he just sent me a text that reads, in part, “if you have friend recommend to me too…”
He asks for the business, assumes the sale, follows up, solicits referrals
Mr. Syd doesn’t miss a chance to make a few bucks. He’s hard-working and willing to go the extra mile (literally).
He’s not making excuses. He’s not hesitant to dial or text. He’s not embarrassed. He’s not worried that someone who chooses another driver will think badly of him. He’s in the game. He’s playing.
He’s fearless, makes no excuses, never stops
We all have our reasons for not hustling: we’re too busy, we’re too stressed, we’re distracted by this or that, we’re embarrassed, we’re not sure how to do it, or we’re just not ready.
Mr. Syd hustles, even though he’s got more excuses than most of us can even imagine.
This country, this place, provides all the excuses. I’m not even going to try to convey to you the poverty I’ve witnessed here. We’ve spent hours and hours driving out in the country, where 85% of the population lives. It’s intense. (My wife wrote a short essay: Some Thoughts on Cambodia.) This is a place that can’t offer you a step up. It simply can’t.
Yet Mr. Syd hustles. He’s taking ownership of his life. He’s not blaming the partners, the law schools, the economy, the clients, or anything else. He just keeps hustling.
