Don’t be a Wet Arse, is good advice.

When I was 10, I was the cleverest in my school. It’s not a brag. I just was. I was quiet. Patient. A thinker. Avoiding conflict by trying to be funny. I just got on with things.

One school day, despite excitedly reaching the playground slide first, I waited. A bigger boy approached and glared down at me. He raised his eyebrows. Strode on past me. And laughed loudly at his first-slide-of-the-day success.

In his head, he’d won.

In my head, he was a Wet Arse.

45 years later, I look back at my career where, both in businesses I’ve owned and businesses that paid me to help them, I’ve sometimes been the Wet Arse. Strutting on through, my eyebrows raised, pointing the way, moving people this way and that, opening departments, closing departments, hiring, firing, cutting and thrusting.

When really, I should have paused. Stood at the slide. Like when I was 10 years old. Back when I was in many ways cleverer than I am now. Quieter. Patienter. Thinkier.

I should remember that life’s ride is smoother and altogether more comfortable with a dry arse. So I am learning to slow down a bit. To stand at the slide. Watching. And waiting.

Don’t be a Wet Arse, is good advice.

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