So, I ran into a great friend today. She's someone who has meant a great deal to me over the years and from whom I have learned so much.
It was a rushed reunion, but in catching up a little bit, it wasn't long before we were both expressing a similar concern about the direction that we all sometimes try to take in business, and in life. Today, we happened to mostly be talking about business.
I've talked about expansion and growth before. I know that the business-minded person would argue that if you aren't growing, you're dying, but sometimes I wonder how worthwhile it is to outgrow your britches. Many would argue that if you are growing, just buy bigger britches, but at a point, getting infinitely bigger leads to one result--being unable to lift yourself up without the rescue of someone else's crane, and removing the front door.
As a registered veterinary technician, I am required to earn a certain number of continuing education credits every year to maintain my licenses. I invariably attend a large conference to get as much bang for my buck as possible. Along with days filled with lectures on everything from dentistry to how to calculate cardiac output, there is a giant hall filled with nothing but people who hope I have the power of the purse in my practice, and that I will go back to my hospital and strong arm my veterinarian into purchasing either a lot of something, or something really big and expensive. The joke is always on them--I work for a large company and have nothing to do with any decisions about purchasing. The fun thing about this giant hall is that in the effort to get my attention and "influence" over my doctors, these folks are trying to give me leaflets, samples, pens, magnets and any number of different things--oh and bags, lots of bags.
The funny thing is, I remember the first years of attending this conference. To me, every pen, magnet, leaflet and squishy stress heart was absolutely necessary. By the end of each day, the strap marks (from all the bags) cut deeply into my shoulders, and I was in need of massage, chiropractic or osteopathic therapy from carrying all the crap around. In time, I thought I'd solve the problem simply by getting the CD Rom version of the proceedings book instead of the hard copy, but soon realized I just had to take less stuff.
This many years later, I still see the amateurs struggling with multiple bags of stuff that they had to have. Somewhere in the middle are the really hardcore attendees who bring the rolling luggage in which to cart everything around. Over the years, I have developed a strategy. I get rid of as many paper products as possible before I even start. After assessing the "valuable" crap that I could potentially pick up, I have greatly narrowed the amount of paper I have to carry around.
Today, I take great pride in the fact that I was able to limit myself to pamphlets about only one product, and the rest of the stuff I ended up with was ultimately very cool. I have two new books, four T-shirts, a new ball cap, dog slippers and three stuffed cats (yes, I really did need three). I did not pick up one pen, magnet or squishy organ!
My left shoulder still hurts like a mother (and not the one who made you cookies after school) and I am sure I still have things I really don't need.
It's natural to want more, but what if when you get more, you are able to hold onto less? I was pressed for time this morning, so I started the day off without a tote bag, and I didn't have time to grab anything to take notes on or with. Luckily, my writing portfolio was in the car, and a pen was handy. My writing portfolio has no shoulder straps. At lunch time, I found myself in a line with a book in one hand, and my writing portfolio in the other. There was no third hand for me to pick up and fill my plate, let alone grab a drink. I managed, but it was pretty tough. When I'd been sitting through the spiel that earned me the book, I hadn't considered how I was going to carry it and manage other things without a bag--all I had cared about was getting that damn book.
I think we often neglect to look beyond the horizon when something seemingly wonderful is being dangled right in front of us. In business, what could possibly be the downside to being offered a way to have more buying power with less of our own capital and effort? In life, what could be the downside to being offered an adjustable rate mortgage that allows us to buy more house than we can afford to pay for right now?
When we look at our current global economic crisis, much of it is the direct result of someone wanting more--much more. In many cases, this "more" has been at the expense of someone else less able to recover from the sacrifices needed to get this "more."
In the American automobile industry, the major car companies got tunnel vision and poured all of their resources into producing the larger, gas guzzling SUVs that were flying off of car lots. (And to think that many of us are outraged by the broken promise that we would be in flying cars by now. ha-ha) It never occurred to them that anything could change, and they were so big, that like the Titanic, they couldn't steer away from the iceberg of unrest in the Middle East and rising gas prices. Who wants to drive a tank when they can't afford to fill the tank's tank? In the quest to get more, more, more money, right away, the industry was brought to its knees.
The American automotive industry lost touch with its market because it was only focused on the easy money. It almost literally lost sight of itself. The banking industry suffered a similar fate, though because of its ability to bring everything crashing down on everyone, it hasn't met with many of the consequences most of us wish it had.
The quest for more often leads us down a primrose path. The problem with primrose bushes--they have thorns, so I imagine the paths do as well. It's hard sometimes to weigh the pros and cons of opportunity. When having more and being bigger supersedes all other goals, we have to realize in that place of more and bigger, there will inevitably be more distance between ourselves and the people and things that helped us achieve those goals. Our intentions may have been great, but in giving up some of what we have built and held so dear, we can't hold onto the things we were hoping to share--there's not enough room in the bag, and we only have so many hands.
When we find ourselves suffering the aftershocks of the giant expansion crashing around us, we're left to remember, with nostalgia, how simple and manageable everything was before. We remember that we were building things together and sharing the load. Everyone carried a small portion, so everyone felt a sense of ownership in the endeavor.
A small portion...with larger, sometimes giant heart.
http://youtu.be/F0FBi5Rv1ho
Well said Sammi.
ReplyDeleteIt is amazing, the quantity of crap we used to believe was necessary. When in reality, we can and should do with much less.