“You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.”
— William Blake
Advice is everywhere. It flows freely from the internet, from AI, from friends, acquaintances, and the fellow who seems to have an opinion on everything under the sun. But when it comes down to it, what is good advice and what is bad advice? The William Blake quote sums it up neatly, yet in the end we still have to make a decision—and that decision is often shaped by the advice we receive.
On a smaller, rather trivial note, an acquaintance visited my home and observed that the back door was rather old—buckled, bent, and showing its age. His advice was immediate: go and buy a replacement from a second-hand salvage company. What this acquaintance knows about doors is another matter. Had I followed that advice, I would have ended up with some dreary modern door that bore no relation to the character or aesthetics of the house.
I nodded politely. This is someone who dispenses advice left, right and centre. Some of it is reasonable, but much of it seems to come from that familiar know-it-all impulse—the subtle desire to bolster one’s own standing by having something to say about everything.
Instead, I did a bit of homework. I found a carpenter who could repair and rehabilitate the existing door. It was sanded, restored, varnished—and now it looks beautiful. A small victory, perhaps, but a telling one.
That is a harmless example. The stakes are low. If you get it wrong, you replace a door.
But advice does not remain confined to such harmless territory. It moves into larger, more consequential areas. What estate agent to use. What car to buy. Which lawyer to trust. Which accountant or tax adviser to appoint. Whether to invest—and with whom.
Here the ground becomes far less certain.
The difficulty is that even those who appear to know what they are doing cannot always be trusted. Experience, reputation, recommendations—all the usual markers we rely on—can prove unreliable. We have all heard of lawyers misusing trust funds. Business owners who defraud their own companies. Corruption, deceit, and misrepresentation seem to surface with unsettling regularity.
And as one grows older, the margin for error narrows. When income-generating opportunities have diminished or ceased altogether, advice becomes critical. A misstep is no longer an inconvenience; it can be devastating.
Over the December period, I heard of a man who had inherited a substantial sum from his family. Acting on advice—whether given or sought—he invested millions into a company specialising in retirement funds. This was not some obscure operation. The company advertised widely. Its owner appeared on radio, hosted podcasts, conducted presentations, and projected every appearance of legitimacy and success.
Something, however, was very wrong.
The result was catastrophic. The individual lost the entirety of his investment. The figure involved is confidential, but it is staggering. While he is not completely destitute—there are other assets to sustain him—his wealth, as he knew it, has effectively been wiped out.
At first, I was sceptical. These stories often grow in the telling. But I looked up the company. To my surprise, it had indeed been shut down by the authorities. There were prosecutions, prison sentences, and a trail of financial ruin left behind.
That is the other side of advice.
Good advice can save you time, effort, money, and a great deal of heartache. Bad advice can do precisely the opposite—and sometimes far worse.
So where does that leave us?
The only sensible answer, and it may sound like a truism, is to do your homework. Question what you are told. Look beyond the surface. Seek more than one opinion. And, importantly, understand that certainty is often an illusion.
It is a truism, yes—but it remains true.
Because in the end, you are the one who must live with the consequences of the advice you choose to follow.
