Our 32nd edition has arrived. Its theme – obsessions.
Lately, I’ve been wondering if my obsession is keeping this thing alive.
A while back, I delved into Simon Sinek’s interpretation of James Carse’s work on 'infinite games’. To sum it up, their theory suggests that if we view the world as a finite game – like football or tennis, where there are defined players, set rules and clear winners and losers – we limit our growth potential. But, if we see the world as an infinite game, where new players continually enter, some exit and the rules are always evolving, our mindset shifts. We start to adapt, constantly realigning our direction, our ‘North Star’, rather than focusing solely on defeating others.
I’ve thought about this concept a lot as I internally review the many interactions I’ve had with local businesses in the past couple of years, particularly through and adjacent to the pandemic. Many of them have used the term “the business failed” about their (or others') ventures. That word – failure – carries a heavy weight.
“When the business ends, it feels like a part of them is ending too.”
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Why do we frame business closures this way? I think about my sporting heroes who are celebrated when their careers end. In music and the arts, careers often seem to extend indefinitely and, even when they do end, the artist’s work continues to sell, sometimes even more so after their passing.
There was a time when long-serving employees were given gold watches upon retirement – a symbol of the business honouring their service. But when a business closes, unless it’s been sold, it’s usually seen and felt as a failure.
Perhaps we accept the athlete’s or employee’s end because we see them as mortal, while we perceive businesses as immortal entities that should never cease to exist.
If, like me, you’ve spent time with someone transitioning out of business or winding one up, it’s hard to view them as a failure. Yet many do see themselves that way, having tied their identity so closely to their business. When the business ends, it feels like a part of them is ending too.
Hugh Van Cuylenburg talks about separating the “human being” from the “human doing”, and I see it similarly. That person has gained skills, taken risks and pushed themselves. They’ve probably created something lasting, whether through employment, their products or the services they’ve provided.
If a business has run long enough for its owner to feel like a failure when it ends, I’d argue they haven’t failed at all. They’re just caught up in the finite game, not realising it doesn’t have to be that way. We each get to define our success. What looks like a win to me might seem like a failure to you, and that’s okay – we’re using different scorecards. There have been times when I’ve made the rules tough for myself, setting a high bar for success, and other times when I’ve added “Make a coffee” to my to-do list just to feel like I’ve accomplished something.
In March, we announced that Gippslandia might conclude at the end of 2024. I’d love to give you an update but, right now, there isn’t one. We’ve had promising conversations and plenty of support, but turning words into action is still a challenge. Personally, I think we’ll be here. I have no concrete reason for that belief, but it’s what I feel. It’s the vibe.
If we’re not? We certainly haven’t failed. We’ve done Gippslandia differently; for most of the eight years we’ve been running, we haven’t really had a spokesperson, instead, we’ve had you – the community – taking to our pages and telling your stories. For various reasons, other than this quarterly column, we’ve chosen to stay at a distance. We’ve let Gippslandia forge its own identity rather than attaching our own to it. That’s certainly not out of fear of failure. I’m optimistic about our future and confident we’re going to find a way through.
Until we’ve got some certainty, I’m happy to come out, pursue my current obsession and speak to anyone willing to listen about all that we’ve achieved with Gippslandia as our stories have marked a point in time throughout an infinite game.
I hope we’ll be here to continue playing it a little longer.
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If there is something in particular that you wish to know or discuss, please get in touch and I’ll either address it here in a future column or via email at md@gippslandia.com.au.