Years ago, I belonged to a networking group whose purpose was to share market intelligence and refer business to one another. Over time, many of us became friends, and some of those friendshipsstill exist today. One member once gave me the name of an executive at a company we were prospecting. There was no introduction; they simply gave me the name and told me to use theirs when I reached out. I did, and nothing came of it.
A few months later, that person approached me and told me I “owed them one” because they had given me a referral. I remember being surprised. Keeping score had never been part of the group, or at least I hadn’t thought it was. I later learned that this was simply how this person operated. I didn’t pay the debt. Not out of spite; I just didn’t recognize it as one. But that interaction told me something about how differently we viewed the same relationship. To this person, the group was a ledger. A name shared, or an introduction made, created a credit on one side and a debt on the other. Eventually, the books were supposed to balance.
Most of us weren’t playing that game. Sometimes one person contributed more than another. Sometimes the tables turned. You might help someone who never had an opportunity to help you back, only to have someone else help you years later. There was an unspoken trust that if everyone continued contributing, the group would continue creating value for everyone. The return didn’t have to be immediate, equal, or even come from the person you helped.
Looking back, I don’t think either of us misunderstood the rules. We were simply playing different games. This person was playing a series of transactions, each with a beginning and an end. I was playing for the relationship to continue and, if the game is supposed to continue indefinitely, keeping score changes what winning looks like.
I’ve started noticing how often we confuse the two. We negotiate a deal as if extracting the last concession means we won, even though we hope to do business with the other person for years. We focus on maximizing this quarter even though we are trying to build a company that will be around for decades. We measure friendships by who called last, who picked up dinner, or who made the greater effort, even though there is hopefully no date when the books need to be settled. When we treat something infinite as though it were finite, we can win the moment and lose in the long term.
That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care about results or allow relationships to become one-sided. Businesses have to make money, friendships require effort from both people, and teams need everyone to contribute. There are times when walking away is exactly the right decision. But there is a difference between paying attention to whether something is healthy and constantly calculating whether we’re ahead.
The uncomfortable part is recognizing how easy it is to see the scorekeeping in someone else and miss it in ourselves. Where have I been keeping score without admitting it? Where have I done something generous while quietly expecting repayment? Where have I been so focused on winning the current round that I’ve forgotten there is supposed to be another one?
Maybe that’s the question worth asking before we decide whether we’re winning: What game am I actually playing?
Some games have a finish line, and the point is to cross it first. But many of the things that matter most- our businesses, relationships, friendships, communities, and our own growth- don’t really end unless we choose to stop playing them.
In those games, winning today matters a lot less if it costs us the opportunity to play tomorrow.
Sometimes the win is simply getting to keep playing.
“Virtue consists in bestowing benefits for which we are not certain of meeting with any return.” – Seneca
Have an infinite weekend. 😊
-Vijay