Plan B for Brilliant

The first rule of holes: when you're
in one, stop digging."

--Molly Ivins


Not everything goes according to plan. Trust me. If it had, I’d have driven a cement mixer for TXI and lived in Pasadena. Or become a Rice-educated oil and gas lawyer living in Dallas, or an admiralty lawyer living in New Orleans (if I hadn’t been murdered after returning post-Katrina). And I’d have been divorced with two kids, having near constant battles with the ex-wife that would have come very close to bankrupting me in the late 1990s [sorry, because we’re getting along so well now, I must refuse to disclose the identity of my Alternate Universe Ex-Wife; I’d rather not have my head caved in over a silly misunderstanding like me writing “if I’d married you I’d have been divorced, broke and miserable.” Some people can be so touchy.].

But in each case, sensing that what I was doing wasn’t making it, I looked around, assessed my options, and decided there had to be a better way. In other words, I went with Plan B. What resulted was my life. A life in which I’m writing a blog about Plan B on Friday night, alone, in my extremely small house. But my house is in Central Austin and its all paid off, there’s a sweet car in the garage and nearly all my stalkers have moved on to something more interesting, so back off.

Most people find themselves incapable of dealing with drastic change and simultaneously unable to extract themselves from the dire straits in which they occasionally find themselves not because they face such limited options, but because they haven’t taken the time to come up with Plan B. “Always have a Plan B” occupies a prominent place on the Daily Affirmations Rules for Life. When your world comes crashing down around you, have something else cued up and ready to go. So many people have no backup plan in case things go wrong.

People look down on “B” because its not “A.” No one buys Grade B beef. No one congratulates you for making straight B’s in school. Its incredibly difficult to win a silver medal, but it doesn’t get you on a lot of Wheaties boxes (does it, Nancy Kerrigan?). Its safe to say, in America, no one likes to settle for second best (except when you’re on the verge of receiving the Democratic Party’s Presidential nomination, and you select Crazy Joe Biden as your running mate).

The reality, however, is that people go with their next best alternative all the time. You think anyone really wants to go to law school? If everyone did what they wanted, everyone would be an astronaut or quarterback, or a princess or ballerina. But the world needs roofers and data reduction clerks too. Not everyone can be the World’s Most Interesting Man, you know, like me. Not everyone can marry exactly who they were looking for. Not everyone can live somewhere cool. Would anyone voluntarily live in Oklahoma or Waco (except the bitter human husks who occupy the place, hanging on grimly to that last flicker of light once known as their “dreams”) if they could avoid it? Feh! I-35 would be a parking lot if those people had realistic alternatives.

Plan B often works out just great. Ringo Starr was Plan B, after Pete Best wasn’t working out. Lyndon Johnson was a Plan B. Uh, bad example. Harry Truman was Plan B. Ol’ Harry was really more like Plan D, as in Do Not tell Harry anything. The problem with that strategy is that when you elect an already-dying man as President, you probably need to at least take down the Vice President’s phone number. Houston was a Plan B, a necessary Yellow Fever-infested evil of last resort after Galveston was blown off the map in 1900. Michael Corleone was the next best alternative to lead the Corleone Family after Sonny was shot on the Causeway. Kurt Warner was a career backup who was never going to do anything except carry a clipboard until Rodney Harrison blew out Trent Green’s knee. Ditto for Matinee Idol Tom Brady, notable fifth round draft choice out of that cradle of quarterbacks, Michigan, who was languishing behind the Statue, Drew Bledsoe, in New England until Bledsoe got lit up against the Jets. Law schools are filled with people working on their second choice in life. Just like the Coast Guard. Florida State and Texas Tech wouldn’t exist if kids didn’t need “safety schools.” Kirstie Alley was the next best thing after Shelley Long left Cheers. Ok, that may be another bad example. It’s hard to remember, but there once was a time when Kirstie Alley wasn’t trying to outduel Sally Struthers for the title of Most Ready to Hibernate. Kirstie Alley was actually quite attractive and funny. Fergie looks a little like vintage Kirstie Alley. Marrying a Hardy Boy and becoming a cokehead didn’t really result in a great career plan.

Having a realistic, well thought out Plan B in life has two distinct advantages. Initially, having a planned out, ready to roll alternative protects you from unexpected changes not of your choosing. The problem with losing your job, your wife walking out on you, a tree falling on your house, and so many other surprises is that most people don’t have any idea what to do next. Everyone talks about planning for retirement, but no one talks about planning for premature retirement or your present plans failing miserably. People go through a shock phase, then a drawing a blank phase before they can begin to deal rationally with their predicament. Having a Plan B, much like a disaster plan, eliminates some of the shock and helps you make the transition. Instead of spending weeks and months wallowing in stunned paralysis over the unfortunate change of events, you can just implement Plan B. Some people call this a contingency plan.

That’s like on Gilligan’s Island. While all the poor passengers prepared only for a three hour tour, the Howells and Ginger wisely anticipated disaster and brought a wardrobe sufficient to last three seasons (lounge wear too, for the humid climate). They prepared for the tour to go wrong, and had something to change into while the others had to clean their clothes every day at the lagoon (though for some odd reason, Mary Ann somehow found a way to make a bikini).

A well-established Plan B also fulfills another important function entirely removed from catastrophes and other unexpected events—it acts as a barometer on your own life. Its easy to conclude you’ve screwed the pooch during those moments when you’re surveying the wreckage on the beach and the resulting oil spill your life has become, wondering how it could have gone so horribly wrong. Other life failures resist detection more readily. Some people glumly live life as if though on some forced march through the desert, unaware that Plan A simply isn’t making it. So your Plan B provides a life measuring stick. When your Plan B is better than Plan A, maybe its time to switch to Plan B. Having a “next best thing” helps you know whether you’re on the right track.

This is like in Top Gun, after Goose dies, when Maverick can go back to his old squadron as the baddest pilot on ship, or he can pick up a new navigator and get in on the Top Gun strike force going after Generic Hostile Arab Country MIGs. Maverick chooses Plan B, being Iceman’s wing man, instead of going back to his squadron and leading them.

Now this isn’t code for “leave your wife the moment you find someone prettier or nicer.” Or to quit your job of 25 years when you find something that pays even slightly more. Everyone has to consider the big picture and the long-term. That Victoria Secret model who inexplicably seems interested in you may at some level seem like a better deal, but chances are she’s totally crazy (someone once told me one sign of a crazy woman is if she’s way out of your league but still interested in you. I’m not so sure that’s true; at some level, they’re all out of our league). That lingerie model won’t tolerate your predilection for spending weekends on your couch watching football and eating cheese. She’ll want to club hop until 4 a.m. every night in places where everyone’s clad in black and named Gunter or Fabian. Guys who are “just friends” will call all day for her. And she’ll subsist on celery, water and cigarettes. Then when she's done with you she'll steal your identity and run up thousands of dollars of charges on your American Express card, and send emasculating text messages about you to all your friends. If you're lucky. If you're not, she'll stay with you and stick you with all her plastic surgery bills and her trips to places like Hawaii and Spain (with her girlfriends, not you, where they'll coincidentally meet up with Gunter and Fabian). Uh, I've heard. Not like your wife, who’ll make you chicken and rice soup when you’re sick and cheese dip on game days, give you a hug and kiss when you come home after a bad day, and overlook the later-in-life shrubbery you have growing out of your ears and on your eyebrows.

So everyone needs to start living life with one, or ideally, several Plan Bs ready to go. Always have a backup, you just may need it soon.