Perfectly Fine, If Not Certainly Adequate

A note to young leaders.

Last weekend, in an act of lazy curiosity, I turned over the doormat at home. (I know – the life I lead.)

I expected the label on the back to recite the modern liturgy: weather-resistant, ethically-sourced, perhaps an unwavering commitment to floor-covering excellence.

Instead the label described the doormat as “certainly adequate” – then warned me not to use it as a projectile, not to burden it with a gross weight exceeding 12,000 pounds, and above all not to taunt it.

We live in the age of inflated mission statements. The local sandwich shop is “reimagining nourishment”. The accounting firm is “building a more meaningful tomorrow”. Somewhere, there’s probably a manufacturer of paperclips who’s “transforming human potential through intuitive fastening solutions.”

That’s why humour is so refreshing. It tells people that you know where you sit within the cosmic order. A doormat is useful. It’s not the Magna Carta.

So take safety seriously. Take quality seriously. Take other people seriously.

But yourself?

Aim for “perfectly fine, if not certainly adequate”.