The Paradox of Valuation

It began as a simple conversation in the car.

The rain had just started to fall over Johor Bahru, the kind that slows the world down and makes you think more than you plan to. Samuel was driving his old Lexus, and I was in my Mercedes S400 Hybrid. Two cars, two stories, two kinds of value.

We laughed when I told him, “Your car and mine now share the same market price.”

It was true. His aging Lexus, bought at half the cost of my Mercedes years ago, was now worth almost exactly the same on the used market. My car, once a symbol of excellence and status, had depreciated faster than his. The math was absurd but real.

That conversation lingered in me long after the rain stopped. How could a car that once cost three times more now be worth the same as one that had started with less? Was value just a number? Or had the market missed something deeper?

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became: the world prices things differently from how life values them.

A luxury car can lose its worth overnight, while an old, reliable one quietly preserves its dignity. A student who scores high at twelve may stumble at twenty, while the slow learner finds his rhythm later and builds something timeless. A leader can hold a title one year and lose relevance the next, simply because the market moves on.

This paradox, the gap between price and worth, is everywhere.

It is in the workplace, in our schools, in how we measure success, and even in how we see ourselves.

Stephen Covey called this the inside-out paradigm. He reminds us that lasting effectiveness starts not with how the world sees you but with how you see yourself: your character, not your credentials.

When we anchor our worth to the external market, to salary, recognition, or approval, we begin to live from the outside in. But when we anchor it to principles such as reliability, contribution, and purpose, we begin to live from the inside out.

The market depreciates what cannot be traded.

Life appreciates what cannot be replaced.

Somewhere between the Lexus and the Mercedes lies a mirror of human worth.

It is not about who started better, but who preserved better. It is not about who looked shinier at the beginning, but who remained reliable over time.

True value, like true character, compounds quietly.

Price reflects perception, but value reveals purpose.

Story and Struggle

A few days after that drive, another scene played in my mind.

Singapore had just completed its PSLE exams. The entire nation seemed to hold its breath for twelve-year-olds. Parents refreshed group chats for leaked questions before their children even left the exam hall. It was a spectacle both impressive and heartbreaking, a society that prized precision but forgot proportion.

People say PSLE is an exam for students.

But every parent in Singapore knows it is an exam for them too. The system may test children’s writing, comprehension, and math, but what it truly measures is the adults’ appetite for comparison.

And as I watched from across the border, I saw something of myself there too.

My own children live very differently. Their lives are loose, exploratory, full of laughter and learning through mistakes. My eldest son took time to adjust when he moved from early years into primary school. His writing was messy, sometimes reversed. His letters danced off the page in every direction. And while I knew as an educator that this was normal, something inside me was unsettled.

It was not his learning that bothered me, it was the judgment I imagined from others.

“Why can’t he write properly yet?”

“Isn’t he in an international school?”

“Shouldn’t he be ahead?”

Even before anyone spoke, I could hear the echo of expectation.

Grandparents comparing, relatives evaluating, and the unspoken pressure to prove that international schooling meant superiority.

But the question that kept haunting me was: what does “better” really mean?

If my son could spell perfectly but feared failure, had I raised him well?

If he wrote neatly but lost his wonder, would I call that success?

Value, again, was being mispriced, not in a car market but in childhood.

In Malaysia and Singapore, we often measure children like assets: early achievers are “premium models,” late bloomers are “risky investments.” But growth is not linear, and potential does not mature on schedule. A child’s worth cannot be compressed into twelve exam papers. Some bloom at six, some at sixteen, some never stop blooming.

When Covey wrote about the Maturity Continuum, from Dependence to Independence to Interdependence, he was describing life itself. Every stage of growth demands patience. If we rush the process, we interrupt the compounding of value.

Just as a hybrid engine needs quiet time to recharge, children need quiet seasons to grow without being judged.

As a father, I have learned that to love well is to allow process.

And process takes time.

Each of my children took a different path even in something as simple as getting rid of their diapers. One at three, another at four, another at six. There were nights of wet sheets, gentle reminders, and sometimes tears, but never punishment. Because what we call “delay” in one child may simply be “preparation” in another.

Leadership is no different.

Organizations and people mature at different paces. Some leaders peak early, others take years to find rhythm. The danger comes when we measure worth by speed instead of substance.

When we force outcomes before readiness, we create dysfunction, in children, in companies, and in ourselves.

That is why I often remind my team: we are not building performers, we are cultivating reliability.

Reliability is the Lexus of human character; it appreciates through time.

Flashy potential is the S-Class of human ego; it depreciates the moment trends shift.

We live in a culture obsessed with launch dates, rankings, and first-mover advantages. But sometimes the ones who last are the ones who arrive later, with depth, clarity, and quiet strength.

As Covey said, “Private victories precede public victories.” The foundation of worth is always invisible before it is admired.

And so, as I watched my son grow slowly, imperfectly, joyfully, I began to see what the car story was trying to tell me all along.

True value does not fade. It matures.

Insight and Meaning

The more I reflected on that drive and on my son’s quiet journey through learning, the clearer one truth became: the world often works from the outside in, but life matures from the inside out.

Stephen Covey called this the principle-centered paradigm.

True growth begins not with image but with character, not with what people see but with what sustains unseen.

When I looked again at the two cars, I realised one thing: the Lexus held its value not because it was more glamorous, but because it was more reliable. It was built for longevity, not applause. Its systems were simple, its design purposeful. It aged gracefully because it was built around principles that did not expire.

That is exactly how the 7 Habits work. Each habit preserves value by anchoring life to principles rather than validation.

Habit 1: Be Proactive — Define Your Own Worth

Every time we let others define our worth, we surrender the power to choose.

When parents compare grades, when leaders chase positions, when companies mirror competitors, they are reacting, not leading.

Proactivity begins when we stop waiting to be valued and start choosing how we will live, serve, and contribute.

Worth is not conferred; it is cultivated.

Like the Lexus, true value does not rise and fall with opinion. It endures because it was designed to.

Habit 2: Begin With the End in Mind — Purpose Before Performance

A car depreciates because it was never built to last forever, but a life built on purpose appreciates over time.

Covey’s second habit challenges us to define success by what endures.

In Stellar Education Group, we remind ourselves: Purpose first. Profit follows.

What we build for money disappears when the market shifts.

What we build for meaning compounds across generations.

The real luxury of life is not speed or power. It is clarity, the ability to know what you stand for and why.

Habit 3: Put First Things First — Preservation Over Perception

Price is what people pay; value is what something is truly worth.

We often overinvest in perception management while underinvesting in character preservation.

A Mercedes that sits idle deteriorates faster than a Toyota that runs faithfully every day.

Unused gifts rust faster than imperfect ones that stay in motion.

Maintenance matters more than marketing. Reliability is the new luxury.

Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw — Renewal as Preservation of Value

The used-car market rewards reliability for one reason: reliable things are easier to renew.

Covey’s seventh habit captures this perfectly. Renewal is the discipline of sustaining your edge physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

A car that receives regular maintenance performs like new for decades.

A person who renews consistently stays relevant for life.

The most effective people are not those who work endlessly but those who sharpen relentlessly.

The Banking Analogy — Compounding Value Over Time

Anne Scheiber, a retired auditor, lived quietly in a rent-controlled apartment in New York. She retired with only five thousand dollars in savings. When she passed away at 101, she left twenty-two million to a university.

Her secret was compounding: patient reinvestment over fifty years.

Leadership works the same way. Every act of integrity, patience, and purpose is a deposit into the account of trust.

Most people chase high-yield moments, but the real wealth of leadership grows invisibly, one deposit at a time.

In Malaysia’s fast, image-driven economy, we love the quick win. But compounding reminds us that what lasts is never built in months; it matures through decades of reliability.

Value that compounds quietly outlives value that spikes noisily.

Habit 5: Seek First to Understand, Then to Be Understood — The Hidden Value of Empathy

Empathy is relational banking.

Every time we listen first, every time we choose understanding over instruction, we make a deposit into another person’s emotional account.

Empathy compounds.

When people feel seen, they give trust. When they are trusted, they grow. When they grow, they add value far beyond what can be measured.

Empathy, like compound interest, grows exponentially with consistency.

Habit 6: Synergize — Interdependence as Value Multiplication

A single car part may have a price, but together they create motion.

Covey’s idea of synergy captures this beautifully: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

At Stellar, we call it Transformational Innovation, amplifying strengths through collaboration.

A Lexus retains value not because each part is perfect, but because every part works harmoniously.

Likewise, leadership retains worth not through control but through connection.

To change the direction of our lives, principles must become practice. The next question is how we live this truth when the applause stops.

Action and Legacy

One day I wondered what would happen if I sold my car for parts. On paper, it made no sense. The parts were worth more than the whole.

A person, too, is often worth more in parts, not broken but in the sum of unseen contributions. The world measures your salary, title, or possessions, but those closest to you remember your tone, patience, and reliability.

That is the paradox of value.

The opposite of being valuable is being validated.

Validation demands recognition.

Value requires consistency.

Validation shouts for attention.

Value speaks through time.

In a culture built on speed and spectacle, it takes courage to choose value over validation. That is where legacy begins, in the daily renewal of principles no one applauds.

From Validation to Stewardship

At some point every leader faces the fading of position and applause. The temptation is to hold tighter. Yet leadership, like ownership, is temporary. We are stewards, not possessors.

The day I stepped down from my first directorship, the depreciation was instant. Fewer calls, quieter inbox, silence. But in that silence came perspective.

Like the S-Class losing its showroom shine, my title lost its external value. What remained: the relationships, the culture built, the people empowered were the parts that truly appreciated.

In Stellar’s vocabulary that is Servant Leadership: creating value that outlives you.

In Covey’s language it is interdependence, the maturity to make others capable of success without you.

To preserve value in leadership is to make yourself unnecessary without becoming irrelevant.

Be Reliable When You No Longer Need to Be

Every product eventually reaches its end of life. Every leader eventually steps aside. The question is not whether we will fade, but how.

Do we fade like luxury that could not outlast the hype, or like an instrument that only grows richer with age?

Reliability is not glamorous, but it is eternal.

It is the invisible equity of legacy. It accumulates through small, unseen acts: promises kept, humility shown, lessons passed on without fanfare.

In finance, reliability is compounding interest.

In leadership, it is quiet power.

In life, it is love made visible.

Revalue How You Measure

If you are a parent, revalue success. The child who is slower today may endure tomorrow.

If you are a leader, revalue achievement. The most trusted person in the room is often not the loudest but the most consistent.

If you are an educator, revalue progress. A student’s character is the true curriculum of life.

Every one of us is like a used car: depreciating externally, compounding internally.

The goal is not to stay shiny but to stay sound, to preserve principles so deeply that time itself cannot wear them out.

Because in the end, value is never about price.

It is about purpose that continues to pay dividends long after the market has moved on.

Wisdom in Simplicity

If price is what the world pays you,

value is what the world remembers you for.

Everything else fades: titles, trends, trophies.

But purpose, reliability, and renewal never lose their worth.

To live wisely is to live like the Lexus, quiet, enduring, and built to last.

And when you do, the market may still misprice you.

But time never will.