When I was a manager, there was something I often told my younger colleagues: “Twenty percent of your salary comes from the work and wisdom left behind by those who came before you. Sixty percent comes from the work you do today. The remaining twenty percent is payment in advance for the people you will teach and develop in the future.” The exact wording has faded with time, but the idea has stayed with me.
I was never a self-made man. Everything I learned came from someone else’s experience, advice, mistakes, and patience. If I had benefited from those who came before me, then helping those who came after me was not a choice. It was an obligation.
There was another phrase I often shared with my team—a Chinese proverb: “An awl in a bag will eventually reveal its point.” No matter how deeply an awl is hidden inside a cloth bag, its sharp tip will eventually poke through. Talent, effort, and character are much the same. And I would always add: “People who spend their lives chasing promotions and recognition often find them moving farther away. But those who focus on doing good work are often surprised to find success quietly waiting beside them.”
One experience reinforced that belief. At one point, I was expected to join the company’s strategy team. The decision had already been discussed and agreed upon at the management level. Then, unexpectedly, it was rejected during the final approval process. Years later, I learned why. An executive remembered a blunt comment I had made during a visit to one of our branches. Apparently, my honesty had left a stronger impression than I realized.
Instead of the strategy team, I was assigned to the general affairs department. Several years later, that same executive became the senior executive responsible for my department. I met him regularly for approvals and reports. He was always professional, but distant. No praise. No encouragement. No criticism. Nothing. I decided not to worry about it. Instead, I focused on my work.
Then one day, another executive told me something unexpected. At a private dinner gathering, the man had mentioned me and said, “That guy is better than I thought.” It was a simple sentence, but it stayed with me.
The more surprising moment came during an internal audit. The audit uncovered misconduct involving an executive, and disciplinary action became unavoidable. In situations like that, managers connected to the department often found themselves pulled into the fallout. According to people who were there, the same executive who had once blocked my transfer strongly defended me. The audit eventually ended with his resignation, while the managers involved were cleared of responsibility.
Looking back, I realized something important. The awl never needed to force its way out of the bag. The work spoke for itself. Over time, even someone who had once opposed me had changed his opinion.
Years after I left the company, one of my former team members called me. We exchanged greetings and talked about old times. Before hanging up, he said something that made me smile: “I still remember what you taught us about the awl in the bag.” He told me he had carried that lesson throughout his own career. He had tried to mentor younger employees the same way he had once been mentored.
At that moment, I realized that the lesson had traveled farther than I ever had. What I had received from my seniors had been passed on to my juniors. And somewhere along the way, another awl had begun to reveal its point.