There are many lessons that I have learned in my adult life. One of them had to do with saying, “I don’t know.” Who knows why this was so difficult? I just know that years went by after I got married and my wife swears that she never heard those words from me.

“Where is the place that we are going?” she would ask. My answer was always, “Don’t worry, we’ll find it.” My motto was that we weren’t lost until we ran out of gas. (Note: If you have the same motto, always leave home with a full tank.)

Well, the cure for my malady was children. We have two and they are questioning machines.

“Dad, how much does that building weigh?”

“Daddy, is a gazelle faster than a horse? Which one is taller? Which one lives longer?”

“Dad, who was the best baseball player ever? Who was the second best? …”

Questions can tumble from their mouths faster than water goes over Niagara Falls. There is no defense except to admit the obvious – I don’t know. (Perhaps I know a few things. I am pretty sure that a horse is usually taller than a gazelle.)

It occurs to me that we learn a lot about life and business from the questions that are asked. Sometimes we also learn from the questions that are not asked. Of course we learn from the answers. How an organization deals with questions, answers and change say a lot about them.

What can you learn about a business by their competitive intelligence questions? Here are some ideas.

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Certainty is a virtue, isn’t it?

Where would we be without confident, black and white answers to important questions? There is great comfort in knowing something to be true or in taking a position that does not need to be reexamined each day. So, we test our beliefs and fix them in our minds. Without such a process, life would be too incredibly complex. It is enough to deal with the new things without having to question what we already know. Makes sense to you?

And yet, unyielding certainty can be a trap.

When my daughter was young, it was a regular event every few months for her to ask if she could have a dog. My answer was always the same, “No, Sweetie, a dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” She cheerfully and consistently accepted my short answer (which never varied) for years. Then she approached me one night while I was sitting on the couch with my son. “Daddy,” she said, “could I have a dog?” Well, the usual tape started running, “No, Sweetie, a dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” When I resumed talking with my son, I could see out of the corner of my eye that my daughter had not moved. Turning back toward her, I could also see that there were tears in her eyes. Off she ran upstairs. My son and I exchanged bewildered looks. “What was that all about?” he asked.

That night as I was putting my daughter to bed, I found her lying there still affected by my answer. I asked her if she was upset at me. Without making eye contact, she nodded her head “yes.”

Quietly, I said, “But, Sweetie, you know that I always say ‘no’ when you ask for a dog. A dog is a lot of responsibility and work.” (Perhaps if I whispered the words she would accept them better.)

Turning to look at me directly, she delivered to me an important lesson.

“Daddy, you could have said ‘maybe’.”

There is so much simplification that occurs in strategy and competitive intelligence work.

Much of that simplification is necessary because the competitive environment is simply too complex to think that analysis can start from scratch each day. So, we analyze, categorize and prioritize so that the few most critical issues are worked hardest. Over time, the people that are involved know and can repeat the common answers to both the lower priority issues and those that are getting special attention. Indeed one measure of the success of a competitive intelligence program is the general awareness of the conclusions of the competitive intelligence efforts. What’s the problem with all of this?

I was eighteen years old, fiercely independent and ready to go to college. We were living in Wyoming at the time and the college was in Florida. The long road trip ahead of me was the first one that I had ever undertaken by myself. I would have to make all the preparations beforehand, all of the decisions along the way and, of course, I was responsible for how I performed in school.

But first my trusty VW Bug had to get me there.

I set about to show everyone (especially my parents) that I could handle all of the preparations. I plotted the route for my 4 day journey. I decided on everything that had to go with me to college and made sure that it would fit in the car. Most of all, I prepared the car.

I checked the tires, the windshield washer fluid, the oil levels and so on. Boy, wasn’t I being thorough? And without any help to boot. About that time, my father asked if I had checked the sparkplugs. Well, I hardly needed any help from him or anyone else. I was a grown up and besides, didn’t he see what a great job I was already doing? “I’ll take care of it!” I snapped and he left the subject alone.

The departure day finally came and I drove off south through Colorado. Goodbye to living full time with the family. Hello to the college life. Independence day had arrived and I was doing just fine.

The first day was uneventful. I made it through the mountain passes of southern Colorado (barely) and arrived late in the day in Dumas, Texas. Somewhat nervously I checked in to the motel while halfway expecting that they would tell me I was too young to be traveling alone. All I remember about that night was the excitement of being on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I got up at 4 AM to start the next day’s travel. I left the motel in the dark that Sunday morning planning to travel a great distance that day (wouldn’t everyone be impressed with my accomplishment).

That’s when it happened.

My VW engine began to misfire. It jerked as I tried to get up to highway speed. I was mystified about the cause. This had never happened before. What was I going to do? I limped into Amarillo looking for a miracle. Unfortunately, there were no car dealers open at 6 AM on Sunday morning. I decided to keep going for a while. Later that morning I stopped to call home. Specifically I wanted to talk to my brother because he knew a lot more about cars than I did (or do).

He asked me, “Did you check the sparkplugs?” Uh-oh. “Actually, I checked everything but the sparkplugs before leaving home,” I replied sheepishly.

Sometimes in corporate life we are diligent to check many things.

[For my non-US readers: In the 1992 US presidential campaign, Governor Bill Clinton’s staff coined the phrase “it’s the economy, stupid” to remind themselves of what was most important to voters. It helped them to focus all of their efforts on the most essential determinant of their success.]

As a mentor once told me, all problems are people problems.

I was reading my local newspaper this morning. In the sports section, there was an article extolling the positive impact that the new pitching coach had had on the professional baseball team in my area. All of the pitchers were suddenly pitching better. More strikes, longer outings and more wins seem to be rule instead of the rare exception that we had enjoyed in past years. What had made the difference, the new pitching coach was asked. Was he emphasizing new techniques or trickier pitches? Maybe he was having all of the pitchers exercise more or differently than before? Perhaps it was not only the pitchers but the also the catchers (who usually decide what kind of pitch – fastball, curve, change up – that the pitcher throws) that had improved?

Yes, it was all of that he reported to the newspaper. Pitching is complicated but he was nevertheless finding ways to be more effective with the same group that had performed poorly the year before. But, and this was important, something more significant than technical improvements was going on.

Undergirding all of his approaches was the simple truth given to him many years ago by a veteran coach. That coach told him that “pitching was a people business.”

Everything revolved around working more effectively with and through people. The new coach had begun emphasizing relationships, communication, trust and all those other things that help people work together better for a common cause. Obvious, you might think, but it is a simple understanding often ignored by other coaches that are convinced that superior mechanics alone win games.

What about business strategy and competitive intelligence?