There was a season in my life where I wanted answers more than I wanted truth.
I was tired. Searching. Trying to find something that would finally unlock the next level for my career, my leadership, and myself.
That’s when the “gurus” came.
They arrived in well-lit Instagram reels. On podcasts with bestselling authors. In $997 “masterminds” with promises of power, peace, and peak performance.
And I believed them.
I believed the smiles, the testimonials, the polished words. I believed the frameworks that looked good on slides but cracked under pressure. I believed because belief felt better than doubt.
But belief, unchecked, ungrounded becomes a trap.
The Charisma Trap
He had perfect hair and a whiteboard full of “million-dollar systems.” A former tech exec, or so he said. Now a performance coach.
The pitch was clean, “You don’t have a strategy problem. You have an identity problem.”
He spoke with certainty. Told stories that made you nod. “This man gets it,” I thought.
His program cost $10K. Weekly calls. Slack groups. Recorded videos titled Weaponize Your Mindset.
At first, it felt good. Motivating. Like movement.
But when I asked for deeper support to apply his model to my market and my ideal customers, he redirected me. “The block is internal,” he said. “Your inner game needs work.”
I started noticing the cracks. The vague advice. The recycled quotes from real operators he had never worked with.
He was great at selling clarity. Not building it. His people would jump in to help.
That’s when I realized: He hadn’t built anything but his own brand.
The Mirror Seller
She was warm. Gentle. Always smiling on Zoom.
She called herself a “life strategist.” I found her through a friend, another founder trying to navigate an empty sales pipe.
She listened well. Affirmed everything I said. Told me I was powerful, brave, and aligned.
Every session felt like a hug.
But nothing changed.
After a month, I brought up a tough leadership challenge: a key executive who was misaligned, draining morale.
She nodded. “What is this situation here to teach you about your own energy?”
I didn’t need mysticism. I needed a strategy. She had none.
Looking back, she never challenged me. Never risked truth.
She sold me a mirror. One that only reflected what I wanted to see.
The Repackager
This one came through LinkedIn. Clean resume. Great references. “Advises Series B founders on scaling culture and execution.”
He spoke in frameworks. Used acronyms. Quoted Drucker and Sinek.
His landing pages and deck looked great.
He offered to help structure my leadership team. Org design, rhythms, escalation paths.
Three weeks in, I saw it.
The work wasn’t his. It was borrowed from public blogs. Cut and pasted from McKinsey PDFs.
Turns out, he’d never led a team past five people.
He was selling vocabulary, not wisdom.
And I had bought it.
The Gut Check
Each of these stories is different. But the feeling they leave behind is the same:
Shame.
Not for being naive. But for not listening to the gut voice that whispered, “This isn’t it.”
The truth is, we want hope. We want shortcuts. And when someone offers both with enough polish and poise, we lean in.
That’s not a flaw. That’s being human.
But hope, without discernment, is dangerous.
And in the business of leadership, where real people, real dollars, and real futures are at stake, false advice doesn’t just waste time. It creates damage.
What I Know Now
1. Polish is not proof. Some of the best leaders I’ve met don’t sell anything. They serve.
2. Depth over performance. A real expert doesn’t need to impress you. They ask better questions. They pause. They’re not afraid to say, “I don’t know.”
3. Look for scars, not scripts. If someone teaches leadership, ask what they’ve led. Not just what they’ve read.
4. Discernment is a practice. I’m not bitter about those seasons. I’m sharper because of them.
Leading Ourselves
If you’re a leader reading this. Especially if you’re tired, uncertain, or hungry for help, then know this:
There’s nothing wrong with seeking support. Just make sure the support you find comes with substance.
Ask what the person has built. Ask what they’ve failed at. Ask what they’ve stood for when things got messy.
The right advisors won’t give you all the answers. They’ll help you ask the right questions.
And maybe, most importantly,
They’ll never let you forget that your best guide has always been closer than you think.
It’s the part of you that dares to slow down, to reflect, to trust your own knowing.
That’s the real growth work.
No certification required.
If you found this useful, start recognizing these cons and “Unfollow” them today!
And remember ~ Always Assume Positive Intent!
Warm regards, and I hope you enjoyed your Sunday.
Adi
Great post, Adi!