Emotions have no place in business, unless you do business with

Host: The city was asleep, but the office wasn’t. The skyline pulsed with distant neon, and the windows of the high-rise glowed like tired eyes refusing to close. Inside, the air was sharp with the scent of espresso and ambition. Papers littered the conference table, their corners curling slightly from the heat of the lamp above.

Jack stood near the glass wall, his reflection framed by the city lights — tall, lean, restless. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, his grey eyes narrowed on the blinking cursor of an email draft he couldn’t bring himself to send. Jeeny sat at the table, her hair pulled back loosely, her fingers tracing circles in the condensation of her coffee cup. The silence between them was electric — the kind that always comes before truth breaks through.

Jeeny: (quietly) “Friedrich Dürrenmatt once said, ‘Emotions have no place in business, unless you do business with them.’”

Host: Her voice slid through the quiet like a blade wrapped in silk. Jack didn’t turn. He just let the words hang there, heavy, true, inevitable.

Jack: “Sounds like something a cynic would say.”

Jeeny: (softly) “Or someone who’s seen what happens when people pretend they don’t feel.”

Host: The rain began to fall outside — slow at first, then steady — tapping against the glass in a rhythm that matched the unease between them.

Jack: “You’re saying emotion has a place in business? That’s a dangerous philosophy.”

Jeeny: “So is pretending people are machines.”

Host: Her eyes lifted to him, calm but fierce, like someone who’d spent years learning how to speak softly and still be heard.

Jeeny: “Dürrenmatt wasn’t glorifying coldness. He was warning against hypocrisy. If emotion drives people, then emotion drives business — whether we admit it or not.”

Jack: (turning finally) “You make it sound noble. But emotion clouds judgment. Deals don’t get closed with empathy; they get closed with leverage.”

Jeeny: “And yet, leverage always comes from emotion — fear, trust, desire, pride. Business isn’t numbers, Jack. It’s nerve.”

Host: The lamplight flickered, catching the edge of his jawline, the faint tension in his hands.

Jack: “You’re idealizing it. The moment you start letting feelings into your decisions, you get weak. Vulnerable.”

Jeeny: (standing now, her tone calm but unwavering) “No. The moment you deny them, you get blind.”

Host: The rain picked up, a sound like applause or warning — it was hard to tell which. Jeeny walked toward the window, standing beside him. The two of them looked out over the city — towers and traffic, light and motion, greed and grace all tangled together.

Jeeny: “You ever wonder why people stay loyal to a company, Jack? Why they go above and beyond for a paycheck that barely covers their rent? It’s not reason. It’s emotion. It’s belonging. Recognition. Meaning.”

Jack: (quietly) “And when those emotions turn sour?”

Jeeny: “Then business dies — quietly, from the inside out.”

Host: Her words hit like truth always does — not loud, but final. Jack exhaled slowly, the window fogging with the warmth of his breath.

Jack: “You sound like you’re running a monastery, not a company.”

Jeeny: (smiling faintly) “Maybe that’s the problem. Companies want loyalty without love, passion without empathy. They forget that people aren’t assets. They’re fire. You can’t measure that in spreadsheets.”

Host: The room went still again, the hum of the city like a heartbeat beyond the glass. Jack walked back to the table, poured himself another coffee, and leaned against the edge.

Jack: “You know, I’ve fired people for crying in meetings.”

Jeeny: “Why?”

Jack: “Because I thought it made them weak.”

Jeeny: “And now?”

Jack: “Now I realize I just didn’t know what strength looked like.”

Host: The moment lingered, raw and human. The rain softened, turning from rhythm to whisper.

Jeeny: “Maybe that’s what Dürrenmatt meant — not that emotions should be banished, but that they should be understood. Used with integrity. If you do business with emotions, you’re not their victim. You’re their translator.”

Jack: (half-smiling) “So you think compassion closes deals?”

Jeeny: “No. Connection does. Compassion just keeps the deal honest.”

Host: She sat back down, folding her hands in front of her. The light from the city painted her face in strokes of silver and gold. Jack watched her — the flicker of resolve in her eyes, the steadiness of her breath — and realized she wasn’t talking theory. She was talking survival.

Jack: “You ever lose something because you cared too much?”

Jeeny: “Only the things that weren’t meant to last.”

Jack: “That’s a hell of a risk to take.”

Jeeny: “Everything worth building is.”

Host: Her words struck deep — not as challenge, but as reminder. Outside, lightning flared over the city, bright and brief, like the truth illuminating the machinery of human ambition.

Jack: “You know, when I started out, I thought business was about winning. Now it just feels like endurance.”

Jeeny: “It’s both. Winning keeps you alive. Enduring makes you human.”

Host: He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

Jack: “You always manage to turn profit margins into philosophy.”

Jeeny: “Because they’re the same story told with different symbols — effort, loss, desire, balance.”

Jack: “You make it sound spiritual.”

Jeeny: “It is. Every decision is a confession of what you value most.”

Host: The clock on the wall ticked, the seconds heavy. Jack looked down at the files on the table, then back at her.

Jack: “You know, I used to believe numbers never lied.”

Jeeny: “They don’t. But the people who interpret them do. And the ones who do it best — they don’t just read the numbers, Jack. They read the hearts behind them.”

Host: The camera drew back slowly — the two of them framed in a wash of city light and quiet revelation. The rain had stopped. The world outside shimmered with reflection, glass and pavement gleaming like truth rediscovered.

Host: Because Friedrich Dürrenmatt was right — emotions have no place in business unless you understand them, trade in them, respect them.

Every deal is emotional. Every risk, every vision, every choice — all of it born from the same fragile spark that makes us human.

And as Jack and Jeeny stood in the soft blue of dawn — tired, honest, changed — the city began to move again, unaware that two people had just rewritten the oldest contract in the world:

The one between profit and conscience.

Jeeny looked up at him, her voice gentle, certain.

Jeeny: “The best business isn’t built on logic, Jack. It’s built on feeling — disciplined, honest feeling. The kind that doesn’t manipulate, but understands.”

Jack: (quietly) “Then maybe emotion isn’t the risk.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “No. It’s the currency.”

Host: The lights dimmed, the sun rose, and the office — once a temple of numbers — felt, for the first time, alive.

Because in the end,
the most profitable deal we ever make
is learning how to do business — not in fear —
but in feeling.