My grades in high school were pretty bad. I mean, they weren’t terrible, but they certainly weren’t college material. More like junior college or any school that would admit students without a transcript.

But who could blame me? I was busy. Very busy. I had to make the best jokes in class. I knew my jokes were truly funny when the teachers would laugh. I had a rock-and-roll band that played in bars around Los Angeles, I had a job at Subway making sandwiches, and I had my own business washing cars for neighbors, cutting grass, house sitting, and other random jobs that would pay something. Anything.

But then, in some class, we were taken to the auditorium for a college fair. The military was there, too. Everyone did a presentation, and it was then and there that I decided that I wanted to go to college.

But it was already the 11th grade. And everyone told me “no” – it was far too late.

My GPA was hovering around a 2.7 or so. A rare A with several B’s and even more C’s. Sure, my high school was overcrowded. There were 50-plus kids in every class, and some had to sit on the floor as there were not enough desks. The curriculum was largely outdated, and aside from a few teachers who were there for the right reasons, the powerful United Teachers of Los Angeles union kept ineffective teachers teaching far past their expiration dates.

But none of that mattered. If I would have applied myself, my grades would have been better, and I would have been able to stand some chance to get into a somewhat decent school.

So while most people would have chosen the sensible route, which was to give up, I chose a creative route.

Because in a world full of no, creativity hears yes.

I simply didn’t accept “no.” My high school counselor would tell me “no” – you stand no chance of getting into college. My friends told me “no” – no way you’re going to college. And my teachers thought I was telling yet another joke in class.

So instead, I got creative. I chose a top university. Their requirements made me dizzy:
We only admit students with a 4.0 at a minimum.
We only admit students with a rich extracurricular history. (I had none. Other than a side hustle, washing cars, and playing music in a rock-and-roll band.)
The music school only admitted classical musicians.

So I set out to address all three requirements creatively. It was a bit clunky, somewhat naïve, but it ended up creating a path that I still use today. It is creatively thinking above reason or analytics. And it is creativity that leads to “yes” in a sea of “no.”

I called the school to interview. They asked for transcripts to be sent over. I sent over my transcripts. They said no interviews to anyone without a 4.0. So I got creative. I called them every day. Each and every day I called them and asked the admissions department for an interview. That lasted about two months. Finally, they called me back and set a date for the interview. When I came in, I wore an ill-fitting suit, had my dad tie my tie, and wore his shoes with double socks. Still, I knocked it out of the park. The interviewer told me he would give me high marks on the interview, but it still goes down to grades, participation in extracurricular activities, and the music school wanted classical musicians. Not rock-and-rollers. I thanked him profusely and left.

Then I found that the school district in Los Angeles had one college counselor who would go to a few schools each month and help students get into college. Only one because of budget cuts, I was told. So I contacted the counselor and made an appointment. She said to send over the transcript. I did. She canceled the appointment. I told her I had already interviewed at the university I was trying to get into. She rescheduled the appointment – out of curiosity, I guess. We spent most of our meeting with her telling me the word “no” in various lilts. Some were high pitched, some were staccato. Others were rapid fire. No, No, No. But still – I was creative. And I heard “yes.” I still see “yes” everywhere I look.

So I got creative on my application. Playing in a rock-and-roll band in bars in Los Angeles became concert-trained musician on my admission application. Side hustles and washing cars became emerging company founder. Telling jokes my teachers found funny became faculty favorite student. I even got some teachers to write me a recommendation. And finally, I made a demo tape showcasing my finest musical ability with borrowed equipment.

I knew I couldn’t compete with students who had been classically trained in piano since they were five, or who studied violin and who were already 1st chair at their local community orchestra. But I had one thing that they didn’t. I had creativity and grit.

Because real creativity is not about playing an instrument well or painting a great picture or dance or ballet. Real creativity is the ability to solve problems that the analytical mind alone cannot.

So against all odds, I ended up getting into the university. And I am glad to report that I am perhaps the only student in the 100+ year history of this university to get in with a 2.7 GPA. But this story isn’t about me. This story is about you. How many times have you heard “no” – from whatever it is that you want to achieve? And how many times have you succumbed to its deceitful power?

The Creator Mindset is the ultimate “yes” tool. It gives anyone the ability to learn how to think creatively to solve any problem with the mentality that nothing is undoable. Nothing is out of reach. And nothing is beyond the ability of creativity to solve.

Nir Bashan is an executive creative director/managing director with over 19 years of advertising, entertainment, and business development experience. He helps teach folks in non-creative fields how to think creatively to solve problems. He leads workshops and lectures on topics relating to The Creator Mindset. McGraw/Hill is publishing a book on The Creator Mindset that will be released in 2020. For more, visit http://www.nirbashan.com/.