the 3 enemies of mastery: meet the dabbler, obsessive & hacker 
(from Mastery by George Leonard)

Dabblers love the high that comes from doing something new: new jobs, new hobbies, new relationships, etc. They’ll approach each new sport, career, or relationship with tons of enthusiasm. They tell all their friends; they post about it on social media; they buy all the gear. They love the “shine of newness.” They don’t mind putting in the initial work to learn something new because they find joy in the initial spurts of progress that come with learning the basics of a new skill.

But the moment a Dabbler hits a real plateau—especially if it causes them to lose some of the progress they initially made—they quit…

Dabblers love starting new jobs. They’re enthusiastic beyond belief about them. But when the peak begins to wane, they look elsewhere for another opportunity.

Dabblers love learning new sports. They signup for tennis lessons. They buy the freshest gear. The coolest tennis racquet. And they’re elated when they learn how to hit a tennis ball. But when the progress slows, and they realize it’ll take time to perfect their stroke, they decide that maybe it’s better to try a different sport.

Dabblers specialize in excuses and rationalizations. This new job/sport/relationship just isn’t for them… They’re surprised to see sharp stalls in progress. They’ll tell you it’s too competitive, or that it’s not competitive enough. They’ll say it’s too boring. Or too dangerous. Or they suddenly realize they don’t have the time for it or something. And then, after they’ve adequately rationalized why they should quit, the Dabbler does what they always do: set their sights on something new.

• The Dabbler, in a nutshell: they start something new, experience the highs that come with quick results, hit a plateau and create an excuse to quit and move on to the next thing. Obviously, no mastery.

All they care about is results, results, results—and fast. So when they hit plateaus, they are just as appalled as the Dabbler. But rather than quitting, they double down. They ignore the fact that mastery takes sustained effort over time. They don’t mind putting in the effort, but they’ve got a problem with putting in the time—they want to get the tennis stroke right and hit the ball perfectly from their very first lesson. And when they can’t? They push even harder.

They push and push and push themselves to create a continued upward curve. But they push themselves too hard, and in do so, run out of gas. So what do they do? They look for shortcuts, of course. As they try to continue on the path and as things get increasingly difficult, they look for more and more cheats and crutches to get them the results they want.

The Obsessive becomes so obsessed with results that they don’t even realize they’re undermining themselves in the long run with these types of shortcuts.

The Obsessive is a lot like the typical bottom-line corporate executive we see today. They strive to keep the profit curve angled upward at any cost, even if it means massive lay-offs, sacrificing research and development, and bailing on long-term planning and profitability. The Obsessive wants results NOW, damnit!

The Obsessive does everything he can to keep his relationship alive. But his relationship becomes a rollercoaster ride with stormy separations and passionate reconciliations.

You can’t master calculus if you don’t master algebra. If you never properly learn to juggle three balls, you’ll inevitably drop everything when you try to juggle four. But the Obsessive refuses to understand this. They reject that mastery is cumulative—that it requires a solid foundation. And it hurts them terribly over the long run.

• The Obsessive, in a nutshell: they experience an upward curve, they hit a plateau, get impatient, try to push past it and move on to the next level, and then they run out of gas and experience a sharp downward decline. Obviously, no mastery.