Is it hiding in plain sight?
How to not get blinded by your mental models AKA how to not miss the best Indian food in town.
J and I were driving in rectangles.
An endless Etch-A-Sketch map with no erase function. But I did feel like shaking something.
We were visiting a new-to-us city that was heavily under construction. And we were teetering on the edge of bite-each-others’-heads-off-starving.
You’ve arrived: my Toyota Camry’s speakers chirped for the third time.
We peered out the window as we drove past an abandoned building, again.
Your destination is on your right.
I swung into the next plaza. Nope. I navigated across the busy street into a plaza that seemed like our last option. Not there. We squinted into our respective phone maps, zooming in and swiping and shaking our heads.
The upside-down, red teardrop labeled “Curry Gate” appeared mockingly, infuriatingly, just beyond the glowing blue dot of my car.
It was like the trick from swimming lessons as a kid: I would pop my head out of the water for breath, certain I was nearly there, only to find that my instructor was eternally just out of reach.
Did they close during the pandemic, maybe? Did they recently move?
But no, no, look: two days ago, an earnest reviewer urged the internet to visit. “Top-notch Tikka, generous portions.” 671 people had collectively assigned this (alleged!) restaurant 4.7 stars.
So we edged back into rush hour traffic.
As we idled at the red light, scanning our surroundings for a clue, we both zeroed in on a man leaving the squat, signless building across the street.
He held a white takeout bag.
When the light turned green, we pulled across the intersection into the parking lot of the actually-not-abandoned building in a fit of ravenous, unhinged glee.
An inconspicuous neon sign tucked under a red roofline spelled out Curry Gate on the side of the building we hadn’t seen yet. Next to it, two “open” signs framed a darkly tinted glass door.
You’ve arrived.
Curry Gate was heavenly.
It was also exactly where our GPS told us it was.
Yet we’d nearly missed out on experiencing their (generously portioned, top-notch!) tikka masala.
Why?
This, dear reader, is a classic tale of how mental models shape our experiences.
Mental models are like invisible glasses we wear that tint how we perceive the world. They’re based on our past experiences, beliefs, and expectations.
Our subconscious model of a beloved, 4.7-star restaurant: bustling, obvious signage, busy parking lot.
Since this low-profile, nearly-vacant-at-6-p.m. building didn’t fit the image, it was nearly invisible to us until we spotted a clue that matched our expectations: the universal takeout bag.
Mental models are not inherently bad.
They’re like the auto-pilot of our brains, allowing us to make snap decisions based on past experiences and learning patterns.
You can think of mental models as shortcuts that help you navigate the complexities of life.
Without them, we’d all be holed up on a corner fainting couch, glassy-eyed with the absurd volume of information we encounter every day.
But when it comes to accessing creativity, mental models can also box us in.
These models help keep us alive, but they can also keep us in our comfort zones.
So when we defer to these subconscious shortcuts always and without question, we risk missing opportunities. We stifle growth.
It’s like always taking the same route to work: efficient, yes, but you might miss a hidden gem of a park with the perfect reading bench or a tucked-away bookstore that smells of old pages and holds the vintage copy of Rebecca you’ve been searching for.
Mental models serve us brilliantly in managing routine tasks and decisions. But creativity and growth spring from periodically challenging and updating them with intention.
By consciously shaking up your mental frameworks, you open yourself to fresh perspectives, ideas, and opportunities.
We often approach creative challenges with preconceived notions of what’s true and what isn’t, what will work and what won’t — without even realizing we’ve constrained ourselves.
Of course we do.
Most of us were raised in an educational system that prized linear over divergent thinking.
But for better or worse, even our cultural mental models constantly change: Pluto got demoted; Lucky Charms no longer counts as a balanced breakfast; and we all rebelled against the insistence that we should never end sentences with a preposition. (Purists will argue that last one’s still a thing… but between us, it’s as stiff as Emily Gilmore’s DAR meetings - not something to get hung up on.)
Or consider the traditional belief that a successful career follows a straight, upward trajectory. Even our favorite rule-book enthusiast Rory learned that’s not so true.
What I mean to get at is that the current mental model that underpins anything you’re approaching right now might be based, for example, on your past your successes (or failures), or your industry’s conventional wisdom.
There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that, but I think it’s worth considering.
Because when we pay too much attention to business as usual, what do we risk missing out on?
What if the clue to your next brilliant opportunity or idea is hiding in plain sight?
Who knows?
Curry Gate might be right in front you, waiting to be discovered.
Such a great story- and an excellent metaphor. Mmmm. Now I’m craving a curry, big time.
This made me think of this quote by Richard Rudd that keeps popping up for me “Enlightenment is behind you, slow down and let it catch you up!”