Utility, Not Features, Is the Real Competitive Advantage
Workplace Wisdom: What you've done doesn't matter; what matters is what you can still do.
The core idea behind this quote is simple: what value can you still offer?
I recently had the chance to catch up with a former colleague, and we ended up reminiscing about our old company—bringing back some unpleasant memories.
When I first joined that company right after graduation, I was an intern making just 2,000 yuan a month. After I returned to school, my boss would often call and ask me to come back to work. He even sent me a graduation gift, which touched me deeply. So when I actually graduated, I went back, earning under 5,000 yuan with no social security benefits. I stayed for two years. During that time, I watched two waves of colleagues from my cohort leave until everyone was gone. I considered quitting several times, but my boss had a way with words—he'd dangle promises and then point out problems with the people who left, saying they weren't the ones who chose to quit but were actually fired. That reassurance kept me there for nearly two years.
It was only after chatting with this former colleague that I realized my old boss was indeed a shrewd manager:
He'd start by portraying the company as a startup going through tough early days, promising that your salary wouldn't suffer. He'd tell you that joining now makes you one of the founding members. Sure, the work might not match your career plan, but he'd say don't worry—in a few months when business picks up, we'll launch a new department and hand it to you to lead.
A few months later, when you bring up your career goals again, he'd say business still isn't improving enough, ask you to hang in there a bit longer. Meanwhile, colleagues from your cohort would start leaving one by one. That's when he'd pull you aside for private conversations to check if anyone was organizing a mass resignation. Whether or not there was, he'd divide and conquer—telling you privately that someone like "XXX" wasn't great, probably didn't want to stay, questioning their ability, but saying you were excellent. He'd build you up while tearing others down, making it impossible to maintain normal relationships at work. If someone did quit, he'd tell you privately that they lacked real capability or had family issues, and said he was keeping it professional to save face, citing "development reasons," to preserve the company's reputation and prevent more departures.
When everyone was about to break, he'd offer token salary increases, promising social security would be set up soon—and then a few months later, he'd catch everyone up on the years he'd skipped paying.
Keep hanging on, and you'd still end up with nothing. (Back then, unlike now, they could just refuse to pay and face no labor arbitration consequences.)
Only after you finally gathered the courage to connect with former colleagues and compare notes would you discover completely different stories—you'd been divided and isolated. And in every version, you were made the villain while the boss played the benevolent leader. (To be a competent manager, that's exactly where your value lies.)
After I left and looked back, I found my old boss had already deleted me as a friend. My reputation at that company was thoroughly ruined, with labels like "ungrateful" and "incompetent" used as warnings to others.
My old boss kept running the same con on generation after generation of graduates, continuing to run his "startup."
When you no longer have value to offer, no one will care about your feelings.
As a boss, learn his management tactics—they really can cut labor costs. As an employee, understand that your core competitiveness is your utilitarian value. Lose that, and you're worthless.