Feeling tiny
Lately, all the big talks in global affairs are making me feel—for lack of a better word—puny.
I pace around the house, a mug of lukewarm tea in hand, asking myself one question:
“So, how big is my part in this?”
The answer is a resounding: very little.
Very little is not the same as nothing, like zero ≠ null.
We, who play very little part in moving the world forward, are still in the equation. We are the subatomic particles of the giant enterprises: corporations and governments that get all the credit (and backlash) for keeping us alive.
But being alive is not necessarily equal to living.
As I take another sip of now bitter and cold tea, the second question pops:
“So, how can we stay alive and live?”
I bet the big tech bosses are asking the same. We’re not that different after all, Jeff Bezos and I (except I always end up buying too much or too little pizza for the team).
Ok, maybe we are different—approximately a 221 billion dollar gap. Yet, I assume that we fundamentally want the same for our company: to stay alive and live.
Jeff has a bit more options to keep his company alive. To be fair, his definition of living is also different from mine. I don’t need that big of a yacht. I would be happy with an Amel 50 and an Amazon Prime subscription (which I recently canceled due to budget constraints).
The monthly expenses in my company could not buy half a slice of pizza for each employee at Jeff’s company, but part of those expenses go to him. If Jeff used any of that money to buy, let’s say, a LEGO set from Denmark, then a portion of that would go back as tax that keeps the train running to take me to work where I earn the money that I pay Jeff.
Subatomic particles in the equation.
That’s why we should stay alive and live. We matter in the bigger scheme of things.
Keeping a small tech company alive is simple, but not easy. Simple because all businesses are alike: produce a product that people buy, whether that’s a bar of soap, service or software. Difficult for the same reason that all businesses are similar: we are dependent on people who form their choices over a cup of tea, based on how they feel, typically about global affairs.
We are all customers and workers; we are people who get wary of the world. And that’s bad for business.
How to overcome this difficulty? That’s where businesses differ. If there were a universal fix, all businesses could stay alive.
My tiny tech company is alive by choice. I start my mornings choosing to find a way to stay in the game—which could sometimes mean cutting down on pizza and giving less money to Jeff. It could also mean doing our best to help wary people feel a little bit better, hoping they will buy in a good mood.
When the day comes when our choices no longer matter, when it’s completely out of our hands, then I know it’s time for this subatomic particle to change.
But even if that happens, one thing will remain constant: living will always be my choice, and that’s what makes business different from life.