One afternoon on a visit to Mexico, a CEO decided to have a fresh seafood meal. He goes to the docks in town and finds a man unloading his fishing boat with his morning haul. He buys a great looking fish and starts talking to the fisherman, asking him about his life.
"Well," the fisherman said. “Every day I fish for a few hours in the morning, then I eat lunch with my family, take a siesta, visit with friends, have dinner and go to bed.”
As the ideas sparked in his head, the CEO replied, going through strategy, "if you fished for a few more hours every day you could buy a bigger boat! Then you could manage a team of fishermen and buy more boats and then move to the United States to manage your company. Then you could build your business until you can sell it to a major company and retire!”
The fisherman ponders that for a second. “What would I do after that?”
Enthusiastically, the CEO responded, “It would be great! You could move to a tropical village. You could fish for a few hours, eat lunch with your family, take a siesta, visit your friends, have dinner and then go to bed at peace.”
The fisherman looked the CEO in his eyes. "Do I not do that already?"
All my life, I've always thought that I was the CEO. I never understood the drab, monotonous life of waiting and fishing. I was ambitious, on the get go, looking for the next goal, making my way. I don't know if it's the mark of maturity, or the accumulation of experiences and exposure that has made me realise, with a little dash of shock, that I finally understand the fisherman. That I finally find value in the small things, in happiness, in pleasure, comfort and contentment, the essence of things materialistic success can rarely buy. This isn't some stand against the idealized western version of success - it is still a very lucrative and beneficial pursuit. I am only stating that at this time, I am immersed in the appreciation of my current state. It is a comforting thought.
"Well," the fisherman said. “Every day I fish for a few hours in the morning, then I eat lunch with my family, take a siesta, visit with friends, have dinner and go to bed.”
As the ideas sparked in his head, the CEO replied, going through strategy, "if you fished for a few more hours every day you could buy a bigger boat! Then you could manage a team of fishermen and buy more boats and then move to the United States to manage your company. Then you could build your business until you can sell it to a major company and retire!”
The fisherman ponders that for a second. “What would I do after that?”
Enthusiastically, the CEO responded, “It would be great! You could move to a tropical village. You could fish for a few hours, eat lunch with your family, take a siesta, visit your friends, have dinner and then go to bed at peace.”
The fisherman looked the CEO in his eyes. "Do I not do that already?"
All my life, I've always thought that I was the CEO. I never understood the drab, monotonous life of waiting and fishing. I was ambitious, on the get go, looking for the next goal, making my way. I don't know if it's the mark of maturity, or the accumulation of experiences and exposure that has made me realise, with a little dash of shock, that I finally understand the fisherman. That I finally find value in the small things, in happiness, in pleasure, comfort and contentment, the essence of things materialistic success can rarely buy. This isn't some stand against the idealized western version of success - it is still a very lucrative and beneficial pursuit. I am only stating that at this time, I am immersed in the appreciation of my current state. It is a comforting thought.
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