What an Old Chinese Fable Teaches Us About Remodeling, Business, and Life
There’s an old Chinese fable that has stayed with me for years. The older I get, the more true it seems—especially in remodeling.
One day, a farmer’s horse runs away. The neighbors come by to tell him how terrible his luck is.
The farmer simply replies, “Maybe. Maybe not.”
The next day, the horse returns with three wild horses. The neighbors suddenly decide the farmer is incredibly fortunate.
Again, he answers, “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Then the farmer’s son tries to tame one of the wild horses. He gets thrown off and breaks his leg.
The neighbors shake their heads. More bad luck.
The farmer gives the same response: “Maybe. Maybe not.”
A week later, the army comes through conscripting young men for war. They pass over the farmer’s son because of the broken leg.
Maybe. Maybe not.
Remodeling Has a Way of Testing Perspective
I’ve always liked that story because it feels true to life. But it feels especially true in business—and particularly in remodeling.
This industry pulls people into emotional extremes. One week, you feel like everything is finally clicking into place.
The next week, a project blows up. A client changes direction, a subcontractor disappears, or the schedule falls apart.
It becomes very easy to label every event immediately. This is a disaster. This changes everything. We’re finally winning.
But most of the time, we don’t actually know what anything means in the moment.
When “Bad News” Turns Out to Be Good
A client backing out of a project can feel brutal. You invested time, energy, and attention into the relationship.
Then later, you discover they had a reputation for slow payment, indecision, or burning through contractors. What felt like lost revenue may have actually been protection.
The same thing can happen with subcontractors. Losing somebody mid-project can feel like chaos in the moment.
But sometimes the scramble leads you to somebody better. Better communication, stronger craftsmanship, and more professionalism.
What looked like a setback becomes a change you should have made months earlier.
The Hidden Value of Slow Seasons
Slow seasons can feel emotionally heavy. When the phone gets quiet, it’s easy to start questioning everything.
You question the market. You question your business. Sometimes, you even question yourself.
But slower periods also expose things you were too busy to notice before. Weak estimating, poor follow-up, unclear roles, and soft systems suddenly become impossible to ignore.
The hard conversations you kept postponing finally have room to happen. The systems you never had time to fix finally get attention.
Sometimes the season you never would have chosen becomes the season that helps your business mature.
The Jobs That Teach You the Most
The same pattern shows up on difficult projects. Hidden conditions, scope creep, and structural surprises behind the walls can drain you financially and emotionally.
There’s no need to pretend those experiences are enjoyable. They aren’t.
But often, the jobs that hurt the most teach the lessons you carry for years. They sharpen your process and improve your contracts.
They force better communication. They make you steadier, more careful, and more professional the next time around.
The Discipline of Not Deciding Too Early
That’s why I keep coming back to the farmer. His response isn’t blind optimism.
He isn’t pretending loss doesn’t hurt. He isn’t pretending uncertainty is enjoyable.
He simply refuses to decide too early what an event means. He doesn’t write the final chapter while he’s still in the middle of the story.
That takes discipline. Real discipline.
The Neighbors Never Go Away
In remodeling, the neighbors are always around. Sometimes they’re actual people.
Other times, they’re the voices in your own head. This is terrible. This is amazing. This changes everything. This ruins everything.
The emotions swing hard and fast. But the farmer keeps farming.
There’s something powerful in that idea. Not detached. Not indifferent. Just grounded.
Able to respond without overreacting. Able to keep moving without turning every setback into an identity crisis—or every win into a reason to relax too soon.
Steady Leadership Matters
That kind of steadiness matters in this business. Clients need it. Teams need it. Leaders definitely need it.
The ability to say, “We don’t like this, but we’re not going to panic either,” changes everything.
Strong leadership means dealing with what’s in front of you. Learning what you can and letting time reveal the rest.
Maybe. Maybe not.
A Better Way to Think Through Problems
To me, “maybe, maybe not” isn’t resignation. It’s humility.
It’s the reminder that we’re usually too close to the moment to judge it clearly. Some losses are setting up something better. Some wins come bundled with problems we can’t see yet.
Most of business—and most of life—has to be lived forward before it can be understood backward.
So here’s a simple exercise worth trying. Think about one situation in your business that feels especially heavy right now.
Maybe it’s a stalled project. A staffing issue. A difficult client. Or a season that isn’t unfolding the way you hoped.
Write it down. Then ask yourself three questions:
- What story am I telling myself about this right now?
- What else might be true that I cannot see yet?
- If I stopped reacting and started leading, what would the next right step be?
That small pause can change a lot. It creates space between the event and your interpretation of it.
And that space is often where better leadership begins.
Stay Steady
You could even turn this into a journal prompt:
- Where in my business am I declaring victory or defeat too early?
- What would it look like to stay steady, do the work, and let the story unfold a little longer?
That’s the work. Not pretending everything is fine.
Not denying frustration. Just refusing to hand over your peace or your judgment to every twist and turn of the moment.
In this trade, the story is rarely over when you think it is. Keep building. Keep learning. Keep doing the next right thing.
And when the moment feels bigger than it really is, remember the farmer.
Maybe. Maybe not.
