I have not watched “RENO 911.” However, I’ve seen a few clips from the show, and a particularly funny one comes to mind.
Two officers are standing in the doorway of a wedding banquet and eventually a man walks up to them — the father of the bride, presumably: “Just do it quietly, not in front of everybody, alright?” His face is downcast, arms stretched forward, ready for the inevitable arrest.
“You know what?” the officer says. “Not today. You kept your word, you came back to us. We’re not going to arrest you.”
The man laughs, hugs both officers and insists on giving them food as a sign of his gratitude.
The punchline? “I tell you, man, Italian weddings, you just go, you stand in the back,” one officer says to the other. “Pretty soon, some guy comes up: ‘Hey, I didn’t do it. Please, if I could have a chance.’ I’ve been doing this for three days. Works every time.”
What kind of decisions lead to this kind of wracked guilt, this sense of impending doom? Better yet, what kinds of decisions can we make to avoid stress, anxiety and pain?
Perhaps the attitude is best encapsulated by Warren Buffet’s pithy quote: “When forced to choose, I will not trade even a night’s sleep for the chance of extra profits.”
I’d like to propose a simple idea: The best businessman is not the one who makes the most money. It is the one who maintains his humanity.
The temptation can often be to prioritize easily quantifiable metrics for success and prosperity: $10 is objectively more than $5, and in order to retire, pay for your children’s college or buy a house, you have to have money. As much as it might make some things easier, the global economy cannot operate on pixie dust and unicorn tears.
But the question is not whether success in business might be related to the profitability and financial prosperity of a given company — the standard purpose of a company is to “maximize shareholders’ wealth” — the question is if this is the only definition of business success. To succeed in business, and life in general, we must know what the purpose (or, as Aristotle calls it, the “end”) is. After all, it does not matter how fast you can swim if you’re running the Boston Marathon.
This concept is called teleology, which aims to discover the purpose of a thing or event, as opposed to its cause.
To be clear, teleology has consumed entire lives of some philosophers; I do not purport to solve some of the greatest questions of life as an armchair philosopher writing for a collegiate business review.
That said, the first step to win a race is to recognize you’re in one. If you’re trying to be a good painter, it helps to know what a painting is. For our purposes, to run a good business, it helps to know what good businesses look like.
The concept of the “ideal” business might be entirely dependent upon each individual’s priorities, but perhaps there are some general guiding principles that could begin to paint a picture of the ideal. Buffet’s aforementioned maxim regarding his sleep habits, for instance, could be of use.
His priority of sleep over profits seems rather counterintuitive, especially coming from the “Oracle of Omaha.” How is it that one of the most brilliant investors to ever have graced the Earth would argue for something so mundane? What is the relationship between sleep and profit, and how can he prioritize one over the other while still being one of the most revered investors of all time?
I could speculate, or we could see if he has issued any other wisdom. For instance:
“I never attempt to make money on the stock market. I buy on the assumption that they could close the market the next day and not reopen it for five years.”
“Our favorite holding period is forever.”
An image begins to form: Buffet does not deign to look into the future, nor does he try to “game” the market. He attempts to buy “a wonderful company at a fair price” instead of “a fair company at a wonderful price.” Investing is not a get-rich-quick scheme. It’s about taking the opportunity to become a shareholder in some brilliant companies and benefiting from their success.
This brings us back to teleology. Buffet has been able to capture unusual returns for many reasons, among them luck and chance. However, it is also clear that his strategy and purpose in investing has been consistent, and he has not aimed for profits alone. To be sure, “wonderful” companies tend to be profitable, but profits do not seem to be Buffet’s primary metric for business success.
When discussing Apple — one of his largest holdings — he did not cite their $62 billion cash position. He also didn’t reference its $57-billion profit in 2022. Instead, he said, “If you’re an Apple user and somebody offers you $10,000 but the only proviso is that they’ll take away your iPhone and you’ll never be able to buy another, you’re not gonna take it.”
In other words, Apple makes a good phone.
So, when Mr. Buffet is selecting companies that would make suitable investments, he’s looking for one with a product or service that is truly spectacular. Apple, Bank of America, Chevron, Coca-Cola, American Express — these companies have changed the way humans spend, communicate and consume. Yes, they have been tremendously profitable, but Buffet’s method seems to suggest that the best way to find profits is to aim for the good company first.
The question to ask, then, is what is the aim of business? What is its purpose? Aim for profits, and you might get them, but at what cost? Aim for strong, solid, “wonderful” companies, and you could find yourself with both profits and a good company.
How can we apply this principle to a fledgling career?
For starters, do good work, regardless of whether you’re specifically paid for it. Your reputation is a precious resource, and once sullied, it can be extremely hard to recover. So, when you’re working on a project, remember that people will associate you with the quality of your work. Develop a good reputation early and do everything in your power to maintain it.
Be a go-getter. Every company, in every industry, in any time, has always needed people who were willing to roll up their sleeves and do the work no one else wanted to do. When a team needs some grunt work done, cheerfully volunteer for it. Why? Because you will come to be known as someone with a willingness to solve problems, and regardless of the circumstances, problem-solvers will always be in high demand.
Find out the purpose of your work (and it better not be money). The average American will spend more than 90,000 hours working in his entire life. Don’t waste it. If you would be embarrassed to tell your children what you do for a living, or would regret your career on your deathbed, find a new career. Many people work countless hours trying to increase their own standard of living, maximize personal wealth or squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of life. This is the great cruel irony: As long as you’re looking for your own happiness, you’ll never find it.
The best money you’ll ever spend is the money you give away. If you want any kind of happiness that lasts, buy your friend lunch, get your dad the record he’s been wanting or surprise your mom with some flowers.
What most people really want are the things money can’t buy: belonging, community, acceptance and admiration. So, if you want to be admired, be admirable. If you want community, extend it to others. If you want to belong, make other people belong. You could spend your whole life aiming for one more dollar, for one more promotion, for a slightly better car, and lay on your deathbed bemoaning the dearth of comforting family and friends. Or, you could be more kind than required, more gracious than demanded, and more generous than you can afford.
Let’s go back to the “RENO 911” story. Is more wealth worth constant fear? Is a little more success worth nagging guilt? Are profits worth a good night’s sleep?
Some of the world’s most successful, most wealthy, most brilliant investors seem to think that, at a certain point, enough is enough. Maybe a lovely meal with a good friend is worth more than a few more points on a test. Maybe there are things more important than a few more dollars.
Maybe — just maybe — your life is more precious than the number in your bank account, or the title next to your name.
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