My dad has always had good money habits. As an accountant and CFO, he tried to pass that along to my brother and me from a young age. (It seems to have worked at least a bit, as my brother is now a financial advisor and I wrote a book about pricing.)

One of the techniques that my dad would use when I was a kid was matching my effort. If I wanted to buy a toy or a comic book or a video game, he’d offer to pay for half. I’d have to raise the other half by doing work around the house or saving money my grandparents gave me (or begging my brother to borrow some).

This technique stuck around and scaled well as I got older too. When I got my driver’s license and wanted a car, my dad paid for half of my first used car and I paid for the other half from working part-time at a tuxedo shop that summer. When I went to college, my parents paid half my student loans and I paid the other half over the next 11 years. My parents paid for half of my wedding, and I paid for the other half from a freelance gig (which I royally screwed up, but that’s a story for another time).

In hindsight, this has been one of the most helpful models in my life. It taught me what a blessing and relief it is to have help, and that I’d also have to do my part. I use this approach a lot at home and at work when I’m coaching, teaching, parenting, and mentoring.

When I ran my apprenticeship program, I learned that many new designers and engineers come into the industry thinking there’s one way to do things—one right way and everything else is the wrong way. So they hunt for it, and it’s a frustrating journey. Part of what I try to show them to help them conquer that hurdle is that there are often many avenues to success, and I do that by matching their effort.

For example, a designer might be working on a comp for a landing page where the layout just isn’t working for the content. To help them push through, I’ll sketch a different layout with them, and I’ll ask them to do a few more themselves. If they come back and bring me 2 more sketches (3 total including the first one), I’ll do 3 additional sketches with them. If they bring me 10 sketches, I’ll do 10 additional sketches with them. The irony is that the person who can bring me 20 sketches probably doesn’t need me to do 20 additional sketches with them.

An important principle I try to follow is to not outdo their effort. For new engineers, figuring out what to Google to solve their problem is half the battle. Often times, they’ll Google 1 thing, not find what they’re looking for, give up, and ask me what to Google. I think they’re wanting me to tell them what to search for. Instead, I ask them what they’ve searched for already. If they share 1 search query with me, I’ll suggest 1 additional search query and I’ll encourage them to try and think of 2 more additional things to search for, in which case I’ll give them 2 more then. If they search for 1 thing and I give them 5 things to search for, it kinda became more my project than theirs. Like weightlifting, they’re showing me their capacity. If they only know how to come up with one search query at a time, my job is to slowly help them increase their capacity. If they can only lift 100 pounds, I’d be overloading them by putting another 300 pounds on the bar.

Next time you’re working with someone you’re trying to help grow—a mentee, a direct report, your kid—match their effort and encourage them to slowly increase their capacity. Watch the joy in their eyes as they realize how proud they are of their own accomplishment… even if they had a little help.

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