Personality Not Included

What if the biggest changes in your life didn’t come from massive leaps, but from the tiniest pivots? Rohit Bhargava’s Always Eat Left Handed: 15 Surprisingly Simple Secrets of Success challenges the grand, motivational clichés of achievement and replaces them with something far more practical: micro-solutions. These are small, often counterintuitive decisions or habits that, when combined, can lead to massive long-term success.

Bhargava argues that the way to thrive isn’t by chasing perfection or embracing failure, but by paying attention to the little, manageable shifts that happen in daily life. As he says, eating with your left hand changed not just how he ate at networking events, but how he connected with people—turning a small behavioral tweak into a lifelong strategy for success. The message is clear: paying attention to the unglamorous, practical details often pays greater dividends than lofty vision boards.

From Small Fixes to Big Results

At its core, the book is a manifesto for creative problem-solving. Bhargava begins by sharing an experience from his first book launch, when he used a dust jacket to disguise another book during an interview—an improvised fix illustrating his belief in what he calls “micro-solutions.” The point isn’t to be deceitful but resourceful: success, he contends, flows from adaptive, creative problem-solving rather than rigid perfectionism.

Micro-solutions are those “club soda” insights—seemingly small tricks (like using club soda to remove stains) that, while minor, can make your day smoother or reduce friction. Each chapter encapsulates one of these principles and reframes a familiar life lesson in a new, memorable way.

Fifteen Secrets That Don’t Sound Like Advice

The 15 chapters of Always Eat Left Handed cover an eclectic range of behaviors and mindsets, from “Play the Cello” to “Walk in High Heels.” Each seemingly odd phrase conceals a deeper principle. To “Play the Cello,” for instance, means to cultivate curiosity and learn skills that might seem useless at first glance—just as actress Emily Trask’s cello skills unexpectedly earned her a Shakespearean role. “Overlap Your Legos” means learning to be a connector—someone who builds stable relationships through mutual overlap. “Wear Jeans” encourages you to embrace authenticity and approachability, symbols of “preparing for serendipity.”

What unites these quirky lessons is their practicality. Bhargava isn’t promising overnight transformation; he’s equipping readers with portable mental habits—the kind that you can use the next time you’re in a meeting, pitching a client, or just struggling to reset after a mistake.

A Human-Centered Philosophy of Success

Bhargava’s argument pushes back against what he calls the “myth of mistakes.” While other success guides glorify failure, he argues that small, self-correcting habits are a better way to grow. Mistakes are inevitable, yes, but what matters isn’t celebrating failure—it’s developing systems that prevent unnecessary ones. This emphasis on foresight aligns him with pragmatic thinkers like Charles Duhigg (The Power of Habit) and Malcolm Gladwell, but Bhargava’s spin is more intimate: it’s about creativity, empathy, and integrity in everyday life.

His concept of the “Cut and Paste Principle” illustrates this pragmatic creativity perfectly. In his early project management work, Bhargava learned that the most experienced managers didn’t start their project plans from scratch; they adapted templates. Learning this “shortcut” changed how he viewed success—it’s rarely about reinventing the wheel but knowing which wheels to reuse.

Why Small Thinking Beats Grand Ambition

The simplicity-focused philosophy in the book contrasts with a culture that idolizes hustle and disruption. Instead of huge career gambles, Bhargava’s success model is built on curiosity (“Play the Cello”), networking with empathy (“Overlap Your Legos”), authenticity (“Wear Jeans”), and self-respect (“Never Serve Burnt Toast”). It’s a mosaic of microdisciplines, each with a story-driven lesson that’s both meaningful and doable.

Success, Bhargava implies, is cumulative. The small things you do repeatedly—how you talk, dress, listen, and forgive—determine what kind of life you build. The book’s core lesson isn’t to aim for perfection, but to stay observant and flexible enough to turn daily missteps into smarter patterns.

Ultimately, Always Eat Left Handed is a case for living consciously. By breaking success down into approachable habits, Bhargava offers an antidote to both complacency and burnout. His message feels refreshingly practical because it’s built for real life—a world full of awkward encounters, delayed flights, and metaphorical burnt toast. The small fixes, he argues, are where transformation really begins.

One of Bhargava’s first lessons is deceptively simple: learn something useless. In “Play the Cello,” he tells the story of actress Emily Trask, who won the role of Viola in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night not just because she could act but because she could play the cello. Her collection of “unnecessary” talents—cello, dance, trapeze, yodeling—made her irreplaceable.

The broader message is that curiosity compounds. “Useless” knowledge often becomes useful in unpredictable ways, because it expands how you think and connect ideas. Steve Jobs took a calligraphy course after dropping out of college, a decision that later shaped Apple’s design philosophy. Random curiosity, Bhargava suggests, fuels creative synthesis.

Reawakening Your Curiosity

To apply this lesson, Bhargava offers a few practical tactics: ask more questions, buy unfamiliar magazines, and watch high-quality documentaries. If you buy a magazine like Farmer’s Weekly when you’re not a farmer, you might discover cross-disciplinary lessons—like the Amish Paradox, where smaller crop yields lead to long-term soil health. Such insights cross-pollinate your perspective, much like Jobs’s calligraphy did for typography.

Why Curiosity Matters for Success

Acquiring “useless” knowledge makes you adaptable, a theme echoed in research on creative thinking and innovation (Teresa Amabile’s Harvard work reinforces this same idea: creativity thrives on non-linear connections). You may never predict which skill will pay off, but curiosity increases the odds that one will. Playing your version of the cello may not get you on stage—but it might make you the most interesting person in the room.

Imagine stacking legos into a tower. If you don’t overlap the pieces, it falls apart quickly. Bhargava uses this metaphor to explain why strong relationships require overlap—shared connections and mutual understanding that stabilize human networks. Successful people, he argues, are connectors, not collectors.

Drawing on Malcolm Gladwell’s The Tipping Point and anthropologist Robin Dunbar’s research, Bhargava reminds us that humans can maintain about 150 close relationships—the so-called “Dunbar number.” Since we can’t know everyone deeply, the key is not quantity but quality, and learning to bridge groups through connectors.

How to Become a Connector

Bhargava offers three actionable tips. First, think like a matchmaker: connect people proactively based on compatibility and shared goals. Second, solve problems through introductions—link those who need help with those who can give it. Finally, know when to step aside and let relationships evolve without your involvement.

Why Connection Beats Transaction

In a world of superficial LinkedIn connections, Bhargava’s model reminds you to adopt a service mindset. Being a connector is less about status and more about generosity. The best connectors overlap legos deliberately—they help others build stable structures, which in turn make their own networks stronger and more enduring.

Bhargava’s confession—he hates cauliflower—is more than an amusing aside. It’s a lesson in authenticity and assertiveness. When he stopped pretending to like cauliflower, he found that his openness helped people remember him. Having—and expressing—opinions makes you memorable.

He contrasts this with the “Some people believe…” language lawyers use to avoid taking sides. In business and life, he argues, neutrality often equals invisibility. Having a point of view doesn’t mean being stubborn; it means knowing what you stand for and communicating it clearly.

How to Build Conviction

Bhargava suggests learning to think critically rather than memorize facts. He cites Phaneesh Murthy of iGate Patni, who argued that creative education thrives on “brainstorming, not memorization; individuality, not standardization.” To form strong opinions, you must separate beliefs from facts and occasionally take an unpopular stand.

Why This Matters

In the age of echo chambers and social conformity, being opinionated in an informed, thoughtful way helps you stand apart. Saying “no” to cauliflower is Bhargava’s shorthand for embracing individuality. In practice, it’s about showing others that you care enough to think deeply—and that you’re brave enough to disagree.

The “burnt toast” story comes from Bhargava’s time as a waiter in Washington, D.C. Early in his career, he used to flip burnt toast so the darker side faced down—a small deceit that went unnoticed until a customer called him out. The experience transformed his understanding of integrity: doing the right thing even when no one’s watching is the foundation of credibility.

He ties this principle to business ethics through a story of a home contractor who voluntarily split a rebate with Bhargava rather than pocketing it. This small act of honesty created lasting trust—and repeat business through referrals. For Bhargava, integrity pays dividends that shortcuts never can.

Practicing Everyday Integrity

True integrity, he argues, involves three acts: sharing the unexpected truth, following your instincts when something feels wrong, and putting your name on your work. These behaviors signal ownership and transparency, attracting trust naturally. When you make integrity habitual, you no longer need moral reminders—you simply act from character.

Integrity is the invisible currency that sustains reputation. Burnt toast isn’t about breakfast; it’s about whether you choose the easy fix or the honest one.

When Bhargava says “lose your watch,” he doesn’t mean abandon punctuality—he means trade rigidity for flow. Being “in time,” like James Bond slipping in just before disaster, is about synchronizing with the moment rather than the clock. He contrasts this mindset with what Wharton professors Jerry Wind and David Reibstein called “just-in-case” education—learning material you may never use. Instead, Bhargava pushes for “just-in-time education,” skills learned and applied right when they’re needed.

This redefinition of time has implications far beyond business school. Product launches, job changes, even conversations succeed because of timing. Wearing a watch may keep you “on time,” but losing it helps you see the broader rhythm of opportunities as they unfold.

How to Be 'In Time'

• Act with urgency when moments call for it—great opportunities often appear briefly and vanish fast.
• Be fully present rather than distracted; attention is the real power behind timing.
• Learn skills just in time, not just in case—train yourself to adapt flexibly through lifelong curiosity.

Losing your watch frees you to experience time as movement, not measurement. It’s another micro-solution: by relaxing control, you often end up achieving more.

Bhargava’s final and perhaps most powerful metaphor comes from Frank Baird’s 2001 campaign “Walk a Mile in Her Shoes,” where men literally walked in red heels to raise awareness about domestic violence. The symbolism is striking—empathy isn’t talk; it’s embodiment. To understand others, you must experience what they experience, even if briefly.

Bhargava connects this civic example to professional life through another surprising story: Carolyn Bucksbaum’s $42 million gift to the University of Chicago to teach doctors empathy. Her donation stemmed from a personal experience—one doctor dismissed her concerns; another listened. The difference was empathy, and it changed her life.

How to Build Empathy in Everyday Life

• Imagine a backstory for people who frustrate you—consider what might make their behavior reasonable in context.
• Identify unspoken incentives shaping people’s choices, then ask how to change those conditions.
• Ask about emotions directly; naming a feeling opens doors logic cannot.

Empathy, Bhargava shows, is the connective tissue of every other principle in the book. You can’t connect, simplify, or lead meaningfully without understanding what others feel. Walking in high heels is absurd—but it’s also unforgettable, just like every meaningful act of genuine empathy.