Right now, someone somewhere is avoiding the 13th floor.
An airline is skipping row 13 on their newest aircraft. A developer is numbering apartments 10, 11, 12, 14, 15—omitting 13. Brussels Airlines literally redesigned their logo to add a 14th dot because passengers complained about the original 13.
Meanwhile, I’m publishing my 13th consecutive daily blog post, and I’m embracing the number.
The Mathematics of Fear
Here’s what fascinates me about triskaidekaphobia—the fear of 13. Researchers estimate that as many as 10% of the U.S. population has a fear of the number 13, and each year the even more specific fear of Friday the 13th, known as paraskevidekatriaphobia, results in financial losses in excess of $800 million annually.
Eight hundred million dollars. Lost. Because of a number.
Not because of mathematical probability. Not because of statistical evidence. But because we’ve collectively agreed to be afraid of counting past twelve.
The Otis Elevator Company reports that 80 to 90% of the elevators it has installed in skyscrapers and large hotels do not have a 13th-floor button. Think about that—we’ve literally created architectural fiction to accommodate numerical fear.
The Origin Stories Don’t Add Up
Every culture has its explanation. In Norse mythology, the god Loki was 13th to arrive at a feast in Valhalla, where he tricked another attendee into killing the god Baldur. In Christianity, Judas, the apostle who betrayed Jesus, was the 13th guest at the Last Supper.
The supposed Code of Hammurabi omission? In reality, the omission was no more than a clerical error made by one of the document’s earliest translators who failed to include a line of text—in fact, the code doesn’t numerically list its laws at all.
Here’s the mathematical truth: “No data exists, and will never exist, to confirm that the number 13 is an unlucky number,” said Igor Radun of the Human Factors and Safety Behavior Group at the University of Helsinki’s Institute of Behavioural Sciences in Finland.
The Power of Prime
Thirteen isn’t unlucky. It’s prime.
In mathematics, prime numbers are the building blocks of all other numbers. They can’t be broken down, can’t be divided, can’t be diminished. They stand alone, indivisible.
Thirteen is the sixth prime number. It’s a Fibonacci number. It’s the sum of the squares of 2 and 3 (4 + 9 = 13). It appears in nature, in geometry, in the very fabric of mathematical reality.
In ancient cultures, the number 13 represented femininity, because it corresponded to the number of lunar (menstrual) cycles in a year (13 × 28 = 364 days).
The moon doesn’t fear thirteen. Neither should you.
The Thirteenth Floor
Consider what avoiding 13 really means:
- You’re letting fear edit reality. When buildings skip the 13th floor, they’re not eliminating it—they’re just lying about it. Floor “14” is still the 13th floor. The mathematics doesn’t change because you rename it.
- You’re giving power to nothing. A number has exactly as much power as you give it. Thirteen can’t hurt you. But believing it can? That costs the economy $800 million a year.
- You’re breaking the sequence. In mathematics, in business, in life—compound growth depends on unbroken chains. Skip a day, skip a floor, skip a number, and you break the pattern.
The Real Power in Numbers
Here’s what I believe about numbers:
- Numbers reveal truth. Analytics don’t lie. Conversion rates don’t care about superstition. ROI isn’t affected by which floor your office is on.
- Patterns create power. The Fibonacci sequence. Moore’s Law. Compound interest. The real magic in numbers comes from understanding and leveraging patterns, not avoiding them.
- Consistency compounds. Post #13 isn’t unlucky—it’s 13 steps toward building authority. It’s 13 days of keeping my promise. It’s 13 iterations of growth.
The Thirteen Club Had It Right
In the late-19th century, a New Yorker named Captain William Fowler sought to remove the enduring stigma surrounding the number 13—and particularly the unwritten rule about not having 13 guests at a dinner table—by founding an exclusive society called the Thirteen Club.
They met on the 13th. They dined with 13 guests. They walked under ladders to enter. They broke mirrors for sport.
And guess what? They thrived, because they understood something fundamental:
We create our own luck through action, not avoidance.
The Calculation That Counts
Sociocultural processes can associate bad luck with any number. When the conditions are favourable, a rumour or superstition generates its own social reality, snowballing like an urban legend as it rolls down the hill of time.
We could have chosen any number to fear.
In Japan, 9 is unlucky, probably because it sounds similar to the Japanese word for “suffering,” but I was born on the 9th of July, so for me, that’s a great number—and it’s iconic in Canada, as #9 was the number worn by Maurice “The Rocket” Richard of the Canadiens de Montréal, the oldest continuously operating professional ice hockey team worldwide, founded in 1909.
In Italy, the unfavored number is 17, which I’ll get to in my 17th post. In China, 4 sounds like “death,” but it worked for #4 Bobby Orr.
Here, though, are the calculations that actually matter:
- Fear of 13 × 0 action = 0 progress
- Embrace of 13 × daily action = compound growth
I know which equation I’m solving for.
Your Thirteenth Step
The first skyscraper, the Home Insurance Building, constructed in Chicago in 1885, was built as the regional headquarters for an insurance company and did not have a 13th floor. The Empire State Building; however, it was built with the marking of a 13th floor, and for 40 years, it stood as the tallest building in the world.
The ones who reach the highest are the ones who take every step.
So, here’s my challenge:
What’s your 13th floor? What number, what step, what milestone are you avoiding because of inherited fear?
Despite not winning the Stanley Cup since 1967, the Toronto Maple Leafs can still be proud of having won 13 championships, because in the mathematics of success, the only unlucky number is the one you skip.
Take it. Count it. Claim it.
What superstition is costing you progress? The compound effect doesn’t pause for your fears—it only rewards your consistency.
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