The Adjustment Bureau

Movies, Football, and the recipe for "success"

Listen. I done changed the title of this article a good fifty-leven times before finally settling on the one above, which I believe is the most fitting. If you haven’t seen it, The Adjustment Bureau is a movie about a man who discovers that his future is planned for him by a covert agency but decides to fight for his own destiny anyway.

The story is relatable because, growing up, I often found myself wondering whether our steps were predetermined or if we truly had free will. Then, as I got older, I deduced that we did, in fact, have free will but that society acted in large like the “Adjustment Bureau,” ensuring we fall in line and follow the “traditional” rules—which has become a motivating fear of mine: either change or the change will be done for you.

To bring you up to speed with our project, Woman of My Dreams, we’ve been receiving positive feedback from those who have either read the latest version of our script or have received our film presentation. Next up will be landing a guarantor, which will enable us to simultaneously apply for financing while following up with interested distributors in the hope of securing a deal before finalizing funding.

Sounds like a lot of moving parts. It is. And, similar to a real estate transaction, I’ve swiftly picked up that raising capital for films requires each piece to move symbiotically for progress to be attained. And that, conversely, all it takes is one of those pieces running awry to slow a process down or bring it to a halt—which we’re experiencing a bit of.

Admittedly, it can be discouraging to follow a plan or go through a motion only to have an unfavorable or open-ended outcome, no matter how self-assured one may be about achieving a goal. That said, the beauty of experiencing setbacks is that if you encounter enough of them (as I have), eventually, pivoting becomes second nature, which brings me to a story about a football game played nearly two decades ago.

Dating as far back as high school, one of the many traditions my best friends and I had was playing ball in any given neighborhood we lived in. It was a great way to not only stay connected but also provide an excuse to trash talk and obtain bragging rights amongst a group full of competitive personalities.

There’s one game in particular I’ll never forget. It was during the break between one of our early college semesters, and a group of us had decided to assemble at dusk for an evening scrimmage. We chose captains and picked teams per usual. Only this time, there was a glaring contrast in the personnel our team leaders had chosen: height versus quickness, the latter of which I was a part.

Naturally, both sides felt they had the advantage. Personally, I felt no one on the other side could guard me, so my grin resembled that of the woman on the Smile movie poster. I was more than confident that this would be a cakewalk.

It wasn’t.

For one reason or another, our quarterback just could not get on the same page with us: passes thrown short or behind, balls batted down, you name it. Then, whenever our Gigantor lookin’ foes were on offense… I’m not going to say they were getting lucky. I won’t. All I’ll say is that it was enough to cause my frustrations to brew, especially when the speaking of feculence commenced, irritating me even more. “Ain’t no way they should be beating us,” I fumed.

After getting scored on yet again, we huddled up on offense. By this time, the sun had disappeared, leaving only the dim street lights to illuminate the avenue, adding to the present challenges. It felt like we were out of options. Everything we had tried beforehand had ended in failure. I racked my brain for a play that could spark us. But before I could offer any X’s and O’s, my fed-up partner-in-gum flapping blurted out his plan, “Just throw it in my direction. I will adjust!”

Now, if you ever get a chance to meet my friend, you’ll quickly realize there isn’t an ounce of confidence lacking. However, not only was visibility an issue, but our opponents were well over six feet. And us? Not so much. From the outside looking in, my teammate’s proclamation may have sounded like conviction, fearlessness, valor even. To me, it sounded like desperation. But one thing about bragging rights is, when they’re hanging in the balance, what other choice does one have?

We lined it up, then after given the signal, sprinted off the line. Sure enough, our QB dropped back and did as instructed, launching the ball in my teammate’s direction for a potential big play. I stopped and watched.

Caught. Then, right on cue, he yelled, “I will adjust!” We hopped right back on the line. Next play. QB stepped back. Threw it. Caught. “I will adjust!” Next play, same thing. “I will adjust!” It didn’t matter if the ball was underthrown, overthrown, badly thrown, or madly thrown; my guy was moving the sticks. There were a couple of plays I couldn’t even see where the ball had ended up, my only confirmation being a catchphrase made famous in the moment. This went on back-to-back-to-back-to-back until he scored. It was truly a masterclass. One that galvanized us into making a run where everything opened up, and we never looked back.

Since that night, my friend has gone from being a bank teller blackballed from becoming a banker, to pivoting out of banking altogether and into breaking records as a car salesman, to breaking rookie records as an agent at one of the biggest life insurance companies in the country, to now a managing partner at said life insurance company. That’s an impressive run, a successful one if you will. One where confidence is undeniably needed, as I express in this article:

However, confidence isn't omnipresent, and—though there are genetic and environmental factors involved—it typically increases with experience. There has to be more at play when it comes to "success." Back on our concrete football field, I may have added desperation. That feels a bit deprecatory now. Today, I'd label it delusion, which also sounds pejorative, but when used positively, it can fill the crevices where confidence lacks.

I'll be the first to admit that I am a proud founding member of the Delusional Human Beings Club. It has its perks! For, delusion invalidates statistics and dismisses probability. It favors the bold and vindicates the naive. It'll have some questioning your sanity and inspire others to come along for the ride, all while appearing that you are just haphazardly moving about.

In my own life, delusion has taken me places where confidence initially could not. It's carried me when I was unable to see the light ahead. Hell, just the other day, I was lying on the carpet staring at the ceiling while complaining to my wife about my lack of recent progress as if she were my therapist (she is). Yet, here I am sharing this article with you today. Delusional!

Earl Nightingale once said, "Success is the progressive realization of a worthy ideal." I always revert back to this bar when reflecting upon the adjustments my confidence and delusion have forced me to make and the headway that has come from it these past three years: from getting lit up by a UCLA professor during a writer's workshop a couple years back because she expected more from me to receiving high praise from a group of gracious actors after a table read; going from hearing that my script wasn't ready from one casting director a year ago to me returning to the page, working through rewrites, and having another casting director eager to jump aboard a few weeks ago; from feeling awkward at film festival networking events to making intentional connections with industry professionals who have expanded my knowledge of the field exponentially. I know for a fact I haven't gone through all of that for naught. Let me rephrase: I know I absolutely will NOT have gone through all that for naught.

Conflusionment (a portmanteau of confidence, delusion, and adjustment) isn't always easy, especially when our brains are wired to run efficiently on habits and behavioral patterns. But if there's one thing I can confidently say in this ghetto fabulous year of our Lord 2025, it's that I belong. And if there's another thing I can confidently say, it's that we belong. You. Me. Us—in whatever it is we dream about, think about, long for, or desire. Regardless of the excuses we give ourselves as to why we are inadequate, we belong.

Will the gravel road less traveled be a challenge? Of course. Will it be bumpy? Always. Will path visibility be an issue? Absolutely. Will I need to diversify my funding strategies for future projects? Yeppers. But what I've learned is that there's no easier way to get to the other side than straight through, which I'm fully committed to doing. And though the numbers may seem daunting, the chances may appear slim, the level of difficulty may require a redirection, and a gatekeeper may force the need to hop a fence or two… or three, the bureau can keep whatever plans it may have for me. I am confidently—and delusively—prepared for whatever is thrown this way. And if not? Like my mans said nearly twenty years ago, I will adjust.