11/08/2022
An old truck pulled into the yard of a sawmill in a small logging community. A tourist
complimented the logger on the quality of his load and asked how long it took him to get a load.
"Not very long," answered the logger.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and get more loads?" asked
the tourist.
The logger explained that his small load was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The tourist asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your
time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and have lunch with my wife. In the evenings, I go into our small town to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I
have a full life."
The tourist interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by logging longer every day. You can then sell the extra logs you harvest. With the extra revenue, you can buy another truck."
"And after that?" asked the logger.
"With the extra money the other truck will bring, you can buy a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trucks and equipment. Instead of selling your logs to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own mill. You can then leave this little town and move to the city, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the logger.
"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the tourist.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the tourist, smiling. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the logger.
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a small rural community in the woods, sleep late, play with your grandchildren, catch a few fish, have lunch with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."
. . . . . Know where you're going in life... you may already be there . . .
