The business schools reward difficult complex behavior more than

Host: The office was drenched in amber light, the kind that comes right before sunset, when the city starts to slow, but the air still hums with electric noise. Through the glass walls, one could see the reflection of a thousand tiny windows, each one a different world of hurry and hope. Jack sat by the window, his sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on the skyline, a half-empty cup of coffee forgotten beside him. Jeeny stood by the desk, a folder in her hands, her expression calm yet intense, as if her heart was still arguing with her mind.

Host: On the table, between them, lay a printout of a slide deck — full of charts, models, and buzzwords that had taken two weeks to prepare. The title read: “Strategic Complexity and Market Leadership.”

Jeeny: (quietly) “You know, Jack… Warren Buffett once said, ‘The business schools reward difficult complex behavior more than simple behavior, but simple behavior is more effective.’”

Jack: (half-smiling, his voice low and gravelly) “Buffett can afford to say that. Simplicity is a luxury when you’re already sitting on billions. For the rest of us, complexity is survival.”

Host: A pause. The light shifted, falling across Jeeny’s face. The dust in the air glimmered like floating fragments of gold.

Jeeny: “No, Jack. That’s the trap. The moment we start believing that complexity equals intelligence, we forget the purpose of what we’re doing. Look at Apple under Steve Jobs. He made simplicity an art — one button, one screen, one gesture. The world followed because it was easy to love, not because it was hard to understand.”

Jack: “And yet, Jeeny, Jobs was obsessed with the details no one else cared about. He was a control freak. You call that simplicity?”

Jeeny: “I call it clarity. He stripped away the noise. That’s what simplicity really means — knowing what doesn’t matter.”

Host: Jack leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. His grey eyes flickered with a hint of challenge, his jawline set like stone.

Jack: “Clarity doesn’t always win, Jeeny. In the real world — the one filled with shareholders, markets, and competitors — complexity is what keeps you ahead. It’s what makes others too confused to catch up. You think Buffett’s words would work in a tech startup, or a global bank? They’d laugh him out of the room.”

Jeeny: (softly, but with edge) “And yet, the banks that chased complexity — the ones that created derivatives, subprime, synthetic assets — they were the first to fall in 2008. Simplicity might not look clever, but it saves you when the storm comes.”

Host: The air in the room thickened. The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound between them for a long moment. Jack’s fingers tapped against the table, an old habit of impatience.

Jack: “So you think all this—” (gestures toward the slide deck) “—all this work we’ve done is just... theater?”

Jeeny: “If it doesn’t make sense to the people we lead, yes. If it’s just to impress the board with jargon, yes. We’ve made strategy a language only the initiated can speak. That’s not leadership, Jack. That’s camouflage.”

Host: Jack’s brow furrowed, his voice deepening, a note of frustration creeping in.

Jack: “You think people want simple answers? They want certainty. They want to know we’ve thought through every variable, every risk. That’s what complexity gives them — confidence.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. That’s what it pretends to give them. Confidence built on complexity is like a castle made of smoke. It looks grand, but one wind and it’s gone.”

Host: Jeeny’s words hung in the air, the echo of them sharp against the glass walls. Outside, the city lights began to blink awake — tiny suns scattered through the urban dusk.

Jack: “You talk like the world is full of good people waiting to be inspired by simple truths. But look around. People chase what’s flashy, not what’s true. Simplicity doesn’t sell.”

Jeeny: “And that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? We’ve taught ourselves that what’s complicated must be valuable. That if it’s hard to understand, it must be worth more. But sometimes the most powerful things are the most plain. Buffett built an empire by following principles any child could grasp: don’t lose money, understand what you buy, be patient. Yet business schools teach formulas, not discipline.”

Host: The tension shifted — not weaker, but deeper. Jack’s expression softened, his voice slower now.

Jack: “Maybe simplicity works when you’re alone — when you control every piece. But in the system we live in, everything is intertwined. Simplicity can get you killed if you don’t see the layers beneath it.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe the real simplicity is about seeing those layers and still choosing what matters. Not everything, Jack, just what’s essential. Complexity isn’t intelligence — it’s often just fear dressed in logic.”

Host: Jack looked away, his eyes catching the faint reflection of his own face in the window — a man built of formulas, plans, and distractions.

Jack: “You make it sound so easy, Jeeny. Like we can just peel away the unnecessary and find purity underneath. But people like us... we thrive on the unnecessary. We build walls because the truth is too simple to be comforting.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe we’ve mistaken comfort for security. Maybe that’s why we’re all so tired, Jack. We’ve built our lives around proving we’re clever, instead of being clear.”

Host: Silence. Outside, a plane cut across the sky, its distant hum like a line through the evening. The office lights dimmed slightly, their glow fading into a soft melancholy.

Jack: “You ever think about what would happen if we actually did it? Stripped it all down — made things simple? What would we lose?”

Jeeny: “Probably our ego first. Then maybe our fear. And after that... maybe nothing at all. Maybe we’d finally start to see.”

Host: Jeeny smiled, faintly, her eyes glistening with the kind of truth that hurts and heals at once. Jack’s hand lingered on the table, fingers brushing against the edge of the paper — a gesture more vulnerable than words.

Jack: “You know, I used to think simplicity was for dreamers. But maybe it’s the hardest thing in the world — to stay simple when everyone else is trying to look smart.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Simplicity isn’t ignorance, Jack. It’s courage. The courage to choose the obvious when the world rewards the obscure.”

Host: The clock on the wall ticked softly. Outside, the streetlights flickered on one by one, until the city was bathed in a quiet glow.

Jack: (sighing) “So what do we do now? Tear this presentation apart and start over?”

Jeeny: (smiling) “No. We simplify it. We tell the truth — no more, no less.”

Host: Jack looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes clearer now, like clouds parting after a long storm.

Jack: “Simple, huh?”

Jeeny: “Simple.”

Host: And with that, the city outside went quiet, as if even the streets had paused to listen. The last light of the sunset fell across their faces, washing them in gold — not the kind you mine or trade, but the kind that comes when two people finally understand something true.

Host: In that moment, simplicity didn’t seem naive. It seemed brave. And perhaps, as Buffett had said, it was the only kind of intelligence that truly worked.