The Hole-y Grail of Truth

Why Life, Bagels, and Elevator Pitches Are Better with Gaps

You know what’s brilliant about bagels and vadas? The hole. Without it, you’re left with something undercooked and downright disappointing.

And that got me thinking. Why not apply the same principle to truth? Add a hole, make it lighter, and easier to chew on. After all, isn’t that why we’re asked, “Is it the truth, the hole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

When I was a kid, my dad, Rotary Club’s poster boy, had this plaque on his desk with the “Four-Way Test.” It’s supposed to be some sacred code of truth, integrity, and all that jazz. Naturally, as a budding comedian (or household pest), I’d point at it and ask, “But Dad, where’s the fifth way—making it believable?”

Fast forward to adulthood, and irony of ironies, I joined Rotary myself. And every time I saw that plaque, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Life had taught me that following the Four-Way Test to the letter is like trying to draw a straight line on a bumpy road. Truth, my friends, needs some wiggle room. So, I devised my own version: let the truth fly in four directions and see which one sticks. Call it bending reality; I call it adaptive storytelling.

Speaking of bending, let’s talk about **the elevator pitch**, the holy grail of corporate survival. It’s the ultimate test of wit, charm, and speed. 

Back in the day, you’d have a leisurely ride up to the 20th floor to pitch your genius idea. Now? Lifts are faster than a Formula 1 car on a caffeine high. You step in, the doors close, and before you can say, “Hi, I’m…,” your audience is already at their floor. 

Take the Burj Khalifa. That elevator zips up at 10 meters per second. By the time you start your “disruptive innovation” pitch, you’re already at floor 124, and your prospect’s ears just popped. 

Elevators aren’t just speed demons. They’re the foe of salespeople everywhere. Most of us avoid them anyway.

The health nuts? They say it’s for cardio, but we know it’s to dodge small talk with Janet from HR, and her six floors of unsolicited pet stories.

But salespeople? They’ve got a genuine gripe. Elevators rob them of the precious time they need to deliver their *pitch of the century.* 

And then there’s the quirks. Cell signals vanish the second those doors slide shut, leaving your prospect blissfully undistracted or desperately pressing buttons to escape.

And if the elevator gets stuck mid-floor? Forget the pitch. Now it’s a battle over who hits the emergency button without looking like they’re panicking.

Sure, modern systems like Ebara can save you, gently lowering you to the nearest floor. A blessing, right? Wrong. Because when those doors open, the last thing you want to see is another salesman with a grin wider than his product catalogue.

So, here’s the takeaway: next time someone corners you with a pitch, just ask, “Is this the truth, the hole truth, or just your bagel-shaped truth?” If nothing else, it’ll buy you a moment to breathe. And hey, with a little luck, the elevator will ding before they answer.

And you? Well, just remember: if someone asks for the truth, give it to them with a hole. It’s easier to swallow, less filling, and—bonus—always cooked evenly.