I’ve spent my entire life around people from every walk of life — business leaders, blue-collar workers, executives, flea-market regulars, customers, neighbors, and strangers who later turned into lifelong friends. One thing I’ve learned is that every person brings their own style into a conversation or negotiation, and some styles can collide like steel plates.

But there’s a philosophy I carry with me everywhere I go, something that has shaped the way I handle conflict, relationships, and the world around me:

It’s better to win people over than to win over them.

That belief didn’t come from a book. It came from decades of living, watching, learning, and choosing my battles carefully. Over the years I realized something important: you can “win” an argument and still lose the person. And if you lose the person, you’ve gained nothing.

I’ve never needed to overpower someone in a disagreement. If they raise their voice, I don’t need to match it. If they push hard, I don’t have to push back harder. Not because I’m passive — but because I’ve learned the fight rarely feels worth the wound. The older I get, the less interest I have in battles that steal my peace.

Some people lead with force. They’re sharp, fast, and competitive, and they come at you with a level of intensity that can overwhelm anyone who isn’t wired the same way. They negotiate like boxers, talk like they’re throwing punches, and treat every conversation like a contest. And that approach works for them. It gets results. It closes deals. It moves mountains.

But that style can steamroll people who don’t thrive on confrontation. Most folks aren’t interested in verbal combat. They don’t wake up wanting to argue. They want to live their lives, be heard, and be treated with respect.

Here’s a perfect example from my own life:

If someone aggressively tailgates me on the road, I don’t get angry anymore like I did when I was young. I don’t let them control my emotions. I simply pull over and let them pass. I don’t need to “win.” I don’t need to teach them a lesson. And the funny thing is, nine times out of ten, I catch up with them at the next light anyway. I’ll glance over, give them a smile, and that’s the end of it. I refuse to let their behavior dictate my mood for the rest of the day. Let them fly. Let them burn their own fuse. My peace is worth more than their impatience.

That philosophy shows up in other parts of my life too. If I feel cheated or used — whether in business or in my personal life — I don’t get into it with the person. I don’t chase them down for an apology or a confrontation. I simply remove them from my life. No anger, no fireworks, no drama. Just distance. People reveal who they are, and I respond accordingly. Some battles don’t deserve fighters.

People often mistake loudness for strength. But real strength is quiet. Real strength is steady. Real strength doesn’t need to bark, shove, or dominate. Real strength can take a breath, step aside, and keep moving forward without being dragged into someone else’s chaos.

The world stage isn’t much different. Whether it’s nations, leaders, or entire populations, those who have lived through danger, betrayal, or trauma often develop hard shells. They learn to protect themselves before they trust anyone else. When you’ve been burned enough times, caution becomes your default setting. You guard your home, your family, your people — and you trust slowly.

But there’s another kind of strength, the kind I’ve always gravitated toward. It’s the strength that says, “I won’t fight you unless I absolutely have to, but don’t mistake my calm for weakness.” It’s the strength that wins loyalty instead of fear, respect instead of resentment.

When you choose to win people over instead of winning over them, you’re playing the long game. You’re choosing relationships over ego, stability over chaos, and dignity over the cheap thrill of winning an argument.

A funny thing happens when you refuse to be pulled into unnecessary fights:
The people who thrive on conflict don’t know what to do with you. You don’t react. You don’t explode. You stay steady. And that alone puts you in control.

I’ve lived my life this way — deliberately. I’d rather walk away with dignity than stay and “win” by becoming someone I don’t want to be. And when I look back on my friendships, my career, my store, and the people I’ve helped over the years, this approach has given me something no argument ever could: loyalty, trust, and peace of mind.

Strength doesn’t have to roar.
Sometimes it just steps aside and keeps going.

And when you live that way, people — even the toughest ones — end up respecting you. Because strength recognizes strength, especially the kind that doesn’t need to announce itself.

In the end, I look at my life and realize just how blessed I truly am. I’ve got a family I love, a lifetime of stories, and more good days than bad ones behind me. And people ask me all the time, “Rich, how did you get so lucky?” My answer is simple and it always stays the same: luck has nothing to do with it. My peace comes from the choices I make, the battles I don’t fight, the people I let go, the ones I hold close, and the strength I carry quietly. Life rewards you when you stop trying to win every moment — and start trying to live every moment.