[Cold open - the man with his arms crossed] So far this thread has sounded pretty lovely. Fill the jar instead of being the well. Hold the center for someone who's running thin. Warm stuff. Now let me bring in the man standing in the back of the room with his arms crossed. Call him Jake. Thirty-four. Smart, careful, and — this is the important part — he's been burned before. He gave somebody the benefit of the doubt once, gave more than he should have, and watched them take it all and walk. So when I say give first, Jake doesn't feel warm. He feels his guard go up. And he says the thing that everyone secretly thinks and almost nobody says out loud: that's a wonderful way to become the doormat everybody wipes their feet on. Give first? People will just use me. I look out for myself, and I've got good reasons. And I want to stop right here and say something. Jake is not the bad guy in this story. Jake might be the most honest person in the whole room. That fear he's holding is real, it's earned, and if we just smile and tell him to give anyway, we're lying to him. So tonight, we're not going to dodge Jake. We're going to walk straight into his doubt and take every bit of it seriously.
[The fear, taken all the way down] So let's not skip past the fear. Let's go all the way down into it, because Jake deserves that. Here's the picture in his head, and maybe in yours too. You decide to be generous. You give first. You're the one who helps the new guy, covers the shift, lends the thing, says yes. And what happens? Word gets around that you're soft, that you're an easy yes, and slowly the takers find you the way water finds the low spot. Pretty soon you're doing for everyone and nobody's doing for you, and the ones who took the most vanish the fastest the day you finally need something back. And here's the part that really stings — you'll feel like a fool. Not just used. Foolish. Like the careful people were right and you were the sucker. I need you to hear me say this plainly: that is not a crazy fear. That is a thing that happens to genuinely kind people, all the time. If anybody in this series ever tells you takers aren't real, close the book. Takers are real. Some people will take everything you hand them and never once think about handing anything back. Jake's not imagining a monster. He's describing someone he's actually met. So the question isn't should you worry about getting used — of course you should. The question is the one Jake's really asking underneath: is there a way to be generous that doesn't leave me wide open? And the answer is yes. But first we have to see why the old way left him open.
[Where the takers hide - the deep dark well] So here's the thing Jake got right, and the thing he got wrong. He got right that takers are real. Where he went wrong is the shape he was giving in. Think back to the very first episode. We talked about two shapes for giving. There's the well — one person, deep and giving, and everybody else just lowers a bucket and drains it. And there's the jar — open, in the middle, where everybody puts something in and everybody draws something out, and it keeps going around. Now here's what I never said out loud back then. A well is the perfect hiding place for a taker. Think about it. A well is deep, and dark, and you can't see the bottom. If you're the well, somebody can come drink from you for years and you have no idea how many times, or who, or whether they ever gave a single thing back, because a well isn't built to show you that. It just gives, in the dark, to whoever shows up with a bucket. That's exactly the shape Jake got burned in. He was being a well. And a taker can live inside a well forever, because the well can't see who's draining it. But a jar is the opposite kind of thing. A jar is open. A jar is clear glass. Everybody can see what goes in and what comes out. And in a shape like that, the person who only ever reaches in and never once puts anything back has a real problem — because everyone around the jar can see him do it. He's not hidden anymore. The taker didn't get more sneaky. The shape just stopped hiding him.
[The trap to avoid - this is not give-to-spy] Now I have to stop and be very careful, because there's a wrong turn right here that a lot of people take, and I don't want you taking it. When I say the open jar shows you who only takes, it would be easy to hear that and think: oh, I get it. So I give little gifts as a way to watch people. I give to run a test, to grade everybody and catch the bad ones. No. Stop. That is not it at all, and if you do that, you've thrown the whole thing away. Listen close, because this is the heart of it. The giving is real. You give because giving is good and because you actually want to — full stop. The fact that, over time, you start to notice who's real and who isn't — that is a gentle side effect, not the reason. It's not a trap you set. It's not a camera you point at people. You are not auditing your friends. You're just being openly, honestly generous, out in the clear where giving naturally happens — and in the clear, you don't have to be a detective, because the takers tend to show themselves. They get quiet. They reach in one too many times and feel the room notice. And mostly, they just drift off on their own, to go find a nice dark well somewhere else. You never had to confront anybody. You never had to keep a scorecard. You gave like a generous person, and the truth came to you on its own. The minute giving becomes a test you're running on people, it stops being a gift — and they can feel that, and so can you.
[The turn - give first, but small] Okay. So how does Jake actually do this? How do you give first without leaving yourself wide open? Here's the turn, and it's so simple it almost sounds like nothing — but it changes everything. You give first. But you give small. You don't protect yourself by giving nothing — that just makes you a smaller, lonelier version of the same scared guy. And you don't protect yourself by giving everything to a stranger on day one — that's how Jake got burned. You protect yourself by leading with the small gift. The introduction. The ten minutes. The ride to the airport. The good word put in. The little thing you could honestly afford to lose. You give it, freely, like a gift — because it is one. And then you don't watch. You just live, and you stay open. And here's the quiet magic of small. If it turns out you handed your trust to a taker, you find out cheap. You're out ten minutes, not ten thousand dollars. The lesson costs you almost nothing. But if it comes back around — if that person turns out to be a real one — now you've found something precious, and you found it without betting the farm to learn it. Small isn't you being stingy. Small is you being wise and generous at the same time. The size of the first gift is small. The heart behind it is wide open. That's the whole trick. Lead small, give true, stay open — and let time tell you the rest.
[An old reason this works - the cooperation research] And here's something that might surprise you, Jake. This isn't just a nice idea. There are people who actually studied this — studied it cold, with numbers and machines, no warm feelings allowed — and they found the same thing. Years ago, a researcher named Robert Axelrod ran a kind of contest. He wanted to settle an old argument: in a world with takers in it, what actually wins? Pure selfishness — give nothing, grab what you can? Or something more like cooperation — giving and helping back and forth? So he had different ways of playing run against each other, over and over, thousands of rounds. And the one that won was not the cold, grab-everything one. The winner started out friendly — it gave first. But — and this is the part Jake will love — it was nobody's fool. When it ran into someone who only took and never gave back, it noticed, and it stopped giving to that one. It didn't get bitter. It just quit feeding the taker, and went right on cooperating with everyone else. Give first, stay open, but don't keep feeding the ones who only take. That plain idea beat pure selfishness, again and again, in a cold hard contest with no room for wishful thinking. So this isn't soft. The careful, give-small-first kind of generosity isn't the naive choice. As best the research can tell, it's the one that actually comes out ahead.
[The deeper trust - not everyone gets the same gift] Now there's one more thing Jake needs. Because so far we've talked about the small first gift, the one you can afford to lose. But Jake's real wound wasn't a small gift. It was a big one. He opened all the way up to somebody and got taken for everything. So let's talk about the big gifts — the real trust, the deep stuff, the let-you-all-the-way-in kind of giving. Here's the rule, and it's the most freeing thing in this whole episode: not everyone gets the same gift. The small first gift is open to almost anybody — you're generous with strangers in little ways because it's cheap and it's kind and it's how you meet the real ones. But the deep trust, the part of you that really costs something if it's misused — that you give to the people who've already shown you, over time, that they give back. You don't owe your whole heart to everyone who walks up. That was never the deal. The deal is: small and open to many, deep and slow to few. The takers never make it to the deep gift, because they showed themselves back at the small one, and drifted off long before you ever opened the door that matters. So Jake — you were right to guard the deep stuff. You were never wrong about that. You just put the same heavy guard on the small stuff too, and that guard is what kept you alone. Drop the guard on small. Keep it on deep. Let people earn their way inward, gift by gift. That's not being closed off. That's being wise about where your trust goes — which is exactly what a generous person who plans to keep giving for a lifetime has to be.
[Turn it on yourself] Alright. Let's bring this all the way home, to you — because Jake's a story, and stories are easy to nod along to and forget. So let me ask you something real, and I want you to actually stop and answer it. Where has the fear of being used kept you from giving at all? Be honest. We talk about guarding the deep stuff, but most of us aren't doing that. Most of us are doing what Jake did — slapping the heavy guard on everything, holding back even the small, cheap, easy gives, because somewhere along the way somebody took too much and we decided the safest thing was to give nothing to nobody. So picture it. The introduction you didn't make because, eh, why stick your neck out. The kind word you swallowed. The ten minutes you had and kept. None of those would have cost you a thing if they'd gone nowhere. And here's the harder question, the one I really want you to sit in. Who's a real one you've been guarding against by accident? Somebody good. Somebody who'd give right back. Somebody you've kept at arm's length, not because they ever did anything, but because one time, someone else did — and now everyone pays the price for that one person. Be still a second. You probably just saw a face. Maybe two. There's a good chance one of them has been quietly waiting for you to lead with one small gift — and has been ready to give it right back this whole time.
[This week - make one small give] So here's your one thing this week, and I need to be crystal clear about what it is and what it absolutely is not. This is not a test. You are not going to give somebody something and then sit back and watch to see if they pass. No scorecards. No secret grading. No catching anybody. If that's the spirit you bring, leave it at the door — it'll poison the whole thing. This is a give. Plain and simple. A gift, freely given, because giving is good. Here's how. Pick one give small enough that you honestly wouldn't mind if it went nowhere. An introduction between two people who should know each other. Ten real minutes of your time. A good word put in for someone who'll never hear you said it. Something you could afford to lose and never miss. And then give it. Freely. No strings. No invoice in your head. No little note that says they owe you now. Give it the way you'd give a flower — because it's nice, and then it's gone, and that's fine. And then — this is the only hard part — let it go. Don't watch for the return. Don't keep the receipt. Just live your week. If something comes back around someday, what a gift. If it doesn't, you're out almost nothing, and you got to be the kind of person who gives — which was always the better deal anyway. One small give, freely, no strings. That's the whole assignment. Lead small, and let your guard finally point at the right thing.
[Outro] So that's the third thread, and it runs straight through these five books: the fear of being used is a good instinct, pointed at the wrong target. Takers are real — Jake was right about that, and we never pretended otherwise. But you don't beat the takers with walls, because walls keep out the good ones too, and a life behind walls is just a quieter kind of empty. You beat the takers with the shape of your giving. Get out of the deep dark well, where anybody can drain you in the dark and you'll never know. Get to the open jar, in the clear, where you give first but you give small, the deep trust is earned gift by gift, and the ones who only take quietly show themselves and drift off on their own — no fight, no scorecard, no detective work from you. You just kept being generous in the open, and the truth came to you for free. So this week, make one small give. Freely. No strings. And watch your guard finally relax onto the right thing. Jake's still standing in the back, by the way — arms a little less crossed now. But there's one fear left in him, the deepest one, hiding underneath all of this: the creeping feeling that even if all of this is true, it still somehow all depends on him, and he is so very tired. That's exactly where we go next. Watched over, as always, by Daisy. I'll see you there.