“Why?” I asked inelegantly and in a very uncoachlike way. “Why do you need to be right?” She released a deep breath, a sigh, “Because if I was wrong, my Dad would wipe me out.” And the tears flowed, and the sobs took even my breath away. “I was never sure I was safe. I had to prove myself worthy every night. He would grill me over dinner about my day and the choices I had made. I learned early on that the only way to survive was to be right.” Over the next few weeks, on guard for her need to be right, we carefully went to work changing her approach to the co-founder. For her, the crucible
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