more-recent messages, one caught his attention: a voice mail from his mother, who rarely rang him. It began calmly, saying they missed him and, whatever wrongs they might have committed against him, would he please forgive them. They needed him now; he was the only one who could save them; his brother was not good at this sort of thing. His father had become very ill because of the situation, and there were creditors hovering like vultures. She sounded as if she was beginning to cry: She didn’t understand this sort of thing very well, but she knew the situation was very grave.
The situation
. What situation? He checked earlier messages from his father. His tone was, as always, dry, the messages dictated and typed out by his secretary. There was no unnecessary information, just the basics: The family insurance business had collapsed. It had not withstood the globalcrisis. The biggest, oldest insurance firm in Southeast Asia, founded by his grandfather, was no longer. Now an investor was offering them one dollar to buy the entire company, which just a year ago was worth billions. It was humiliating. They were facing ruin. He was their only hope. Maybe the property market in China would save them. Whatever the case, he had to take over the running of the entire family business now.
One other message he checked said simply, Where are you, my son?
He turned off his BlackBerry and stared at the skyscrapers. It was after midnight, and most of the lights were off, but still the buildings glowed softly. He went to bed without drawing the curtains, gazing at the watery quality of the sky, the swell of the low rain clouds illuminated by the fading lights of the city. He tried to feel something—anything. In his head he replayed his mother’s tearful voice, cracking, weak.
We’re sorry for things we might have done
. He imagined his father, proud even in his humbled state.
But none of those images and sounds moved him. He felt nothing. As he closed his eyes, he could just make out the very tip of a skyscraper, a sharp rod stretching into the sky. It seemed fixed not only in space but in time, its metallic glint impervious to the passing of the days, months, years.
And he thought, I am free now.
HOW TO ACHIEVE
GREATNESS
G reatness is never measured purely in terms of money. You must always remember this. For history to judge a man as truly remarkable, that man has to leave a legacy more profound than a collection of Swiss bank accounts for his children. He has to enrich the world around him in a way that is permanent and
moving
.
Recently I have been thinking of ways to leave behind something meaningful to the world once I am gone. My various philanthropic efforts are well documented, but I nonetheless feel that I have not yet given enough to mankind. All my donations to charity are, I feel, ephemeral; the giving of cash to the needy is a mere Band-Aid on a gaping wound. If I were to die tomorrow, I would be known primarily as a visionary entrepreneur and perhaps a brilliant motivator. Occasionally at public events, someone will realize who I am and insist on bathing me in compliments, which embarrasses me, for I have always scrupulously avoided the public eye. Adulation is a funny thing. Most people seek it in vain, often unconsciously, from their spouses, children, professional colleagues, or—the ultimate dream—from the public at large. To be admired by people who don’t know you would seem to be the summit of human achievement. Yet those of us who are in this position will know that to be the center of attraction in this way is not only distasteful, it is empty.
Once and only once, I gave an interview. I was young and just beginning to make waves with a succession of audacious acquisitions. I was also, I admit, slightly prone to vanity in those days. My interviewer, a young woman froma respected local newspaper, peppered me with banal questions about my business strategy and then probed me with inappropriate
The situation
. What situation? He checked earlier messages from his father. His tone was, as always, dry, the messages dictated and typed out by his secretary. There was no unnecessary information, just the basics: The family insurance business had collapsed. It had not withstood the globalcrisis. The biggest, oldest insurance firm in Southeast Asia, founded by his grandfather, was no longer. Now an investor was offering them one dollar to buy the entire company, which just a year ago was worth billions. It was humiliating. They were facing ruin. He was their only hope. Maybe the property market in China would save them. Whatever the case, he had to take over the running of the entire family business now.
One other message he checked said simply, Where are you, my son?
He turned off his BlackBerry and stared at the skyscrapers. It was after midnight, and most of the lights were off, but still the buildings glowed softly. He went to bed without drawing the curtains, gazing at the watery quality of the sky, the swell of the low rain clouds illuminated by the fading lights of the city. He tried to feel something—anything. In his head he replayed his mother’s tearful voice, cracking, weak.
We’re sorry for things we might have done
. He imagined his father, proud even in his humbled state.
But none of those images and sounds moved him. He felt nothing. As he closed his eyes, he could just make out the very tip of a skyscraper, a sharp rod stretching into the sky. It seemed fixed not only in space but in time, its metallic glint impervious to the passing of the days, months, years.
And he thought, I am free now.
HOW TO ACHIEVE
GREATNESS
G reatness is never measured purely in terms of money. You must always remember this. For history to judge a man as truly remarkable, that man has to leave a legacy more profound than a collection of Swiss bank accounts for his children. He has to enrich the world around him in a way that is permanent and
moving
.
Recently I have been thinking of ways to leave behind something meaningful to the world once I am gone. My various philanthropic efforts are well documented, but I nonetheless feel that I have not yet given enough to mankind. All my donations to charity are, I feel, ephemeral; the giving of cash to the needy is a mere Band-Aid on a gaping wound. If I were to die tomorrow, I would be known primarily as a visionary entrepreneur and perhaps a brilliant motivator. Occasionally at public events, someone will realize who I am and insist on bathing me in compliments, which embarrasses me, for I have always scrupulously avoided the public eye. Adulation is a funny thing. Most people seek it in vain, often unconsciously, from their spouses, children, professional colleagues, or—the ultimate dream—from the public at large. To be admired by people who don’t know you would seem to be the summit of human achievement. Yet those of us who are in this position will know that to be the center of attraction in this way is not only distasteful, it is empty.
Once and only once, I gave an interview. I was young and just beginning to make waves with a succession of audacious acquisitions. I was also, I admit, slightly prone to vanity in those days. My interviewer, a young woman froma respected local newspaper, peppered me with banal questions about my business strategy and then probed me with inappropriate
Similar Books
