If there's one thing that's certain in business, it's

Host: The city at dawn was a contradiction — silent but alive, gray but glimmering. The skyscrapers still wore their masks of mist, as though reluctant to return to consciousness. Down below, the world was waking, one car, one coffee, one decision at a time.

In a glass-walled office high above the streets, Jack and Jeeny stood side by side, watching the sunlight slowly pierce the fog. The floor beneath them shimmered with the reflection of a city that looked both invincible and fragile — like ambition itself.

A half-empty pot of coffee sat between them. Papers were scattered across the long mahogany table, graphs and forecasts bleeding into each other, all claiming to know what came next.

Jeeny looked at one of the pages, then at Jack, her brow furrowed, her tone both amused and solemn.

Jeeny: “Stephen Covey said, ‘If there’s one thing that’s certain in business, it’s uncertainty.’ Seems he was right. Again.”

Jack: (chuckling dryly) “Covey had the luxury of saying that with royalties and a best-selling book behind him. For the rest of us, uncertainty’s not wisdom — it’s survival.”

Jeeny: “That’s exactly why he said it. He wasn’t glorifying chaos. He was reminding us it’s the only constant we can trust.”

Host: The sunlight finally broke through the clouds, washing the office in muted gold. Outside, the sound of the city rose — honks, footsteps, the rush of time made audible.

Jack: “You sound calm about it. Most people panic when the future blinks.”

Jeeny: “Because they mistake control for security. But control’s just a trick we play on ourselves — like thinking the weather will listen if we check the forecast enough times.”

Jack: “Tell that to the investors downstairs. You’d think uncertainty was a disease the way they try to vaccinate against it.”

Jeeny: “And yet every great leap came from someone who made peace with it.”

Jack: “Peace? No one makes peace with uncertainty. You learn to wrestle it without losing your balance.”

Host: He poured another cup of coffee, his reflection shimmering in the glass wall beside him — sharp suit, tired eyes, a man who’d learned to bargain with chaos and call it work.

Jeeny: “You make it sound adversarial — like uncertainty’s an enemy.”

Jack: “It is. It’s the thief of sleep, the killer of plans, the reason good men quit before the finish line.”

Jeeny: “Or it’s the reason some rise above the rest. Uncertainty separates the cautious from the courageous. Every empire, every invention — they all started with someone stepping where there wasn’t a floor yet.”

Jack: (smirking) “You sound like a philosopher with a stock portfolio.”

Jeeny: “You sound like a man afraid to fall again.”

Host: The air between them shifted — not hostile, but charged, the way lightning gathers before it strikes.

Jack: “Afraid? No. Just experienced. I’ve seen what uncertainty does when it wins — layoffs, markets crashing, people losing everything. You start romanticizing risk, you stop seeing the wreckage.”

Jeeny: “And if you stop seeing possibility, you start dying before you hit the ground.”

Jack: “You really believe uncertainty’s a gift?”

Jeeny: “I believe it’s truth. Predictability is the illusion. Change is the pulse of the universe.”

Host: The morning light grew stronger, spilling across the office floor like a slow tide. The skyline outside had turned to silver — the storm of night now a calm sea of glass and steel.

Jack: “You know what they don’t tell you in business school? Certainty breeds arrogance. It’s when you’re sure of yourself that you miss the blind spots. Uncertainty — it humbles you.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. That’s what makes it sacred. It forces you to listen.”

Jack: “You sound like Covey himself now.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “He just articulated what we all feel when the ground shifts: fear and opportunity are twins. You can’t have one without the other.”

Host: The coffee steam rose between them — ephemeral, vanishing as soon as it appeared. It mirrored their conversation: sharp truths dissolving into silence, only to rise again in another form.

Jack: “You know, it’s funny. When I started my first company, I thought the key was planning — endless spreadsheets, five-year projections, contingency maps. I thought if I just mapped the future hard enough, it would behave.”

Jeeny: “And did it?”

Jack: “No. The economy tanked. Our investors bailed. Everything I built on certainty collapsed.”

Jeeny: “And then?”

Jack: “Then we improvised. Changed the model. Found a new market. Survived.”

Jeeny: (softly) “Exactly. Uncertainty didn’t destroy you. It rebuilt you.”

Jack: “Or broke me into someone who knows how to fake confidence better.”

Jeeny: “No — into someone who knows what confidence really is. Not pretending to know, but daring to move forward anyway.”

Host: The city below them had fully awakened now — lights flashing, horns honking, people rushing toward futures none of them could predict.

Jack: “You know, Jeeny, when Covey said that line, I wonder if he was talking about business at all — or just life.”

Jeeny: “What’s the difference? Business is just life with a dress code.”

Jack: (laughing) “That’s dangerously accurate.”

Jeeny: “Think about it. Every decision — every deal, every dream — comes down to one truth: we never really know what comes next. But we act anyway. That’s not just economics, Jack. That’s faith.”

Host: The wind outside stirred the window blinds. A single piece of paper lifted, floated, and landed on the floor, as if even the room agreed — nothing stays still.

Jack: “So what do we do, then — keep pretending we’re in control?”

Jeeny: “No. We stay curious. That’s the only control we ever have.”

Jack: “Curious?”

Jeeny: “Yes. When you stop demanding certainty, you start exploring again. Curiosity turns fear into motion.”

Host: Jack looked out at the skyline — the city now in full bloom, the sun’s gold pouring across the towers like revelation. He took a slow sip of coffee, his reflection merging with the horizon.

Jack: “You know, maybe that’s why business — and life — feel the same. Both are built on educated guesses and stubborn hope.”

Jeeny: “And both reward the ones who dare to build before the blueprint’s finished.”

Host: The light in the room had changed completely now — the gold had softened into white, clean and sharp. The day had begun in earnest.

Jeeny: “Covey didn’t mean uncertainty was chaos. He meant it was the canvas. Every decision, every dream, every risk — that’s how we paint our futures.”

Jack: “And if the paint runs?”

Jeeny: (smiling) “Then it becomes abstract art.”

Host: They both laughed, quiet but true. The kind of laughter that comes not from humor, but from acceptance.

Outside, the city roared to life — unpredictable, unrepeatable, and utterly magnificent.

Jack closed his laptop, straightened his tie, and looked at Jeeny.

Jack: “You ready?”

Jeeny: “Always.”

Host: And as they stepped out into the uncertain brilliance of the morning, their reflections merged with the endless motion below — not knowing what waited, but certain that uncertainty itself was the only thing worth trusting.

Host: Because in the rhythm of every business, every life, every storm of change — the only true constant is this:
We move forward not because we know, but because we don’t.