Today I Choose to be Rational – How to be Rational

The phone call came at 3 PM on a Thursday. One of my biggest clients, worth 30% of my revenue, wanted to triple their contract – but with conditions that would essentially make me their employee without benefits. My emotional brain screamed “Take it! Security! Money! Success!” But I’d learned something about energy economics that my emotional brain didn’t want to hear.

I told them I needed 48 hours to review the proposal. Then I did what 57-year-old me does that 40-year-old me never would have: I got rational about it.

Not emotional. Not reactive. Not desperate. Rational.

The Energy Calculation Nobody Teaches You

I pulled out a spreadsheet (because that’s how Finance Professionals do rational) and started calculating. Not the money – that was obvious. The energy cost.

Current client energy expenditure: 20 hours/month, mostly my high-energy morning slots.
Proposed expansion: 60 hours/month, including evening calls with Asia.

Then I got really rational. I tracked what those 20 hours currently cost me:

• Two days of recovery after their monthly drama sessions
• Three stress headaches per month on average
• Sunday anxiety about Monday meetings
• Disrupted sleep before deliverables
• Cancelled personal plans for “emergencies”

Triple the work meant triple the energy cost. At 61, I don’t have triple the energy. I barely have single the energy some days.

The Rational Truth About Difficult People

This client had a special talent: they could drain my battery from 100% to 5% in a single phone call. The CEO was a chaos creator who thrived on crisis. The CFO was a perfectionist who changed requirements after delivery. The COO was… well, let’s just say every interaction required a recovery period.

My rational brain did the math: Triple the revenue meant triple the interactions with people who made me want to day-drink.

Was any amount of money worth that?

The rational answer was no.

The 10-Minute Call Phenomenon

I’d discovered something disturbing: certain 10-minute calls drained me more than entire days of focused work. This client specialized in those calls. “Quick questions” that somehow devastated my entire afternoon. “Brief check-ins” that left me unable to do creative work for hours.

Rationally, I calculated the true cost:

• 10-minute call at 10 AM = entire morning’s creative energy gone
• Recovery time = 2-3 hours minimum
• Actual time cost = 10 minutes + 3 hours = 3.17 hours
• Energy cost = 1 full high-energy morning slot
• Opportunity cost = All the work I could have done while energized

Triple the contract meant daily calls. Daily energy assassination. Daily creativity murder.

The Rational Analysis of “Success”

Everyone would think I was crazy to turn down this expansion. Triple revenue! Security! Growth! Success!

But I got rational about “success” too:

Success used to mean: More money, bigger contracts, impressive client list, working constantly, being indispensable.

Success now means: Sustainable energy, work I enjoy, clients who energize me, time for painting, actual vacations, being alive at 70.

Rationally, which version of success was this contract offering?

The Committee Energy Drain Equation

Part of the expanded contract included joining their executive committee. I’d been on enough committees to know the energy economics:

Committee meeting energy cost = (Number of participants x Ego involvement) ÷ Actual decision-making power

Their committee: 12 participants with massive egos and zero actual power to decide anything.

Energy cost: Astronomical.
Productive output: Negligible.
Rational decision: Obvious.

The Rational Look at Alternatives

Instead of emotional panic about losing the client if I said no, I got rational about alternatives:

Option 1: Take the contract, triple my income, lose my mind, hate my life, probably develop stress-related illness, retire early due to burnout.

Option 2: Negotiate better terms, probably get rejected, possibly lose client entirely, definitely preserve sanity.

Option 3: Decline expansion, keep current contract (maybe), find energy-positive clients, make less money but actually enjoy it.

Option 4: Counter with my own terms that protect my energy, expect rejection, be okay with that.

Rationally, Options 2-4 all led to better life outcomes than Option 1.

The Saying Yes to Say No Principle

Here’s what I’d learned: Saying yes to energy vampires means saying no to energy donors. It’s physics. Or economics. Or both.

If I said yes to tripling this contract, I was saying no to:

• Morning creative time (my best work happens here)
• New clients who might actually energize me
• The painting class I’d been wanting to take
• Tuesday lunches with Curtis
• My sanity (not optional at 61)
• The book I keep saying I’ll write

Rational brain said: You’re trading life for money, and you already have enough money.

The 48-Hour Decision

After 48 hours of rational analysis, I sent my response:

“Thank you for the expansion opportunity. After careful consideration, I need to decline. My current capacity is optimized for delivering exceptional value at our existing engagement level. Expanding would dilute that value. I’m happy to continue our current arrangement or help you transition to a provider who can meet your expanded needs.”

Professional. Rational. Clear.

They were shocked. Then angry. Then threatening (we’ll find someone else!). Then… accepting.

We kept the original contract. I kept my sanity. Rationality won.

The Rational Approach to Work-Life Balance

That client decision cascaded into other rational decisions:

No more clients who require evening calls (my evening energy is for recovery, not depletion).

No more committees unless I have actual decision-making power (otherwise it’s just expensive theater).

No more “quick calls” with energy vampires after 2 PM (that’s when my shields are down).

No more working through lunch (feeding the machine that makes the energy).

No more saying yes immediately (everything gets the 48-hour rational analysis).

The Physical Reality of Rational Decisions

At 61, rational has a physical component younger me didn’t consider:

Stress immediately affects my blood pressure (measurable, trackable, undeniable).

Energy depletion affects my immune system (sick after every major deadline with that client).

Mental exhaustion affects my physical coordination (I literally run into things when mentally depleted).

Poor sleep from work stress affects everything (cognitive function, mood, digestion, joint pain).

These aren’t emotional responses. They’re measurable physical realities. Ignoring them isn’t brave; it’s irrational.

The Rational Revolution

Six months after declining that expansion, my business is better than ever. Not bigger – better. I replaced some energy-vampire clients with energy-donor clients. My revenue is slightly lower, but my life satisfaction is exponentially higher.

Rational metrics that matter now:

• Energy level at 5 PM (can I enjoy my evening?)
• Sunday anxiety level (am I dreading Monday?)
• Creative output (am I making things or just managing things?)
• Health markers (blood pressure, sleep quality, stress symptoms)
• Joy quotient (do I like my life?)

Money is still a metric, but it’s not the only metric. And rationally, optimizing for money alone is like optimizing for speed while driving off a cliff.

Today’s Choice

Today I choose to be rational. Not cold, not calculating, not emotionless. But rational about what energy costs, what success means, what my 61-year-old body can sustain.

I choose to rationally evaluate opportunities based on energy economics, not just financial economics. To measure the true cost of yes. To calculate the value of no. To understand that at this age, energy is more scarce than money, and time is more valuable than both.

Being rational means acknowledging that I can’t do what I did at 40. That energy has limits. That some money costs too much life. That success without sustainability is just delayed failure.

When the next “amazing opportunity” comes (and it will), I’ll give it the 48-hour rational analysis. I’ll calculate not just what I’ll gain, but what I’ll lose. Not just the money, but the energy. Not just the success, but the cost.

Because being rational at 61 means understanding that the highest ROI isn’t always financial. Sometimes it’s energetic. Sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s simply the return of getting to enjoy your life while you’re living it.

That’s not just rational. That’s wisdom dressed up in spreadsheet clothing.

And that client who wanted to triple my workload? They found someone else. Someone younger, hungrier, willing to trade life for money. I wish them luck. They’ll need it.

Me? I’m painting on Tuesday afternoons now. Rationally speaking, it’s the best investment I’ve ever made.