Saturday, August 23, 2025

"The Seven words that will save your career"!

 

The Seven Words That Saved My Career: Lessons from a Life of Gracious Teachers

Reflections on learning, humility, and the power of “I don’t know, but I’ll find out”


We all have teachers who shape us—not just in the classroom, but in the winding corridors of our lives. Their lessons arrive in unexpected moments, often at times of loss, transition, or challenge. For me, those lessons began early, after my mother passed away when I was just 13. In the vacuum her absence left, my grandmother—Mama—stepped in, offering not just comfort but wisdom, the kind that roots itself deeply and quietly in one’s character.

I’ve written before about Mama’s “Tobacco Plug” and the story of the “Turkey Bag,” pivotal moments that ignited my passion for legacy and storytelling. But she wasn’t the only source of wisdom in my youth. My Aunt Lorraine, my mother’s sister, imparted what would become known in our family as “Aunt Lorraine’s Law,” a principle that’s guided me through countless decisions, both personal and professional.

As I grew older, my list of teachers expanded beyond family, finding new mentors in the workplace. Throughout my career, I was fortunate to work under remarkable leaders who were, above all, remarkable teachers—many of whom I’ve honored in previous essays. One of the most widely read essays on this blog comes features lessons from a former CEO of The Coca Cola Company, (https://fylegacy.blogspot.com/2009/05/teachable-point-of-view.html) and another often quoted story comes from my first boss at Kimberly-Clark (https://fylegacy.blogspot.com/2009/06/authenticity-foundation-of-leadership.html).  But one story, from my time as an MBA student at Vanderbilt University, stands out with particular clarity today.

It was the fall of 1984. I was in my second year, focused more on marketing and sales than on accounting, which had always seemed an opaque science to me. That semester, I found myself enrolled in Intermediate Accounting, taught by the inimitable Professor Tim DuBois. Now, “character” is too mild a word for Tim; he was a Renaissance man, as comfortable on stage as he was in the lecture hall—a published songwriter and a rising star in Nashville’s music industry. He’d even penned the hit song “Love in the First Degree” for the band Alabama.



One Tuesday morning in October—October 9th, to be precise, the day after the 1984 CMA Awards—Professor DuBois arrived in the lecture hall still wearing his tuxedo from the night before. Alabama had just won Entertainer of the Year, and it was obvious Tim hadn’t gone home to change, or perhaps even to sleep. He tossed his overcoat onto the overhead projector and, leaning heavily against it, confessed that the morning’s lesson would be brief. The hangover, he admitted, was pending.



But what followed was a masterclass in humility and professional wisdom. “There are seven words that will save your career,” he drawled in his distinctive Oklahoma accent. “‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’” We leaned in, captivated. He went on to explain that at some point, each of us would be confronted with a difficult question or a daunting task, and we’d feel compelled to bluff our way through. That impulse, he warned, was a career-ending trap. Far better to admit our ignorance and commit to seeking the answer.

The lesson lasted barely ten minutes, but its impact endures. Professor DuBois gathered his things and headed out, presumably for a well-earned nap. I have since shared his words with hundreds of colleagues and mentees. In fact, I was reminded of them just last week. Over dinner with an investment banker, I fielded a series of intricate questions about a company’s balance sheet. I handled most with ease, but soon hit a wall—a detail escaped me. The echo of Professor DuBois’s voice rang in my ears, and I found myself saying, “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Not only did the honesty strengthen our conversation, but it also offered a teachable moment: I recounted the story of that fateful morning in 1984, passing the lesson forward.

The banker, far too young to remember that distant October, was grateful. He planned to share the story with his own team. And so, the wisdom of Professor DuBois continues to ripple outward, shaping generations in industries far from his own.

As you consider your own journey, reflect on your “teachers”—those who have nudged, guided, and inspired you along the way. Find fresh ways to honor them. Share their lessons, not just for nostalgia’s sake, but so their wisdom might light the path for others, as it once did for you.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can say isn’t “I know,” but “I’ll find out.” In those seven words lies the humility to learn and the courage to grow—a lesson for us all, no matter where our story began.

 

Tuesday, August 12, 2025

The change ( and progress) signified with the ending of "Dial-up" Internet

Change Is Certain, Progress Is Not: Reflections on Four Decades of Technological and Cultural Transformation

From Acoustic Couplers to Artificial Intelligence—A Personal Journey

The news that AOL, once "America On Line," will soon retire its dial-up service may seem like a minor blip in today's digital landscape. In reality, this quiet ending is a poignant milestone in a vast parade of technological evolution—one that I have had the privilege of witnessing, and at times being bewildered by, over the course of my adult life and 40+ year business career. As I approach my 64th birthday, reflections abound: not only on inventions and obsolescence, but also on the intricate dance between change and progress, and how we find meaning and direction within the whirlwind.

AOL's Farewell: The End of a Digital Era

In about a month, AOL will cease offering dial-up internet access—a service that was, for a time, the very lifeblood of the online world. Dial-up, with its iconic screech and hiss, connected a generation to the vastness of cyberspace. Today, less than 0.1% of U.S. households still use it, but its departure serves as a gentle requiem not just for a technology, but for an era marked by anticipation and discovery. For many, the phrase "You've got mail!" is not just nostalgia; it's a reminder of simpler, slower, more deliberate connections.

This moment has prompted me to look back—not only at AOL, but at the sweeping revolutions that have defined my professional and personal journey. These are not merely changes in gadgets or services; they are shifts in how we communicate, work, learn, and dream.

The Pace and Paradox of Change

When I started college in 1979, the landscape was unrecognizable by today's standards. Imagine embarking on higher education without cell phones, personal computers, the internet, social media, email, text messaging, ride-sharing apps, and the myriad conveniences that now define everyday life. These things simply did not exist. The notion that, in 2025, we carry in our pockets devices more powerful than the mainframes of yesteryear would have seemed like science fiction.

Throughout the decades, I have often remarked: "Change is certain, progress is not." These words echo truer with each passing year. While the pace of innovation is exhilarating—at times, mind-boggling—it is not always accompanied by corresponding improvements in quality of life, equity, or happiness. There is a fundamental distinction between change—the ceaseless evolution of tools, systems, and paradigms—and progress, which is the meaningful, positive transformation of our human experience.

The Mainframe and the Modem: Early Days of Computing

One story from my college years illustrates both the marvel and the madness of early computing. In a statistics class, we were required to master regression analysis, starting with the basics—working out the "Least Squares Method" with pencil and paper. But the real magic happened with SPSS, a software package still used today (now as "IBM SPSS").




Back then, using SPSS was a logistical adventure. We typed our data into a keyboard equipped with an acoustic coupler. After programming our inputs, we would dial a touch-tone phone, listen for the static handshake, and nestle the receiver into the coupler, connecting us to a mainframe computer at Ohio State—over a hundred miles away. Our batch projects were submitted to run whenever mainframe time became available, often overnight. The following day, we would check back for results—or, more often than not, to discover a keystroke error that required another cycle of patience and repetition.

It is literally astonishing to compare that ritual with the present. Today, I can run a regression analysis on my smartphone, in seconds. What once took hours or days is now compressed into moments. This is, without question, a triumph of both change and progress.

Witness to Revolutions

My career has been shaped by a dizzying succession of revolutions—plural with intent. From analog to digital, from local to global, from scarcity of information to its overwhelming abundance. Each wave has brought new tools, opportunities, and challenges.

Consider the workplace: Once, communication meant memos, phone calls, and face-to-face meetings. Now, email, instant messaging, and video conferences have redefined collaboration, but also introduced new distractions and anxieties. Financial services, manufacturing, healthcare, education—no sector has been immune to the relentless march of innovation.

Yet, amid this acceleration, questions persist: Are we more productive, or merely busier? More connected, or more distracted? Does each new technology bring us closer together, or isolate us within our curated digital bubbles? The answers are nuanced, and the relationship between change and progress is anything but linear.

The Advent of Artificial Intelligence: A New Frontier

Today, we stand on the cusp of yet another technological revolution—artificial intelligence. The headlines are filled with speculation, hope, and fear about AI's impact on jobs, business, industry, and society at large. Prognosticators abound, offering visions both utopian and dystopian.

I do not claim to be an "early adopter," but neither am I a Luddite. AI, to me, is simply the latest set of tools to be explored, understood, and harnessed. I have begun to incorporate AI into my work—using it to edit and enhance my writing, to conduct advanced searches, to learn and to question. I am acutely aware that I am in the earliest days of this journey, just as unsure and awed as I was in front of that acoustic-coupler-equipped keyboard all those years ago.

The difference, perhaps, is that I now have the wisdom to appreciate both the promise and the pitfalls of new technology. I know that no tool is inherently good or bad; its value lies in how it is used, and for what purpose. Change is certain, but progress must be pursued, shaped, and, at times, defended.

Finding Progress Amidst Change

So, as AOL prepares to fade into the tapestry of history, I am reminded that the true measure of any technological revolution lies not in its novelty, but in its capacity to serve human flourishing. The tools we invent and adopt should expand our possibilities, deepen our connections, and enrich our lives—not merely accelerate our pace or multiply our distractions.

As I move toward another milestone birthday, I do not wish to be absent from the journey ahead. I want to remain curious, adaptable, and engaged—to keep questioning how each wave of change can be transformed into genuine progress. The revolutions of the past forty years have been incredible, and those still to come will be no less so. My hope is that we all find ways to steer these changes toward a future that is not just different, but better.

In the end, perhaps that is the greatest lesson of a life spent amid technological upheaval: that while change is certain, progress is not—but it is always within our reach, if we are willing to seek it out, shape it, and share it.


postscript:  you might notice a change in the font/layout/use of color in the essay above vs some of my past postings.... yes indeed an outcome of me using an AI tool to take my original essay and suggest edits based on grammar and on techniques to help readability on a blog platform... a helpful tool indeed!