The Story You’re Making Up Is Probably Wrong
Why mind-reading fails, common ground backfires, and anger lies to us—just in time for 2026
The Silent Lie We Tell Ourselves
Most human friction begins the same way: with a story we invent in our own head.
They didn’t call back because they don’t respect me.
That email was short because they’re annoyed.
They cut me off because they’re selfish.
We tell ourselves these stories with absolute confidence. We are certain we know what’s going on. And we are almost always wrong—sometimes not just wrong, but nowhere near the ballpark.
As we head into 2026, this feels like a useful reminder. We live in a culture that quietly rewards mind-reading. We praise “emotional intelligence” while confusing it with clairvoyance. We assume that because we’re experienced, seasoned, well-read, or battle-hardened, we must understand why people do what they do.
We don’t.
We guess.
And then we fall in love with our guesses.
That theme showed up unexpectedly—and memorably—while listening to Chris Voss and Jefferson Fisher on stage at the 2025 Genius Network Annual Event.
What unfolded wasn’t a masterclass in clever tactics. It was a demolition job on some very popular ideas.
The Common Ground Trap
Joe Polish opened with what sounded like a softball question: Is finding common ground a good thing?
Jefferson answered first, calmly but precisely. He wasn’t dismissing common ground—but he wasn’t worshipping it either.
“A lot of people try to win the argument,” he said. “I try to end the argument.”
Common ground, he explained, isn’t the goal. Connected understanding is. Sometimes those overlap. Sometimes they don’t. And forcing common ground can actually derail connection instead of creating it.
Then he dropped a line that stuck:
“There’s that phrase about meeting people where they are. But some people? You should be nowhere near where they are.”
In other words: understanding someone does not require joining them in their emotional basement.
Chris nodded—and then told a story that turned the whole idea inside out.
The Airport, the F-Bomb, and Why Empathy Isn’t About You
Chris described being stranded in Los Angeles after a canceled American Airlines flight. Three hundred exhausted, angry passengers. No gate agents. Chaos brewing.
He found himself seventh in line, watching a man absolutely unload on a lone customer-service agent—screaming about his car, his dog, his ruined plans.
Feeling bad for everyone involved, Chris tried what many of us would consider good behavior. He attempted common ground.
He called out to the man: None of us planned on being here. They’ll stick us in a lousy hotel, give us stupid meal vouchers. We’re all in the same boat. It’s not your fault.
In the movies, that’s the moment where the angry guy softens. Shared humanity. Group hug.
In real life?
The man turned around and said, “Go fuck yourself.”
The room laughed—but the lesson cut deeper than the joke.
Chris explained the mistake. Sharing common ground made Chris feel good. But to the other guy, it felt like a hijacking. Like someone saying, “Let me rewrite your experience with my version.”
Empathy isn’t about parallel stories.
It’s about validating their story without inserting yours.
That’s where most mind-reading fails. We assume connection means resemblance. In reality, it means recognition.
When “Common Knowledge” Is Flat-Out Wrong
The conversation then veered into anger—specifically the idea of strategic anger. The business-school darling. The academic justification for yelling, pounding tables, and “showing teeth.”
Chris didn’t hedge.
“There’s an academically rigorous paper on strategic displays of anger,” he said. “And it is dead wrong.”
Why? Because the entire foundation was artificial.
The participants were role-playing, not living with consequences.
The negotiations were one-offs, not relationships.
The time pressure forced outcomes that would never happen in real life.
Anger “worked” only because the game was fake.
Then he offered the line that silenced the room:
“I cannot remember a single interaction in my life where I got angry and later thought, ‘I’m glad I did that.’ Not one.”
Media tells us anger is power.
Movies tell us yelling closes deals.
Even public figures get misread through this lens.
Chris pointed out the irony: people who’ve negotiated privately with Donald Trump—even critics—describe him as charming and easy to deal with. The anger is theater. The work is quiet.
If you give a speech while angry, he said, it’s a speech you’ll regret.
Anger doesn’t clarify.
It corrupts judgment—and then lies about it afterward.
The Quiet Thread That Ties It All Together
The through-line here isn’t negotiation. It’s humility.
We think we know why people behave the way they do.
We think common ground is kindness.
We think anger is leverage.
Most of that is narrative comfort food. Easy stories that let us feel smart, justified, and in control.
Reality is messier—and far less flattering.
As 2026 approaches, the better posture might be this:
Assume your first explanation is wrong.
Assume the real reason lives somewhere you haven’t imagined yet.
Assume connection starts with listening, not aligning.
That doesn’t make you weaker.
It makes you harder to fool—especially by yourself.
🌱Seed Thought: When human interactions go sideways, the story you’re telling yourself is usually fiction. Drop the script. Validate theirs. Keep your anger holstered. Clarity lives on the other side of humility.
