Ning-Jia.com

I've observed a challenge in our organization that warrants attention. Increasingly, people approach me with half-formed ideas, seemingly expecting me to complete the thought process for them. This trend isn't a failure on anyone's part; it indicates that we might be leaning too much on instruction rather than on independent, disciplined inquiry. In my experience, effective management isn't about providing ready-made answers but about creating an environment where each person can develop their own understanding and judgment. It's essential to differentiate between seeking instructions and asking questions that lead to genuine insight—much like the Socratic method of inquiry. There's a simple framework we can use: the Ownership-Driven Inquiry Framework. It consists of three steps: Observe: Clearly state the current situation or problem. Analyze: Reflect on what the situation means, why it matters, and what underlying assumptions might be at play. Act: Develop p...

As business owners, we often encounter moments of frustration when our employees seem unresponsive to simple questions. We ask for input, yet receive blank stares. We request updates, yet hear nothing until we chase. The knee-jerk reaction might be to blame laziness, incompetence, or a lack of engagement. But before we jump to conclusions, we should ask ourselves a harder question: Have these people been punished for speaking out before? Silence in an organization is rarely accidental. It is cultivated—sometimes subtly, sometimes aggressively—through past experiences. If employees have seen colleagues reprimanded, ridiculed, or ignored for voicing their thoughts, they learn that staying quiet is the safest path. If their past responses have been met with micromanagement, excessive scrutiny, or outright dismissal, they internalize that their words carry more risk than reward. This is not an individual problem but a deeply cultural one. Organizations often claim to encourage open dialogu...

Proofread prompt: Imagine you’re a son working for your dad after spending 10 years in the corporate world. You now want to work for your father, but he is a traditional Chinese businessman. He has been successful, but his previous success may not be enough to carry the company forward into the future. How would you manage your company’s transition process to ensure, firstly, that you’re a good son to your father—who wants to remain involved as long as possible—and secondly, that the business remains sustainable for the long term? 20 seconds of Deepseek thought process: Okay, let's tackle this problem. The user is a son who's worked in the corporate world for 10 years and now wants to join his father's traditional Chinese business. The father is successful but maybe stuck in old ways, and the son needs to transition the company while respecting his father and ensuring future sustainability. First, I need to consider the cultural aspects. In Chinese culture, respecting elder...

I’d like to record my experience with JTK (Jawatan Tenaga Kerja, also known as the Labour Office) here in Malaysia, partly as a reference for myself and perhaps as something that others can relate to or learn from. Tip 1: Don’t Be Rude I’m not someone who’s naturally rude, but as with any authority figure, there’s absolutely nothing to gain by acting like we’re untouchable. It doesn’t matter if we hold a Datukship, Tan Sri title, or some other prestigious accolade—those don’t carry any weight when it comes to compliance. In Malaysia, there’s no shortage of people with high-ranking titles, and chances are the officers have seen it all. Titles certainly don’t equate to compliance, and if anything, our former prime minister is living proof they can mean the opposite. So, the golden rule here is to stay respectful. Tip 2: Prevention and Preparation Are Everything Let’s face it—none of us are 100% compliant. Whether it’s due to negligence, ignorance, or the impracticality of some of our law...

In the tapestry of modern life, busyness is often worn as a badge of honor. From the hum of early morning alarms to the flicker of midnight screens, we sprint through the hours in a ceaseless pursuit of clout, achievement and recognition. But as we scale the heights of productivity, we might find ourselves standing alone at the summit. The irony of busyness is not in its inherent virtue but in its tendency to alienate the very people who lend our lives meaning. “Beware the barrenness of a busy life,” Socrates warned centuries ago. Though ancient, his words resonate profoundly today. In our quest to "fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run," we often neglect the quiet spaces where relationships thrive. These spaces are not bound by the metrics of efficiency or the language of calendars; they require time, patience, and undivided attention—commodities we often reserve for work. Modern society equates busyness with value. To be busy is to be important, ...

I’ve always prided myself on being a team player, embracing the idea of teamwork as an essential ingredient for success. But lately, I’ve started to notice the cracks in this seemingly perfect ideology. Teamwork, I’ve come to realise, can sometimes be a convenient disguise for sheep mentality, groupthink, and the pursuit of inclusion without merit. A recent experience brought this into sharp focus. My pastry chef—someone I deeply respect for their expertise and precision—was faced with a dilemma. The sales and marketing team had strong opinions about the design of a showpiece cake we were preparing. Their suggestions were well-meaning but lacked the technical knowledge that comes with professional training. Still, they were united in their stance, confident their ideas would achieve the desired effect.  Initially, my instinct was to back the chef entirely. They knew better. But then I considered the bigger picture: the delicate ecosystem of harmony within the group. So, I persuaded...

Consider this: one who leads a hundred men will find himself, by extension, sharing in the lives of a hundred souls. To lead is not merely to direct or oversee; it is to assume responsibility for the joys, sufferings, and burdens of each under one’s care. And thus, to lead well, one must cultivate a spirit vast enough to accommodate the great multitude of human conditions that life inevitably presents. A leader may command the minds of many, but he is also bound to their hearts. Someone’s father may indeed be nearing his final breaths, someone’s daughter may be weeping in distress, and another may be singing in joy at their wedding. Each event is a current in the great river of life, pulling us into empathy and understanding. The leader must stand firm in this river, feeling each movement and ripple yet remaining rooted. In this way, a leader’s heart must become as a vast reservoir: deep enough to receive both sorrow and joy without judgment and wide enough to hold these many lives tog...

Reflect, then, that the sting of exclusion often wounds only my pride, which bids me crave recognition. Ostracism, a silent hand that I grasp myself, is but the echo of a misguided attachment to what does not align with my inner resolve. For what virtue lies in yearning for bonds with those who neither honor my values nor wish to see me thrive? Such friendships weigh like stones on my spirit, false anchors to ideals we never truly shared. Instead, I seek a circle that uplifts, in both kindness and principle, those who walk the path with genuine care for my growth and stability. To know a friend is to know they, too, cherish the same virtue, the same integrity, and find joy in my prosperity as if it were their own. Those who do not nourish this bond are but passersby, and releasing them is not loss, but wisdom. Yet, I will not let this departure obscure the joy of what once was. What we shared—those good moments—belong always to memory and cannot be taken away. They are as embers that o...

At a young age—around 15 years old—I encountered a conundrum. I was a helpful kid, always taking pride in assisting strangers in malls, on the streets, wherever I could. One day, someone asked me, “What if you’re taken advantage of? What if they lead you into an alley and rob you?” After thinking for a while, I answered, “Then I’ll be strong enough to be taken advantage of, to be robbed, and still help the next stranger I meet.” This thought process has guided me ever since. I don’t want to become the kind of person who stops helping others because I got scammed once. I aim to be strong enough to face loss without being diminished by it. I strive to accumulate enough wealth to endure theft once or twice and to need so little that loss becomes irrelevant. This is how I have chosen to live. I am not fazed by threats to my way of life simply because I decide to be helpful. I have seen enough to trust that people will intervene when they witness injustice, sincerity, or need. I intend to b...

Over the past decade, I’ve navigated two cycles of crypto hype, dabbled in higher-risk stocks, and carefully avoided real estate due to its liquidity issues. As a young investor with a high tolerance for risk, my journey has been shaped by both ambition and inexperience. I’ve read the classics—Lynch, Buffet, Graham, Damodaran—and taken courses to sharpen my understanding of company valuations. Despite this, the reality of investing has taught me lessons beyond the pages of any book. One piece of advice I frequently hear is, " Markets can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent. " There’s truth to this, but I see it differently. Markets may appear irrational in the short term, but prolonged irrationality suggests that I may not have accessed all the necessary information. This is why I emphasise investing in transparent companies, where I can fully understand their operations, financial health, and future prospects. Access to reliable information allows me to make inf...