The Prison of Being Right

I've been sitting on this story for a while, hesitant to share it. But I think it's time.

Since childhood, I was "the smart kid." Good at reading. Excellent at math. The one called up to solve problems on the board. Every gold star, every teacher's praise reinforced what would become my cage: my value was tied to being the smartest person in the room.

This pattern followed me into my career. In sales, I wasn't winning because I was great at relationships—I was winning because I could answer every technical question. Once again, being smart paid off.

Or so I thought.

Here's the thing about making intelligence your identity: it becomes a prison. Every room becomes a stage where you need to prove your worth. Every conversation becomes an opportunity to demonstrate your knowledge. Every interaction becomes a performance.

And performance kills accountability.

The Leadership Trap

In leadership, this became toxic.

I cared more about having the right answer than doing right by my team. My need to be the smartest person in the room was suffocating their potential.

I didn't see it. Not for years.

I thought my job was to show everyone how smart I was. Smugness became my shield. Self-importance became my sword.

Then came a Leadership Circle assessment at Rocket Companies—a 360-degree review that brought me to my knees.

Here's the gut punch: I saw myself as the most selfless leader imaginable. Someone who always put others' needs first. The ultimate team player.

The feedback from my peers? They saw something completely different: a leader focused on recognition, personal gain, someone who wasn't really concerned with the greater good.

A perfect picture of a "reactive" leader: closed, defensive, focused on being right.

Talk about humbling. The gap between how I viewed myself and how others experienced me wasn't just wide—it was an ocean.

The Accountability Shield

Here's what I've come to understand: Being "the smart one" is one of the most effective ways to avoid accountability.

Think about it.

If you're always right, you never have to examine your decisions. If you have all the answers, you never have to listen to feedback. If your identity is tied to your intelligence, admitting you're wrong feels like dying.

So you don't.

You explain. You justify. You rationalize. You find ways to be technically correct even when you're fundamentally wrong.

I did this for twenty years.

Every time someone pushed back on my ideas, I saw it as an intellectual challenge to overcome, not information to consider. Every time a project failed, I found external factors to blame. Every time a relationship suffered, I convinced myself the other person just didn't understand.

Being "right" was my way of never being accountable for my impact.

The Question That Changed Everything

After 20+ years in my career, someone finally said something that cracked the foundation of my prison:

"It's not about WHO is right, it's about WHAT is right."

Seven words. Complete devastation.

I'd spent my entire career making every conversation about me. My knowledge. My insights. My value.

But leadership isn't a performance. It's a responsibility.

And real accountability means being responsible for your impact, not your intentions.

I intended to help my team. I intended to drive results. I intended to be a great leader.

But my impact? I was suffocating potential. Creating fear. Making everything about my need to be seen as the smartest person in the room.

Intentions don't matter if your impact is harmful.

The Shift

Something unexpected happened in that moment of devastation—curiosity sparked.

"Why do others see me this way?"

That single question became the doorway to everything that followed.

I chose to get certified in the Leadership Circle framework. Not because it was easier. Because something in me knew I needed to go deeper into this work.

Here's what I learned: Working with other leaders through their own journeys didn't just deepen my understanding—it transformed how I show up every single day. Not just at work, but for my family, my friends, myself.

Every time I sit with a leader starting their journey, I discover something new about my own.

The real breakthrough? It was never about me or my intelligence.

True leadership isn't about being the smartest person in the room. It's about creating space for everyone's wisdom to emerge.

Sometimes the most intelligent thing you can do is shut up and listen.

The Ongoing Work

I wish I could tell you I'm fixed. That I figured it out and now I'm some enlightened leader who never falls into old patterns.

That would be a lie.

The prison of intelligence doesn't disappear overnight. It took decades to build. It will take years to fully dismantle.

But here's what's different now: I catch myself.

When I feel that familiar urge to prove I'm the smartest person in the room, I recognize it for what it is. Not wisdom. Fear.

When I start explaining instead of listening, I notice. I pause. I ask a question instead.

When my ego wants to be right, I remind myself: It's not about who is right. It's about what is right.

This is what accountability looks like at the deepest level. Not just being responsible for your tasks and deliverables. Being responsible for who you're being in every interaction.

Your Turn

Where might there be a gap between how you view yourself and how others experience you?

What feedback have you been avoiding that might hold the key to your next breakthrough?

Sometimes the most painful revelations are actually gifts. And often, our deepest transformations come from seeing ourselves through others' eyes.

That feedback you've been avoiding? It might just be the breakthrough you've been waiting for.