One of Warren Buffett’s best-known investment principles is the idea of getting rich slowly.
We know that building wealth takes time. Good businesses need time to grow. Compounding needs time to work. Valuable skills and experience take years to develop.
But I’ve come to believe that our difficulty with getting rich slowly isn’t simply a lack of patience.
We’re not afraid of waiting. We’re afraid of waiting for years, only to discover that we chose the wrong path.
If someone could tell me that a company was worth owning for the long term, that its business model was sustainable, its competitive advantages were real, and it still had reasonable room to grow, I might be willing to buy its shares, hold them, and wait patiently.
Because I would have a reason to believe in what I was waiting for.
The reality, however, is that we rarely have that level of certainty.
Our knowledge may not be enough to determine whether a company is truly worth holding for the long term. Even when we do our research, we cannot predict everything that will happen in the future.
I own an annuity insurance policy with an attached universal account. Its credited interest rate once reached 6%, but eventually fell back to the contractual minimum guaranteed rate of 3%.
That experience made me think about something beyond insurance.
When the rules of a long-term arrangement are relatively clear, and we understand both what we can rely on and what limitations we must accept, waiting becomes less unsettling. Of course, the actual outcome still depends on the specific contractual terms.
A reasonable degree of certainty makes it easier to wait. When we lack a sound basis for our decisions, we become afraid of committing for the long term.
Many of life's choices are much the same.
We want to find work worth investing in over the years, work that allows our value to grow as we gain experience. We want to create things that continue to matter, so that today's efforts still mean something in the future.
But we don't always know whether the direction we've chosen will lead anywhere worthwhile.
We worry that we will invest our time, energy, and opportunities, only to discover that we have little to show for them—and perhaps fewer options than we had before.
Getting rich slowly, then, may be about more than money.
It also reminds us that before committing to something for the long term, we need to understand what we are committing to and why.
When Our Understanding Is Limited, We Need to Keep Testing Our Assumptions
We cannot know all the answers before we begin.
What we can do is improve our understanding over time, look for evidence in the real world, and adjust our decisions as we learn more.
In investing, we need to examine a company's business model, financial condition, competitive advantages, valuation, and risks. We shouldn't entrust our financial future to a stock simply because someone else says it is worth holding.
In our careers, we need to ask whether a job helps us develop useful skills, whether our experience can be transferred elsewhere, and whether our industry will continue to have demand. We shouldn't assume that because we have spent many years in a particular role, we must stay on the same path forever.
Recently, a conversation with friends brought up a very practical concern.
For people who have worked at the same company until retirement, receiving a pension can provide a sense of security. The years of work have brought some financial protection, and life can finally enter a new chapter.
But some people who want to keep doing something meaningful after retirement suddenly find themselves unsure where to begin.
After decades of working, they start asking themselves: How much of what I've learned can I still use outside the role or company where I spent my career?
The challenge can be even greater for those who lose their jobs before retirement and have to find a new direction.
A job can provide income and stability without necessarily increasing our long-term value.
We need to distinguish between three things: the income a job provides today, the skills we develop while doing it, and whether those skills will remain useful in the future.
The real concern isn't that someone hasn't been promoted after years of work, nor that everyone must become an entrepreneur. It's that we may spend years working hard without developing many skills or options we can carry into the next chapter of our lives.
A salary rewards us today. Our abilities may determine how many choices we have tomorrow.
This brings me to writing.
Publishing an article every day doesn't automatically mean we're improving.
Is writing helping us think more deeply? Is it helping us understand what readers genuinely care about? Are our articles gradually becoming part of a coherent body of work?
If we keep publishing without examining which pieces actually help readers or where our writing falls short, we may be accumulating articles rather than developing our craft.
The same thing happens at work. Being busy is not the same as growing, and effort does not automatically translate into lasting value.
Real progress happens when we do the work, observe the results, identify problems, and improve based on what we learn.
How Can We Tell Whether Our Time Is Creating Value?
We cannot know every answer before we start, but we can look for evidence as we move forward.
For me, there are three questions worth asking repeatedly.
1. Be Clear About What You Want to Build
Investors want to benefit from the value a business creates and earn a reasonable return on their investment.
Employees want more than a paycheck. They also want professional skills, industry experience, and greater freedom to choose their next opportunity.
Writers want more than a growing number of published articles. They want deeper thinking, better work, and a clearer understanding of their readers.
If we don't know what we are trying to build, it becomes difficult to judge whether our time and effort are worthwhile.
Before committing to something for the long term, ask yourself:
If I keep doing this for three, five, or even ten years, what do I hope to have gained?
The answer doesn't have to be money. It could be skills, experience, a body of work, or greater independence and freedom of choice.
The clearer our goal, the easier it becomes to judge whether our daily efforts are moving us toward it.
2. Look for Real Evidence of Progress
Don't measure your efforts only by the time you put in. Look at what has changed as a result.
In investing, pay attention to whether a company's actual performance supports your original investment thesis, rather than focusing only on its share price.
At work, ask whether you are taking on more valuable responsibilities, learning new skills, and developing experience that would still be useful outside your current role.
In writing, look at whether your ideas are becoming clearer, whether reader feedback helps you identify weaknesses, and whether your content is developing into a coherent body of work.
These changes may not translate into money immediately. Some may not even be easy to measure. But they can help us determine whether we are moving in the direction we intended.
If progress isn't obvious yet, that doesn't necessarily mean we have failed. We can ask further questions.
Does this kind of growth simply take more time? Is our approach ineffective? Or was our original goal poorly defined?
The point isn't to demand an immediate return from every effort. It's to make sure that every effort gives us an opportunity to learn something.
3. Use Feedback to Decide Whether to Continue, Adjust, or Walk Away
Once we have a goal and begin looking for evidence, we need to act on what we learn.
If an investment's long-term thesis remains intact, we don't necessarily need to abandon it because of short-term volatility. If the company's underlying business changes materially, we need to reassess our assumptions.
If a job continues to help us develop valuable skills, it may be worth staying and investing further. If there is little room for growth over an extended period, we might explore new responsibilities, learn additional skills, or look for other opportunities.
If an article doesn't receive the response we expected, we don't need to conclude that writing itself is a mistake. Instead, we can examine the problem. Was the topic relevant to readers? Was the message clear? Did the article genuinely help someone solve a problem?
Of course, testing our assumptions doesn't mean giving up whenever results are slow.
Some skills take years to develop. Some pieces of work need time before more people discover them. We need to set a reasonable period for evaluation based on the nature of what we're doing, rather than using short-term results to dismiss long-term potential.
Real validation isn't about demanding an immediate return from every effort. It's about becoming clearer, through experience, about why we should continue—and when we need to change course.
Even when our original direction isn't entirely right, we can use what we learn to recognize problems sooner, adjust our approach, and avoid spending too much time repeating the same mistake.
May Our Time Add Up to Something Meaningful
We cannot know in advance what today's decisions will bring ten years from now.
But we can decide not to treat persistence as the only answer.
If our direction has been tested and we can see meaningful progress, we should give it enough time to develop. If new evidence overturns our original assumptions, we should have the courage to adjust.
Whether we are investing, working, or writing, the goal should not be to repeat the same actions indefinitely. It should be to build skills, learn from feedback, and gradually improve the quality of our decisions.
Time itself does not automatically create wealth. Nor does it automatically make us better.
Time becomes an ally when we invest it in things worth building—and remain willing to learn, correct our course, and grow along the way.
We need more than the willingness to wait. We need the ability to recognize what is worth waiting for, and to know when to continue, adjust, or choose a different path.
