Mark: A 2012 Yale study gave 127 scientists identical resumes, with one tiny difference. Half had a male name, half a female name. The result? Michelle: Let me guess, the men got the jobs. Mark: Not just the jobs. Higher ratings, more mentoring, better pay. And the bias was just as strong from female scientists as male ones. Michelle: Whoa. That’s… deeply uncomfortable. It proves the bias isn't just a conscious choice; it's running on some kind of hidden software in our brains. Mark: Exactly. That hidden software, that unconscious bias, is precisely what we're exploring today, through the lens of a fascinating and widely acclaimed book called Elevate: An Essential Guide to Life by Joseph Deitch. Michelle: Joseph Deitch... the name sounds familiar. Isn't he some kind of finance mogul? Mark: He is! He's the founder and chairman of Commonwealth Financial Network, one of the largest private financial firms in the US. But here’s the twist that makes this book so unique—he’s also a Tony Award-winning Broadway producer. Michelle: Hold on. A finance guy and a Broadway producer wrote a self-help book? That’s an unusual combination. Mark: It is, and that blend of hard-nosed, data-driven thinking and creative, human-centered storytelling is all over this book. It’s what makes his approach to elevating your life feel so grounded and yet so expansive. He’s not just giving you abstract philosophy; he’s giving you a practical blueprint.

Michelle: Okay, a Broadway producer writing self-help... I'm intrigued but skeptical. This idea that our reality is a 'funhouse mirror,' as you put it, sounds a bit abstract. How does he make that concrete? Mark: That's the perfect question. He starts by arguing that our perspective is, by default, limited and distorted. We think we're seeing the world as it is, but we're actually seeing a reflection of our own internal programming—our fears, our history, our biases. And he uses a deeply personal story to prove it. Michelle: Oh, I love when authors put their own skin in the game. Let's hear it. Mark: So, Deitch describes a time in his life when he and his wife, Robbie, were having some contentious discussions. She felt he was headstrong and completely wedded to his own views. She finally convinced him to see a psychiatrist. Michelle: I can see how that conversation would go. "It's not me, it's you." Mark: Exactly. He goes into therapy thinking it's fantastic. He gets to talk about his favorite subject: himself. He feels like he's acing it. Then, a few sessions in, the therapist gently suggests that he might have some intimacy issues. Michelle: Oof. How did he take that? Mark: He completely rejected it. He argued with the therapist, saying, "I know myself better than anyone, and that is absolutely not one of my issues." He was confident, even indignant. The therapist, being a pro, didn't argue back. He just said, "I guess we'll find out." Michelle: That is such a killer line. It just hangs in the air. Mark: It did. And for two weeks, Deitch stewed on it, convinced the therapist was wrong. Then, one day, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The therapist was 100% right. He realized he had a massive blind spot. He was so convinced of his own self-awareness that he couldn't see this fundamental part of himself. Michelle: Wow, that's a tough pill to swallow. It's like thinking you're a great driver until you see the dashcam footage of all the near-misses you caused. That realization must have been humbling. Mark: It was transformative. He says that was the moment his mind truly began to open. He realized, if he could be so blind to something so significant about himself, what else was he not seeing? It’s a powerful illustration of what he calls the first insight: our perspective is de facto limited and distorted. We are all playing a game of Blind Man's Bluff with ourselves, holding a card to our own forehead that everyone else can see but us. Michelle: That’s a fantastic analogy. And it’s terrifyingly true. We judge others on their actions but ourselves on our intentions, because we can’t see our own "card." So if even the author, a highly successful and self-reflective person, couldn't see his own issues, what hope is there for the rest of us? Are we just doomed to live in this funhouse mirror forever? Mark: That's the core of the book's second half. Deitch says once you accept you're living in a programmed reality, you gain the power to become the programmer. He calls our minds 'biological supercomputers.' Michelle: A biological supercomputer. I like that. It implies it's powerful but also programmable. It’s not some fixed, mystical soul; it’s hardware running software. Mark: Precisely. And that software is written, often unconsciously, by our experiences, our culture, and the stories we tell ourselves. The Yale study is a perfect example of cultural software running in the background. The therapy story is an example of personal software. The book’s big promise is that you can learn to write your own code.

Michelle: Okay, I'm on board with this. From awareness of the problem to the tools for the solution. So if our minds are supercomputers, what’s the programming language? How do we actually start rewriting the code? Mark: The programming language, according to Deitch, is multifaceted. It involves our thoughts, our focus, and most practically, our words. Language is the command line for our brain. And he has this incredible story about his son, Matt, that shows just how powerful a single line of code can be. Michelle: This sounds good. Give me a practical example. Mark: When his son Matt was a toddler, he did what all toddlers do. When he was told "no," he would whine, cry, and throw a fit. It’s the default program for a frustrated child. Michelle: I know that program well. I think I still run it sometimes on Mondays. Mark: (laughs) Don't we all? But Deitch decided to try an experiment. Instead of just managing the tantrums, he decided to install a new piece of software. He taught his son that whenever he was told "no," instead of crying, he should look the person in the eye and ask a simple, five-word question. Michelle: What was the question? Mark: "What do I have to do to get it?" Michelle: Oh, that's brilliant! That is absolutely brilliant. It's not just asking for what you want; it’s reframing the entire interaction from a complaint into a negotiation. Mark: It’s a complete system upgrade. Think about what that question does. First, it stops the emotional spiral of the tantrum. Second, it forces the other person—the parent, the teacher, whoever—to stop and think. They can't just rely on a simple "no." They have to articulate a path forward. "You can have the cookie after you finish your dinner." "You can play with the toy after you clean up your room." Michelle: It turns an obstacle into a puzzle. And it gives the child agency. He’s no longer a victim of the "no"; he's an active participant in finding the "yes." It’s a software update for a kid's brain! Mark: And it worked. Deitch says his son stopped whining almost immediately. He became more inquisitive, more open-minded. And that simple program, installed in toddlerhood, became a foundational part of his personality. His son is now a successful business consultant who, not surprisingly, excels at asking great questions. Michelle: That’s incredible. It shows how a small linguistic tweak can have a massive multiplier effect over a lifetime. Okay, that's great for a toddler, but how does an adult start reprogramming decades of bad mental code? We can't just have our parents teach us a new catchphrase. Mark: That's where the "Action" part of the book comes in. Deitch lays out several skills, but the core idea is to start with small, deliberate experiments. You don't try to overhaul your entire personality overnight. You find one "bug" in your code and run a small test. Michelle: Like the author being five minutes early for a week. Mark: Exactly like that. He tells a story about how he was chronically five to ten minutes late for everything. It was an ingrained habit. A psychologist suggested he just experiment with being five minutes early for one week. Not a permanent change, just a one-week trial. That framing, "it's just an experiment," lowered the resistance enough for him to try it. And in that week, he discovered it felt good. The anxiety of rushing was gone. The experiment's success provided new data that helped him overwrite the old program. Michelle: So the key is to treat self-improvement not like a moral failing you have to fix, but like a scientist running experiments on your own operating system. You gather data, see what works, and gradually implement the successful code. Mark: You've got it. It’s about moving from judgment to curiosity. Instead of "I'm always late, I'm so disorganized," it becomes, "Huh, what happens if I try being early for a few days? Let's see."

Michelle: It seems like the two big ideas we've talked about—the funhouse mirror of our perception and the programmable supercomputer of our mind—are deeply connected. You can't really program the computer until you accept that its current output is distorted. Mark: That is the absolute heart of the book. The awareness and the action are two sides of the same coin. You can't just use positive affirmations to paper over a program that fundamentally believes you're not good enough. That's like trying to run new software on a computer full of viruses. You have to first become aware of the faulty code. Michelle: So how do you find the faulty code? If we have blind spots, by definition, we can't see them. Mark: Deitch's answer is surprisingly simple. You learn to appreciate your problems. The irritation, the frustration, the recurring argument, the thing that keeps going wrong in your life—that's not a problem. That's a diagnostic signal. It's the computer telling you exactly where the bug in the code is. Michelle: I love that. So the feeling of frustration is a gift. The Yale study showing gender bias is a gift. The therapist pointing out intimacy issues is a gift. They are all clues that point you to the program that needs to be rewritten. Mark: Exactly. The real "elevation" the book talks about isn't about floating above your problems. It's about developing the curiosity to look at them, to get fascinated by them, and to see them as the starting point for your own growth. It’s about becoming a curious detective of your own mind. Michelle: That feels so much more empowering than just "think positive." It's about "think smarter." It’s about taking control of the narrative. Mark: And it starts with small, deliberate actions. Deitch tells this one last story I love. He was in a heated argument with his wife, and he felt that classic fight-or-flight response kicking in. But then a thought popped into his head: "Get creative." Michelle: What did he do? Mark: He dropped to the floor, lay on his back, and started barking like a dog. Michelle: (laughing) No he did not! Mark: He did! And his wife, caught completely off guard, burst out laughing. The tension was gone. The argument was over. They solved the issue calmly minutes later. He broke the script. He chose a third option beyond fight or flight. Michelle: That is fantastic. It’s about breaking the program. When the software wants to run 'Argument.exe', you run 'BarkLikeADog.exe' instead and crash the whole system. Mark: It's the perfect metaphor for the whole book. Recognize the program, and then choose to run a different one. Michelle: I love that. It’s such a practical, almost playful, way to take back control. I think that’s a great takeaway for our listeners. The next time you feel stuck in a negative loop, just ask yourself: what's the most creative, unexpected thing I could do right now? Mark: A perfect summary. Michelle: We'd love to hear your 'get creative' moments. What's a time you broke the script in your own life? Share your story with the Aibrary community on our socials. We'd genuinely love to read them. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.