For ten years, we shared the same hallway. Ten years of coffee, conversations, and the same problems. But while I was building steps, he was measuring walls, convinced the crown belonged to him by birth. For ten years, he was selling the same story, while I was building a structure.
I remember when he joined the company, a few months after me. He arrived with a strong sense of importance, even though by then he had already gone through twenty, if not more, companies, getting fired from some, and in those where he couldn’t climb higher, he would leave on his own. He spoke openly about conflicts with most of them. And of course, it was never his fault.
He brought with him a spreadsheet of contacts, over 10,000 people, he said. He knew everyone. He was like a "brother" to all of them. Reality was far from that. Most of the people who knew him preferred not to stay in contact with him because of past experiences.
He belongs to that type of person, you know the kind, the ones who, when you first hear them, sound impressive, almost enjoyable to listen to. But if you pay closer attention, you realize he hasn’t answered the question at all. The whole speech is superficial, just nicely packaged. I used to joke that he was born to be a politician, speaking with a hidden agenda.
Although he had some good ideas, communication in relationships was not his strong side. Colleagues he perceived as “above” him, those he feared. He would find a hundred flaws in them and consider them the wrong fit for the team. Unlike me. I have always been happiest when I find someone smarter than myself. How much I can learn. How much we can grow together.
He fears them. I grow with them.
And of course, withholding information, that was his favorite activity, because it gave him a sense of power.
But five years ago, everything changed.
I became “the boss.” He didn’t, even though he desperately wanted it and tried with all his strength. The owner even created a new role for him, just to keep him calm. Even then, I knew, he would become a problem. For me personally, but also for the team. And that he would try, which he still does, to work behind my back. I’m fortunate to have a strong team and people I can truly rely on.
About a month after I became his superior, we had a meeting I will probably never forget.
As we were talking, he openly said, of course, first adding that I shouldn’t take it personally, that he believed this was a mistake and that I wasn’t suited for such a role. As he continued speaking, I became calm and simply let him talk. As he was pouring everything out, his face turned deep red, full of anger, and the whole outburst ended with one sentence:
“My father was a director. Everyone in my family were directors.”
In that moment, I felt sorry for him. I realized he wasn’t seeing me.
He was seeing all those directors from his family standing behind him, asking why he still hadn’t made it to the top. His ambition wasn’t about creating something. It was a panic driven fear of disappointing those who came before him.
What did I learn from those five years of observing his silent anger? Time is not the same as progress. You can spend a decade in the same building, but if you are afraid of the field, real work, and real relationships, you haven’t moved at all.
Ego is a poor navigator. When it feels threatened, it doesn’t try to grow. It tries to diminish the person in front of it. He cannot work with those who are above average, because they are living proof of his own gaps.
Legacy is a gift, not a debt. Leadership is not inherited.
It is built in those moments when you remain calm while someone else is shouting about their father, knowing that your results speak louder than any family tree.
Have you ever encountered an 'heir of an empty throne' in your career? How did you handle the shadow of their ego while trying to build something real?
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