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A new idea is a delicate thing.

A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow. ~ Ovid . My amiable brother Parvinder and I managed all the technical matters of our large and successful manufacturing business. We were hardworking, innovative and are still pretty good engineers. My aggressive and cocky nature made me believe I was the smartest guy around. This is what success does, it fooled me into believing my own perceived greatness. Like a small child that unashamedly makes it clear that does not want to share his or her toys, I refused to listen to my other brothers and my father on technical matters.  They too were owners and part of the management team and and extremely smart and sharp individuals. They had a right to express views and ideas and rightly felt disturbed by my arrogance and rebuked me often. Eventually things came to a head and we almost broke up as a family.  ...

If I want your opinion.

I t was the year of 1992 and I one of the proud owners of our family's rather large  manufacturing business. The head of engineering Mr. Pange and I had just reviewed his very attractive proposal to save our company a great deal of money and also improve quality significantly. I gazed at this soft spoken man with amazement and respect and asked Mr.Pange,   "we are lucky to have you on our team. I am sure  you must have saved your previous employer a lot of money and problems?"  He replied "Not a single rupee,Sir" "Why?" I asked incredulously. He said, "I presented my boss with an fantastic proposal which would have done wonders for the organisation, but he refused to even listen. It was the first and last time I made a suggestion until I joined you." His boss insultingly dismissed him saying, " If I want your opinion, I will give it to you. Now get back to work"

An idea is a delicate thing.

A new idea is delicate.  It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn.  It can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow. - Ovid