Am I Solving a Problem… or Trying to Prove I'm Smarter?

One of the greatest lessons I've learned didn't come from a successful place. It came from leaving a toxic one.

Like many people, I've worked in environments where the culture was unhealthy. Communication was poor. Good ideas weren't followed through. Frustration became normal. Eventually, I moved on.

When I went to the next place, I noticed something interesting. As I became more comfortable, I naturally started asking questions.

"Why do we do it this way?"

"What's causing this problem?"

"Is there a better process?"

As I looked for solutions, I realized many of my ideas came from places I had worked before—including the toxic places I had left.

At first that surprised me.

Why would I want to use ideas from a place I couldn't wait to escape?

Because I eventually realized something important.

A bad environment doesn't automatically mean every idea is bad.

Sometimes great ideas fail because they are led poorly.

Sometimes excellent systems collapse because nobody consistently follows them.

Sometimes the foundation is solid, but the culture built on top of it is broken.

That realization changed the way I think.

Instead of asking, "Where did this idea come from?" I started asking, "Was the idea actually good?"

Those are two very different questions.

The challenge is knowing the difference between a good idea that was executed poorly and a bad idea that simply sounds appealing.

I think every leader eventually encounters four possibilities:

The hardest part is figuring out which one you're looking at.

This applies far beyond the workplace.

You see it in organizations.

You see it in families.

You see it in churches.

You even see it in politics.

Often someone will look at an idea that has struggled for years and confidently say,

"The problem wasn't the idea. The problem was the people implementing it."

Sometimes that's absolutely true.

History is full of inventions, businesses, and organizations that succeeded because someone finally executed a good idea well.

But sometimes something else is happening.

Sometimes confidence quietly becomes pride.

Instead of learning from history, we begin believing we're the exception to it.

That's a dangerous place to be.

One of the most helpful questions I've ever asked myself is this:

Am I trying to solve a problem, or am I trying to prove I'm smarter than everyone who came before me?

Those motivations sound similar, but they lead in completely different directions.

Someone trying to solve a problem asks questions.

They listen.

They study what has already been tried.

They borrow ideas without worrying about who gets the credit.

Their focus stays on finding what works.

Someone trying to prove they're smarter usually starts with a different assumption.

"Everyone before me got it wrong."

"I'll finally fix it."

The focus quietly shifts from solving the issue to proving themselves right.

Ironically, that mindset often causes people to ignore the very lessons that could have helped them succeed.

The most effective leaders I've worked with aren't obsessed with having original ideas.

They're obsessed with finding effective ones.

They aren't embarrassed to admit someone else already solved part of the problem.

They build on proven foundations instead of tearing everything down just to leave their own fingerprint.

That's humility.

And humility is one of the greatest competitive advantages a leader can possess.

Mid-Shift Mentality has never been about pretending we have all the answers.

It's about refusing to drift through life without learning.

Learning from success.

Learning from failure.

Learning from our own mistakes.

Learning from someone else's.

Even learning from places we'd never want to go again.

Every experience has something to teach us if we're humble enough to separate the principle from the person and the idea from its execution.

The goal isn't to copy the past.

The goal is to understand it.

Because wisdom isn't believing you're smarter than history.

Wisdom is allowing history to teach you before you repeat it.

So the next time you find yourself facing a problem, pause for just a moment and ask yourself one simple question:

Am I genuinely trying to solve this problem... or am I trying to prove that I could have done it better than everyone else?

The answer to that question may determine whether you become the leader who creates lasting change—or simply the next person to repeat the same mistakes with a different name attached to them.

That's the difference between drifting through your opinions and being driven by wisdom.