Twenty decisions for a lifetime. Then the card stops.
Warren Buffett gives business school students a thought experiment. Imagine you are handed a card at the start of your career with twenty slots on it. Every investment decision you ever make punches one slot. When the card is full, you are done. No more decisions, for the rest of your life.
Under those rules, he asks, how would you behave.
You would stop dabbling instantly. You would research like your life depended on it, because it would. You would let a hundred decent opportunities pass without regret, waiting for the few you understood so deeply that betting big felt obvious. And when you finally punched a slot, you would load up and sit still.
Here is the honest footnote. Buffett himself has made far more than twenty investments. The card was never a rule he followed. It is a lens, think as if you had to, because the scarcity is what produces the quality.
Now bring this to the promoters I sit with. The card explains something I see constantly. The businessmen in the most trouble are rarely the ones who made one bad decision. They are the ones who made forty average ones. A new vertical here, a plot of land there, a partnership someone brought over dinner, a trading punt on the side. Each one reasonable. Together, a portfolio of half-conviction, none of it studied deeply, all of it demanding attention.
Activity feels like progress. It photographs well, fills the calendar, impresses the club. But wealth, in business and in investing, has always come from the opposite shape. A handful of decisions taken with full weight, held through noise, left alone to compound.
Try the card on yourself. List your last five major capital decisions. How many would you have spent a punch on if only twenty existed. That gap, between what you did and what you would have done under scarcity, is the cost of treating decisions as free.
Bet rarely. Bet big. Then sit.
Of your last five big bets, how many would have earned a punch on the card?
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