When a key employee started a competing firm and took one of our clients with them, I was furious. They’d signed a non-compete and an NDA, so as far as I was concerned, they were clearly in the wrong. I knew I had to respond. If I didn’t fight it, did that mean my agreements

I heard the same criticism in employee surveys, exit interviews, and even from people on my senior leadership team. I was too critical.Hard to please.Rarely satisfied. And each time I heard it, some version of this thought went through my mind: But am I wrong? Usually, I thought I wasn’t. The proposal could be stronger.

Would people still respect me if I said I didn’t know?  I didn’t think so.So I rarely said it.  I believed my business was growing and profitable because I knew things other people didn’t know. My expertise helped me win clients and earn the respect of my team. Knowing made me feel smart and important.

They’re great.They’re impossible.And you can’t afford to lose them. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. You have lots of evidence for the “great” part: They’re reliable. Everyone likes them. They know where everything is and they’ve been with you for years.  Then there’s the other part. The part about how their actual job isn’t getting done. Or maybe it’s the other kind of

There is always more to do. That’s what makes the voice in my head so convincing. It’s technically right. And the voice isn’t new. When I was ten, as soon as I finished my Frosted Flakes, it would start urging me to make the bed, read the book, practice the piano.  Plus there was always the bike to

My husband loves to tell the story about something I said when we first met. “I’ve created my reality by thinking a certain way and if you challenge it, everything could fall apart. I have to believe what I’m doing is right and stay focused on where I’m going, not on what could go wrong.” He thought