Weekly Bouquet

Inheritance and Power

Flowers

There’s a story I keep thinking about. A woman once said her non-negotiable in dating was that her partner had to be kind to her mother—not just polite, but genuinely kind. When they started dating, her boyfriend began sending her mother flowers. Every week. Five years later, he still does.

At first, I thought: thoughtful. Sweet. Maybe even romantic. And then I thought: wow—that’s a lot. My mind spiraled — from “It’s hard to do anything consistently for five years,” to “Do my kids even like me?” to “Honestly, I’d rather get a car wash and a full tank of gas.”

But it wasn’t the consistency that stuck with me. It was the precision. The message beneath the gesture. This wasn’t just about affection—it was about understanding power. It was a signal. Not just “I love you,” but “I know who the gatekeeper is.” A tribute to the queen mother, delivered weekly, as if to say: I understand the system, and I’m here to play by its rules.

And of course, that sent me straight into corporate hell.

The Transfer

In families and companies alike, there’s always an unspoken hierarchy. One generation holds the keys. The other tries to earn them. Sometimes the handoff is mutual—grounded in respect. But more often, it’s a long, delicate negotiation built on access, loyalty, and emotional bookkeeping. Fewer flower deliveries. More budget meetings.

In families, we call it generational wealth. But it’s never just about money—it’s about knowing how things work, what matters, and who you need to keep happy. In business, we call it succession planning. But most of the time, it’s closer to succession performance: guarded calendars, inherited grudges, leadership defined by endurance instead of intention.

The truth is, anyone can send flowers. Schedule a check-in. Show up for optics. But that’s not care. That’s choreography.

So the question is: what are you actually handing down?

The families that thrive don’t just pass along assets. They pass along meaning. They tell the stories. They explain the rules. They create the kind of continuity that doesn’t need pageantry to hold its shape. The companies that last should be doing the same. Because if all we’re offering is status and burnout, don’t be surprised when the next generation walks. No one wants to inherit a kingdom built on silence.

Because Bitches, the handoff is already happening—with or without ceremony. The next chapter doesn’t wait for permission. You’re holding more than you think. Make it worth carrying forward.