One of the most respected surgeons in orthopedics stood waiting for his own seat. The guy sitting in it had no idea.
Morning arthroplasty conference. I was a fellow. Fellows and residents sat on one side of the room. Consultants on the other. No name tags or visibly assigned seats. You walked in, read the room, and sat where you belonged.
He was interviewing that week. I'd met him at the dinner the night before. Friendly. Social. Shook hands, made conversation, exchanged numbers. Seemed like a nice guy.
Now he was sitting in that seat. People were subtly trying to get him to move. He wasn't picking up on it. The man kept standing there, waiting, pacing.
That was the first sign. Not that he sat in the wrong place, we've all done that. But that he failed to see all the people in the conference room trying to help him.
He wanted to practice where I did. So he kept messaging me. For years. Checking in. Following up. Asking if my group had a need. Not once did he ask how I was doing without a request attached. Every conversation was a transaction.
Then he got an interview with our group.
He looked great on paper. He was charming. But I'd heard from people I trusted that there were concerns. And to some he was remembered for the wrong reasons.
I sat across from him at the interview dinner and asked direct questions. He was very good at telling people what they wanted to hear. His answers never fell apart. But they were vague. No conviction.
I was the youngest in the group. The group was eager to hire. But I didn't think he fit. Not in our practice or the OR. So I pushed back strongly.
I don't know how his career played out. I hope he found the right place somewhere else.
But the messages stopped. Years of texts, gone the moment I was no longer useful.
A great team isn't just who you bring in. Who you keep out can be just as important.
Somebody in your circle only reaches out when they need something. This week, notice what that tells you. And notice who checks on you for no reason at all. Spend your time on the second, and be on that list for someone else.
The good thing is, the awkwardness of standing up for your convictions are usually much shorter than the consequences of going along when it doesn't feel right.
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Good Thing Monday goes out every Monday. One story, one good thing.
Tell me your good thing this week. I read every one.