“We are not what we know but what we are willing to learn.”
– Mary Catherine Bateson (1939 – 2021) American writer and cultural anthropologist.
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“When I was 16,” a regular at our weekly ‘coffee committee’ confessed recently. “I was convinced my father was the dumbest human on the planet. So out of touch I could barely tolerate sharing oxygen with him.”
We all laughed. Because we’d been down that path.
“But by the time I neared 30,” he continued, “I was astounded by how much the old man had learned in just a few years!”
We all laughed again. Because the message was clear — and it was true.
And it triggered memories with me. Of an eye-opening corporate session a few years back. Those mandatory meetings we affectionately referred to as ‘hostage situations with stale pastries.” Fluorescent lights humming louder than the presenter, and your only sane thoughts limited to that lukewarm blueberry muffin on the refreshment cart.
This one was at a gorgeous Arizona resort and featured thrilling agenda titles like “Financial Reviews” and “Insurance Open Enrollment.” But tucked away near the bottom was a mysterious, unelaborated listing that piqued collective curiosity: “The Key to Sure Success.”
“Brace yourselves for the motivational poster speech,” a cynical sales rep whispered behind me.
I tossed my head in a silent chuckle, visualizing a slideshow with soaring eagles and Comic Sans type fonts. Instead, the CEO did something genuinely revolutionary. Passing on any PowerPoint, he summoned two specific people to the front.
The first was a fresh-faced marketing graduate still possessing that unmistakable ‘new car smell’ of university life. The second was a grizzled veteran sales rep already past retirement age who successfully navigated international markets before the internet was even a thing.
Their assignment was deceptively simple. “Tell me three things about the person at the other end of the table,” the CEO instructed. “Specifically, what you hope they will contribute to our corporate success this year, wisdom you want to share with them, and things you genuinely look forward to learning from them.”
And just like that, what was originally slated as a quick, twenty-minute filler between lunch and “New Product Offerings” rapidly rolled into the highlight of the conference.
The room came alive. We weren’t just witnessing a polite, HR-approved exchange of pleasantries; we were watching a cross-generational bridge being engineered in real-time.
The digital-savvy kid with that naive ‘why not?’ energy met the veteran with the priceless perspective of ‘don’t forget why that failed back in ’98.’
You could feel ‘new and shiny’ dancing around ‘been-there-done-that’ and see a mutual face of understanding for the future.
I thought about my dad. Never the type of parent to drop unsolicited ‘Knowledge Bombs’ on me. He quietly dispensed his most profound wisdom in places like the kitchen, usually over a bedtime snack of Post Toasties.
I remembered one night pitching my need for a souped-up hot rod I had to buy. With a world-class, high-powered presentation, I explained how this vehicle would improve my life, skyrocket my social standing, and solve several ongoing global crises.
He listened patiently, finished his cereal, then spoke. “Spending your hard-earned money on that car is not a great idea,” he said calmly. “But I also know you’ll probably have to learn that lesson the same way I did—the hard way.”
And time proved him right, of course.
The ‘elephant in the room’ question loomed large with the coffee drinkers last week. Why do we make the same mistake over and over? Why must the newest models of up-and-coming business leaders have to repeat the same mistake with every generation? The ‘silent weedings’ — aka early retirement buyouts offered to seasoned veterans while favoring younger techy corporate models. Hiring managers passing over proven organizational wisdom and knowledge to fill desks with cheaper resume models. All seemingly insistent on repeating expensive mistakes looking for answers to questions knowledgeable veterans have already lived and learned.
The “when I was 16 …” coffee drinker who started the conversation broke the silence. “How about this for a motivational poster: ‘While the view is great from the mountaintop, it’s smart to make the climb with someone who already knows where the loose rocks are.’”
We all laughed one more time. Because we knew somewhere, this same conversation was taking place. One more time.
“You provide the poster next week,” I cheered in support. “And I’ll bring the blueberry muffins.”
—Leon Aldridge
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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.
© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’
A Story Worth Telling 