The Power of Not Being Cool
If I mentioned James Bond, which one of these faces pops into your mind?
(OK I’m just gonna pretend the other Bond actors didn’t exist.)
They are very, very different people. The earlier Bonds portrayed by Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan were cool. Really cool.
Here is how Britannica (seems fitting) defines cool:
Able to think and act in a calm way; not affected by strong feelings.
Very fashionable, stylish, or appealing in a way that is generally approved of, especially by young people.
You might as well put Sean Connery’s picture next to this definition. Connery’s Bond was beating terrorists with one hand and holding the beautiful girl with the other. He was always calm, charming, and invincible. Everything was easy for him. Even when he was temporarily captured by the bad guy, you knew he would just outwit him and turn danger into an opportunity. Under Connery, Bond was like a British version of John Wayne.
The James Bond portrayed by Daniel Craig was a completely different guy. He was tough, real, and vulnerable—a try-hard. Nothing came easy for him. He was often confused, manipulated, lost, and even defeated. When he got captured, it was rough going. He would still win in the end, but it came after a brutal beating, both physically and mentally. It could be said that Daniel Craig’s portrayal had more in common with Rambo than the classic James Bond.
Why the shift? From someone who was really cool to someone who was kind of… not cool?
Well, according to Daniel Craig himself, Austin Powers happened. The three satire movies made almost half a billion dollars mocking James Bond. In the movies, Austin Powers—the buffoonish spy who does all the Bond stuff, like fighting for the British government, getting the girl, and beating the bad guy—was the most ugly and uncool portrayal you could imagine. And that was the point.
When a movie becomes so successful mocking your coolness and pretentiousness, you can no longer be cool—especially that specific brand of coolness. If you try to pull it off again, you’ll be automatically associated with Austin Powers and laughed at by the audience.
That’s a big reason why Pierce Brosnan’s Bond lost his way—and why he quit. Then Daniel Craig took over.
So, why am I talking about James Bond again?
(Look, I am not a huge James Bond fan, but somehow I use him to make a lot of references.)
The reason is simple: Sean Connery (and Pierce Brosnan) and Daniel Craig represent two types of people. Both can kick butt, but the former had the aura of coolness and actively cultivated and maintained it, while the latter lacked it—or even actively avoided it.
Which one is better? Would you rather be Sean Connery or Daniel Craig? Maybe the Brits can give us another Shakespearean take on “To Be Cool or Not to Be Cool.”
In my opinion, it really depends on your personality. But let me tell you this: if you don’t want to be cool, and don’t want to bear the burden of being cool, not being cool can actually be a huge asset. In fact, you can weaponize not being cool to achieve ambitious goals.
That’s certainly been the case in my life.
A Silly Laughter
Recently, I attended a holiday party with some of my former classmates. It had been over a decade since we last met. During that time, we had all grown up. For me, I went from a student who couldn’t land a job to an author who writes books and gives talks all over the world. I’m sure there’s a certain kind of respect that comes with that.
We started playing cards, and someone told a funny joke about the game. I can’t even remember the joke, but I do remember everyone laughing—especially me. In fact, I laughed so hard and for so long that I started choking and coughing on my own laughter. Gradually, everyone stopped laughing and stared at me like I was doing splits in my underwear on the street.
One of them eventually said, “Jia, you are breaking my brain. In my mind, you’re this TED Talk guy. I’m not prepared to see you like this.”
Ah, I see. I had acted a little too childlike, a little too raw, and a little too happy. I was NOT COOL in that moment. They thought I was cool, and I violated their expectations.
If this had happened 10 years ago, I would have felt extremely embarrassed and even depressed. Knowing I had built up an immaculate reputation in someone’s mind, only to accidentally destroy it with over-the-top laughter, would have given me nightmares. It would have been the type of embarrassment that lingered in my mind for years, the kind that would make me yelp suddenly while sitting by myself.
But things have changed. These past ten years have taught me one thing: I am not cool, and that’s OK. In fact, it’s part of my superpower.
I Am Not Cool
Many people have described me in person. The positive words are authentic, enthusiastic, and inspiring. The negative ones are emotional, disorganized, and undisciplined. But no matter what, no one—no one—has ever said to me, “Jia, you are cool.”
I used to want to be cool. Who doesn’t?
The cool kids are admired and liked. Nothing frazzles them. They don’t get too high or too low. They always seem confident and in control. They don’t act out of line. They don’t ask questions because they always seem to know the answer. And even if they don’t, people assume they do because of their calm demeanor.
But I could never be that. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. If I see someone do something good, I gush with praise like they just solved a 10-sided Rubik’s cube. If I don’t like something, my face looks like I just walked into a dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant on a summer day. If someone treats me well, I act like a golden retriever who just got a ball. If there’s a joke that’s funny, I laugh until I choke, like at that party.
Gradually, I found that my uncoolness has become my biggest asset in my pursuit of knowledge, wisdom, and achievement. My enthusiasm became my zest. My try-hardness became my work ethic. My emotions turned into passion. My “dumb questions” became my curiosity. And my rawness became my authenticity. These characteristics have become the core ingredients of my writing and talks.
It was my sheer curiosity, willingness to be silly, and disregard for public judgment that enabled me to take on projects like 100 Days of Rejection Therapy.
Moreover, because I am not cool and don’t strive to be, I get to be 100% myself. I don’t bear the burden of pretending to be someone else. I show up as I am and let others adjust their expectations of me.
And that’s liberating.
Are You Cool?
Do others tell you that you are cool? If so, congratulations! That’s a reputation that’s hard to come by—especially if your personality authentically aligns with your image.
But if not, don’t be too bothered. Instead, lean into it! Make your uncoolness an advantage.
If you look at some of the most accomplished people in the world, very few are seen as “cool” in the traditional sense. They dazzle you with the depth of their thoughts and achievements, not their personality, appearance, or demeanor.
In fact, studies show that the “cool kids” often struggle the most as they grow up. The psychological burden of maintaining that facade can lead to dark places.
The saying “fake it until you make it” is one of the most harmful pieces of advice I’ve ever heard. Personally, I prefer the motto “stay foolish, stay hungry.”
Human beings are meant to pursue goals, ambitions, and artistic expressions in harmony with Providence. In the end, it’s the uncool, try-hards who ask the right questions and change the world.
If you have to choose between being cool or making progress, always choose the latter!
PS. Leave me a comment. I answer every single comment.
I appreciate your cool articles that are inspiring as well as practical! (it's not easy to keep both features at the same time)
Thanks got sharing your writing and your totally cool/not cool Jia voice. 🙏 Not cool over here. Which is actually super cool. Much love!