How do you compete without needing others to fail?
“You sold everything.”
“Almost.”
“I still have half my table.”
The two traders are folding cloths over neighbouring market stalls. One sold jars of hot sauce. The other sold spice mixes.
“I kept hoping your customers would stop coming,” the spice trader says.
“Did it help?”
“For a few minutes.”
“And your table?”
“Stayed full.”
“Then my failure would not have created value in your jars.”
A Spark from The Vision
I do not wish for anyone's downfall. The world needs successful people. I just think of ways to add more value to myself, and wish that my adversaries would do the same.
“Easy for you to say. You won today.”
“I sold out today. That is one fact. What did people ask you for?”
“Smaller packets. A mix without salt. One person wanted instructions.”
“Those sound like things you could answer.”
“Or I could copy your sauce.”
“Would you make it well?”
“Probably not.”
“Would the market be better because two stalls have my sauce and nobody has the salt-free mix?”
The spice trader ties a knot in the first cloth.
“What if I tell people yours is unsafe?”
“Is it?”
“No.”
“Then you might damage me. You still would not have improved what you sell.”
“Competition means trying to beat you.”
“Sometimes. Only decide what the contest is. If it is who has the highest sales today, one of us must finish above the other. If it is who can become more useful to the people who come here, your improvement does not require my decline.”
“People have limited money.”
“Yes. We compete for it. I am not pretending otherwise.”
“Then how am I meant to feel when they choose you?”
“Disappointed. Curious. Annoyed, if that is honest. You do not have to celebrate every sale I make. You only have to decide whether your next move creates something or merely tries to remove me.”
“And if removing you would give me more customers?”
“For a week, perhaps. Who repairs the value problem after that?”
They work in silence. The empty stall is packed first.
“Your labels are hard to read,” the sauce trader says.
“I know.”
“And people keep asking whether the mixes are for one meal or four.”
“I heard them.”
“There is your work.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because a better spice stall is useful. Because customers who learn to cook with your mixes may buy my sauce. Because I would rather compete beside good work than win in a market people stop visiting.”
“That sounds noble.”
“It is also practical.”
The spice trader takes out a notebook.
“Tomorrow: small salt-free packets. Clear portions. One recipe card.”
The sauce trader writes on a box: “Bring more mild jars. Ask why three lids leaked.”
“Who wins next week?” the spice trader asks.
“We prepare. The market answers.”
Related lessons
AI-generated from Innocent Mwatsikesimbe's writing.
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