Do you ever have the situation where someone says something, it completely changes your understanding, it makes perfect sense, and you’re left thinking, “How did I not know that?”
I have always struggled to keep kitchen knives sharp - that razor-sharp edge they have when you first buy them. I’ve spent hours trying to hone my edge honing technique with a sharpening steel, I've tried various miracle sharpening gadgets, watched YouTube videos, read articles online, and compared notes with friends who seemed to be having exactly the same problem. Despite all the promises, the results were always … acceptable, but never outstanding.
Recently, I was talking to a chef, and I asked him to show me how to sharpen a knife properly - like the pros do. His answer floored me. He explained that a sharpening steel isn’t really for sharpening at all – it’s mainly for straightening and aligning the very fine edge of the blade. In many professional kitchens, knives are periodically sent away to specialist sharpeners who grind a new edge onto them (as part of a knife-set rotation service) and some kitchens do have their own whetstones. Suddenly, years of frustration made perfect sense.
What struck me wasn’t just that I’d misunderstood something, but that everything around me had reinforced that misunderstanding. Friends talked about 'sharpening' with a steel. Kitchen shops were full of sharpening gadgets. Films like 'The 100 foot Journey' show two competing chefs having a 'sharpening steel battle' as they sharpened their knives before culinary battle commenced. I’d visited plenty of kitchenware shops, including those selling beautiful high-end knives, and I honestly can't remember ever seeing a whetstone. But was that because they weren’t there… or because I wasn’t looking for one?
Once I’d formed the mental model that steel equals sharpening, every new piece of information simply fitted that existing picture. I never stopped to question the picture itself, and I suspect we all do this far more often than we’d like to admit.
In business, we optimise processes that don’t really need optimising. We invest in better tools without questioning whether we’re solving the right problem. We search for evidence that supports what we already believe and unconsciously overlook information that points in a different direction.
Our most dangerous assumptions are often the ones we no longer realise we’re making. That’s why curiosity matters so much; curiosity about whether what we already 'know' is actually true, and not just curiosity about learning something new. Sometimes the breakthrough isn’t finding a better answer; it’s discovering that we’ve been asking the wrong question all along. Sometimes a different perspective, a simple question, a moment of being honest or vulnerable about a challenge, is all it takes. Those 'How did I not know that?' moments are gifts. They remind us that learning isn’t always about adding new information; sometimes it’s about replacing an old belief that has shaped our thinking for years.
The best strategists, leaders, and innovators are not people who are never wrong, but those who actively seek out moments when a long-held assumption can be challenged.
What long-term frustration do you have that just may need a different perspective - and who might you go ask?
Ad Futurum
Graham
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