Today’s challenge was to come up with a crazy business idea.
Here’s mine.
I would start something called One-Day Life University*.
And before anyone with a law degree or a strongly worded email warms up, let me clarify: this is not a real university. There are no degrees, no accreditation, no transcripts, and absolutely no mascot. There may be folding chairs and bad coffee, but that’s as far as the higher-education comparison goes. The asterisk is doing a lot of work here, and it’s earning every bit of its keep.
The idea would be simple. People would sign up for one-day classes in the areas of life where young people most frequently manage to mess things up—not because they’re reckless or stupid, but because nobody ever really explains these things until it’s too late. The instructors wouldn’t be experts in the academic sense. They’d be experts in the much more convincing sense of having gotten it wrong themselves and survived long enough to figure out why.
These wouldn’t be lectures delivered from behind polished podiums. They’d be confessions with a syllabus. Stories told by people who learned the hard way when to stop talking, how fast credit card debt compounds, how arguments can be “won” at the cost of relationships, and how tightly we tend to wrap our identities around jobs that will replace us in a week if given the chance. There would probably also be a class on moderation, which most people would assume they don’t need—right up until they realize that’s exactly why they do.
Nobody would be there because they nailed life on the first try. In fact, that would be the one disqualifier. The whole premise would be built on the understanding that wisdom is often just embarrassment with enough time to mature. There would be no grades and no final exams, because life already handles assessment pretty well on its own. The only goal would be for someone to leave thinking, Maybe I don’t need to learn that lesson the hardest way available.
Of course, I’m not actually starting One-Day Life University. There will be no website, no registration fees, and no cease-and-desist letters arriving in the mail. But the fact that the idea sticks with me says something. It suggests that most of us aren’t lacking information so much as we’re lacking perspective. We don’t need more content. We need fewer avoidable regrets.
Maybe the craziest business idea isn’t a business at all. Maybe it’s the recognition that our failures—handled honestly and shared humbly—might be the most useful credentials we ever earn.
If nothing else, I’d attend.
And if I’m being completely honest, I could probably teach a class or two.
(Still not a real university. I cannot stress that enough.)
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
