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There’s a wry humor in the observation: “You see, nowadays we give ethics training to corporate executives. I had attended one course. They called it corporate ethics. The management schools have big big professors who teach these subjects. We want our business managers to be ethical. But if profit is the basic motive force of trade, ethics seem to be a non-sequitur!”
This moment from Seru My Love is both amusing and deeply thought-provoking. It shines a light on a contradiction at the heart of modern business—a contradiction we all sense, but rarely speak about so plainly.
We live in a world where ethics classes are scheduled between finance and marketing lectures, where glossy brochures promise “values-driven leadership,” and where every corporation has a code of conduct displayed in its lobby. Yet, when the bottom line is king, when profit is the engine that drives every decision, ethics can feel like an afterthought—a box to tick, a slogan to repeat, but not a guiding star.
I remember sitting in a similar training once, nodding along as a well-meaning professor spoke about honesty, fairness, and social responsibility. The words were beautiful, the intentions sincere. But as soon as the class ended, the real world came rushing back in—targets to meet, competitors to outrun, margins to protect. In that world, ethics often takes a back seat to survival.
And yet, the question lingers: must it be this way? Is there room for kindness, integrity, and conscience in a world ruled by profit?
Seru My Love doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it invites us to reflect on the choices we make every day. It asks us to imagine a world where ethics isn’t a non-sequitur, but a natural part of how we do business—a world where profit and principle walk hand in hand.
Perhaps the true measure of success isn’t just in the numbers we report, but in the lives we touch, the trust we build, and the legacy we leave behind. In the end, maybe the greatest profit is the one that can’t be measured at all.