I’ve told versions of this story before, but I was reminded of it again today.

When I was in grad school studying both architecture and real estate, I used to walk back and forth across campus and jump between two very different kinds of academic experiences. On the one side of campus, it was taboo to talk about money. And on the other end, the only important thing to talk about was money. (I am exaggerating in both cases, but I think only slightly.)

Given that I was studying and genuinely interested in both, this always felt like a weird false dichotomy. I mean, why not care about, you know, multiple things? But that’s generally not the way it was. Talking about money tainted the purity of design. And talking about things like design and beauty felt out of place and less serious in a room where cap rates were being debated and serious financial models were being honed.

This is not to say that nobody was thinking across disciplines. I was in a joint program, after all. I can also remember attending a lunch & learn where a student asked a seasoned real estate executive what he should study in addition to finance. The response he got was something along the lines of, “the furthest thing from finance. Study something that will give you a different perspective on real estate.”

I remember this really resonating with me — probably because I was searching for breadcrumbs to make me feel like less of an outsider at Wharton. Still, this came across as a unique perspective at the time.

Knowing how money stuff works is absolutely fundamental. (We need to teach more of it in schools to young people.) And as a developer, it all starts with managing risk, executing (i.e. doing what we said we would do), and being an honest steward of other people’s money. Don’t do this, and you likely won’t be a developer for very long.

But then, what else? What unique insights can we bring to the assumptions that feed a finely honed model? Fast forward to today and this is now the basis for how the Globizen team aims to look at real estate opportunities. We want to cover all ends of campus. And that means we are more than okay talking about unserious things like design and beauty.

One of the important things that I remember them drilling into our heads in business school was about how to write a business memo. This might not seem like a big deal, but it is. Emails, decks, and recommendations are ubiquitous in business.

I remember three main points.

One, use clear and concise writing. If you can use fewer words, do that. Two, be decisive. In fact, they used to tell us that being decisively wrong was always better than being vaguely correct. And three, be as quantitative as possible.

If you can replace words with numbers, you should do that. For example, instead of saying that something recently increased significantly, it is far more effective to say that something increased by 27% over the last 18 days.

I was reminded of this earlier today when I came across this:

Supposedly, it is what Amazon used to tell its employees back in 2018. I don't know the source, but the tips sound right and make sense. Be concise. Use data. Eliminate weasel words. And make sure you're communicating a "what". In other words, be decisive.

I had coffee this morning with an engineer who is going back to business school in order to segue into real estate development. This is a fairly typical journey. Lots of people come into development from a related discipline. In my case, it was architecture (even though I never practiced architecture). It was also the case when I went to Rotman that something like a third of the class had a background in some sort of science or engineering field.

However, one thing I did mention this morning was that he will likely find that he will need to unlearn certain things as he moves forward. Every discipline tends to indoctrinate us with a certain way of thinking about the world. Lawyers tend to be a certain way. Engineers tend to be a certain way. And architects tend to be a certain way.

In my case, I found that architecture school taught me to be, among other things, an intense perfectionist. The modus operandi in design studios is that your project is never ever complete. The more you work on it, the better it will become. And as a result, you should feel a deep onus to work on it as much as humanly possible. But in business, this isn't practical. In the vast majority of cases, speed over perfection will serve you better.

I believe wholeheartedly in multi-disciplinary backgrounds, and maybe this is one of the reasons why. It shows you what you should unlearn. What would you say your biases are?