If a drug dealer, who has more to lose, can open up about their dreams with me, no need, no intention beyond the relationship… Maybe I’m not the projected safety problem. Am I?! Same as meeting in a golf pitch. The abuse of the vessel. It ain’t sport, it’s business.

One of the things that makes me different from many people is that I genuinely value the gates that open between people.

Most people seem to value the transaction.

I value the relationship.

The transaction is simply the doorway through which the relationship entered.

That distinction matters more than people realise.

Recently, I found myself in a situation where I was trying to clarify what another person was saying. The signal was poor. There was background noise. I could not hear them clearly. They could not hear me clearly. So I did what I always do.

I asked questions.

Not to challenge.

Not to expose.

Not to create drama.

To understand.

Yet somehow the act of asking for clarification was interpreted as disrespect.

As though seeking understanding was an attack.

As though wanting precision was an offence.

And I realised something.

This is not a rare occurrence.

I have seen this pattern many times.

Not only in business.

Not only in friendships.

Not only in romantic relationships.

Everywhere.

People often experience questions as accusations.

Not because questions are aggressive.

Because questions illuminate.

Questions reveal gaps.

Questions reveal uncertainty.

Questions reveal things that have not yet been articulated properly.

And every lack carries an energy of its own.

People often speak about lack as though it is emptiness.

It is not.

Lack has presence.

Lack has weight.

Lack has tension.

If someone asks whether you finished your homework and you have not finished it, you immediately feel something inside yourself.

Not because the question hurt you.

Because the question illuminated something that already existed.

The feeling was there before the question arrived.

The question simply revealed it.

That is what happens in many conversations.

Someone asks for clarity.

The other person feels the discomfort of their own lack of clarity.

Then the discomfort gets projected back onto the person asking.

The question becomes the problem.

The confusion remains untouched.

I have never found that useful.

Because I am not interested in winning conversations.

I am interested in understanding.

When this particular situation happened, I explained exactly that.

I said that if asking questions is interpreted as not coming correct, then that interpretation belongs to the other person.

My intention was understanding.

Not conflict.

Not disrespect.

Not confrontation.

Understanding.

And something interesting happened.

The moment the misunderstanding was named, the relationship corrected itself.

The person clarified their position.

I clarified mine.

The business relationship remained the business relationship.

We moved forward.

Simple.

No unnecessary drama.

No theatre.

No performance.

Just two people returning to the purpose of the relationship.

And that is where I think many people become confused.

They think I value the transaction.

I do not.

I value the gate.

The transaction is merely the gate.

The relationship is what matters.

Some of the most meaningful conversations I have had in my life began inside transactional relationships.

I have had better conversations with people selling me things than some people have with their closest friends.

I had a marijuana dealer years ago who remains one of my favourite examples.

The exchange itself would take seconds.

Then we would spend fifteen minutes talking.

About life.

Dreams.

Projects.

Business ideas.

Family.

Growth.

Humanity.

The transaction was never the point.

The relationship was.

The transaction simply introduced us.

I have experienced the same thing while serving customers.

People often think hospitality is about food and drinks.

It is not.

Food and drinks are the transaction.

The real service is the relationship.

The atmosphere.

The conversation.

The recognition.

The moment of humanity between two people who may never meet again.

I have experienced it with customers.

I have experienced it with coaches.

I have experienced it with suppliers.

I have experienced it with strangers.

Years later, some of those relationships still exist despite the original transaction disappearing long ago.

The business ended.

The connection remained.

That is because the transaction was never the relationship.

It was only the introduction.

This is why I sometimes struggle with the modern world.

Everything is becoming more transactional.

Faster.

Shorter.

More efficient.

More optimised.

And somehow less human.

People measure value through the exchange itself.

I measure value through what the exchange creates.

Did we understand each other better?

Did we learn something?

Did we leave stronger?

Did we leave clearer?

Did we contribute something useful to each other’s lives?

That matters far more to me than the money exchanged.

Because if we can remain connected after the transaction disappears, then the relationship was real.

And if the relationship only exists while the transaction exists, perhaps there was never much relationship there in the first place.

This is why I believe we should stop trying to make every relationship transactional.

Instead, we should make every transaction conscious.

The transaction will happen regardless.

Money will exchange hands.

Services will be provided.

Products will be delivered.

Contracts will be signed.

But the question remains:

How did we treat each other while it happened?

Because the transaction may end.

The relationship may not.

And if there is one thing I have learned repeatedly throughout my life, it is this:

The gates that open between people are often far more valuable than the thing that opened them.