Amateur Philosophers
“Whatcha got?” boomed my boss as he rounded the corner.
“Protein shake,” I responded. “Bananas, blueberries, peanut butter, almond milk, protein. I brought it from home.”
I was tired after a tough morning workout, and I wasn’t looking forward to the day ahead, largely to be filled with conversations like these.
“Ah, you better be careful with that almond milk,” he warned like a know-it-all neighbor. “I read some of ‘em can be pretty bad for ya.”
As well meaning as he was, I couldn’t help but see the irony. A middle-aged, fudge filled manager lecturing a young, fit guy on the nutritional quality of a healthy breakfast.
He had a decade of professional experience on me. He had a million in net worth on me. He had operational chops I’d never match.
But he chose to lecture me on the one thing I had on him—health and fitness.
Funny how that happens.
I was reading Meditations the other day and found a powerful passage.
Marcus Aurelius was writing about the traits he admired in others, and this one struck me:
His respect for people who practiced philosophy—at least those who were sincere about it. But without denigrating the others—or listening to them.
To me, that means you should only take advice from people who have achieved what you want to achieve, but you should respect everyone, even when they give unsolicited advice they have no business giving.
That’s what I did with my boss.
I thanked him for the advice and kept making my smoothies with almond milk.
I’ve done this a thousand times.
From people giving me advice on real estate who had never owned a property to another boss who told me I needed to buy more expensive clothes if I wanted to advance in consulting.
I didn’t ask for the real estate advice.
I didn’t want to advance in consulting.
I didn’t take advice from people who weren’t doing what I wanted to do. I politely thanked them and kept doing what I was doing.
And although Marcus Aurelius wrote those words thousands of years ago, they fit hand in glove with some of the best business advice we hear today.
David Senra of Founder’s Podcast always says, “bad boys move in silence.”
In Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power, rule three is, “conceal your intentions.”
If you follow those rules, you’re also following Meditations. Respect those who practice philosophy. Don’t listen to those who don’t. But don’t denigrate them.
If you can politely say, “thanks for the advice,” even when you don’t mean it, you’re moving in silence. You’re concealing your intentions. You’re disregarding stupid information without making an enemy—or giving away your next move.
Then I thought of Charlie Munger’s famous saying, “Invert. Always invert.”
If you want to lose the respect of others, offer advice in areas you know nothing about.
I realized the lines from Meditations are as cautionary as they are prescriptive. A valuable reminder to say less, even when tempted to say more.
My victories in the gym don't make me a leadership expert. My success in real estate doesn’t make me a private equity investor. My knowledge of podcasting doesn’t make me a music producer.
If I don’t have experience and lessons that directly apply to the situation at hand, my advice is neither valuable nor desired.
The last thing I want to be is the blabbing boss with a captive audience.
I want to earn my successes, learn from those who succeeded before me, and pass my knowledge to those coming after me.
If it’s relevant.
If it’s desired.
It’s amazing how much I could learn from two sentences written two thousand years ago.
Relentlessly seek expert advice. Politely ignore amateur advice. Respectfully refrain from offering unqualified advice.
A few great rules to live by.
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash
