A Note to Myself: The Ledger of Learning I have spent a lifetime collecting paper. Certificates, diplomas, qualifications, each one a promise, a threshold, a ticket to somewhere. And yet! The deeper truth reveals itself not in what I know, but in whom I’ve known, who I’ve listened to and who I’ve learned from. The old adage, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know”. This was not whispered gently, but rammed down my throat by elders who understood the game. I took notice. I listened. And now, within early retirement than to youth, I see the wisdom in their bluntness.
Qualifications suggest competence, not mastery. They signal that one can operate at a certain level, not that one has lived the work. Young graduates often emerge thinking they are the answer to everything, indestructible, omniscient, ready to rewrite the universe. But reality is slower, more humbling. It takes decades to become proficient in even a sliver of a profession. And the profession itself may shift, dissolve, or reinvent itself entirely before one arrives. If they knew reality, they would most likely give up?
To survive, one must be multifaceted. To thrive, one must be strategic. The paper chase is not just about accumulation, it’s about timing, relevance and knowing which cards to hold back. Employers want prestige, flexibility, and loyalty; often at a discount. They will squeeze the essence of your life, then discard you when the juice runs dry. So you learn to negotiate. You learn to withhold. You learn to keep a few pages in reserve, like a double ledger, ready to sweeten the deal when the moment is right. Some politicians will also know about this.
