We’re not brick and mortar
Back in 2000, I had an interesting conversation with a stockbroker on a blind date. Stay with me here.
I was working in knowledge management (KM) at the time. KM captures corporate knowledge. A company must know what makes it unique in the market place, do it better than the others, and retain the know-how. Managing knowledge involves building on capabilities—its people. ‘Nough said.
So, this poor stockbroker said companies built on KM are too risky for investment.
Wha? (The likes of Google and Microsoft.) Dotcom was going gangbusters and headed towards a bubble. Knowledge was a “new thing”.
In a nutshell, his view was that you can’t liquidate people if a corporation went south. They walk out the door. Ultimately, their knowledge leaves. Apparently, he was looking out for his investors’ welfare by focusing on a corporate failure and getting investment back on liquidation of assets as a brick-and-mortar consumption resource. Whoa.
It got me thinking about people…as always. Do we invest in a person’s potential? Even if he may leave us? By invest, I mean do we see someone’s potential when we meet him? And by meet him, I mean know him. What I mean is do we feel that we know a person by his weakness and if we can come out unscathed after a loss? Or do we know a person by his merits and potential? Really feel like we know him. Do we consume him? Or do we enhance him? I want to know what a person is investing in when he deals with me.
Writing is a personal investment. It’s a free fall into potential. A leap of faith in myself. Weightless and scary. It feels like it can walk out that door. But it doesn’t because the talent comes from me and I am always me. I know me. I invest in me.
Always invest in yourself toward your goals. By invest, I mean learn and do, that then casts more future potential. The pay is that you become more you.