BJ Murphy: Wisdom, Regret, and the Time We Have Left
The older you get, the wiser you are. The trouble is, you’ve got less time to implement that wisdom.
Words I've said to myself and out loud multiple times over the past few weeks. I'm not exactly sure why, but I tend to be incredibly optimistic with a since of mortality and giving back at all times.
At 44, almost 45, I know I’ll be lucky to see another 45 years. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes — financially, in love, in business, education, health. But one thing I’ve consistently done well is take my time on big decisions. And once I’ve made them, I commit fully. No looking back.
As John Addison of Citi Group once said — and I’m paraphrasing — “Decide ends in -cide, like suicide or homicide. -Cide means the death of all other options.” Once I decide, that’s it. I move forward.
I love speaking life into our interns and young people. I often tell them they have until about 30–32 to figure out what they want to do. That leaves enough time to make mistakes and still recover. Travel. Take the unpaid internship. Work three or four jobs. Chase what brings joy and purpose. Then decide how you want to give back.
Between 20 and 25, four specific experiences shaped my outlook:
After working at Target through two Christmases, I realized corporate retail wasn’t for me.
A trip to BB&T’s headquarters while I was at ECU showed me that banking operated in black and white. It lacked color. I understand it now, but even then, I knew it wasn’t for me.
I worked in the restaurant industry for my mother-in-law and her late business partner. I learned a lot about managing people and running a business. Still, I knew that wasn’t a path I wanted for life.
As downtown Kinston manager, with a $400,000 budget and a Board of Directors, I learned I never wanted a traditional boss again. I wanted to control my own destiny.
Those experiences molded me into who I am today. I’ve made many mistakes and taken a lot of calculated risks since. Some worked, some didn’t.
This summer, I’ve asked my interns — and my daughters — to read Rich Dad, Poor Dad. I first read it 20 years ago and just re-read it. It reminded me how many lessons I failed to act on. I understood them, believed them, enjoyed them… but never implemented them.
That’s the bad news. The good news? It’s never too late. Colonel Sanders didn’t start KFC until his 60s. He’s not the only one who proved that action matters more than timing.
If I’ve done anything right, it’s this: I’ve surrounded myself with people who are smarter, more skilled, and more passionate than I am. I’ve also never taken personal credit for the good we’ve done — not in business, not as mayor. None of it was possible without the key individuals who helped bring those visions to life.
I know this has been a bit of a ramble. I’ve simply come to understand something about myself: at my core, I’m a waste of talent. But when you mix that with a desire to leave things better than I found them — and surround it with the right people — big things can happen.
When I left the mayor’s office, we had zero tax increases, yet more investment in roads, lower crime, and lower electric rates than ever before. That wasn’t a solo act. It was a team effort.
The next generation can’t rely on personal accomplishments or self-accolades to achieve greatness. They have to learn to share in success and give credit to the people who help make visions reality.
That’s how we leave the world better than we found it.