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Most leaders say they want top talent.
So why do so few actually hire it?

In this episode, we explore the uncomfortable psychology behind why many B and C level leaders struggle to bring A-players onto their teams. Not because of budget. Not because of timing. But because hiring exceptional people quietly threatens identity, status, and control.

We break down the hidden mental blind spots that shape hiring decisions, drawing from validated psychological research on ego threat, social comparison, cognitive dissonance, and status preservation. You’ll hear why “culture fit” is often a mask for insecurity, why safe hires feel smart in the moment, and how leadership identity quietly dictates who gets hired and who doesn’t.

If you’ve ever wondered why talented people get passed over, why average teams stay average, or why some leaders seem allergic to being challenged, this conversation will hit close to home.

This episode isn’t comfortable.
But it is clarifying.

And for leaders serious about building exceptional teams, it might change the way you hire forever.

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In business, not all problems wear warning labels—some sneak in wearing smiles, enthusiasm, and the appearance of hustle. I’m talking about the most seductive trap for leaders: highly motivated mediocre talent.

These employees are energetic, loyal, and endlessly willing to “do.” They raise their hands, stay late, and volunteer for projects. On the surface, they seem like a dream. But scratch deeper, and you realize they’re not driving real results—they’re simply creating the mirage of progress.

The danger isn’t in their lack of effort. It’s in their ability to disguise mediocrity with activity. And too many leaders, desperate for visible engagement, fall for the trick. www.johngrubbs.com

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My name isn’t really Mike.
But if you work in the petrochemical industry on the Gulf Coast, you might have seen me. Maybe you’ve passed me in the control room, at the safety meeting, or in the break trailer. Maybe you already know me and don’t even realize it.

I thought this job would be the dream. I went to school, studied hard, listened when people told me that being an operator was one of the best gigs a young man could land. Steady pay, good benefits, respect in the community. For a while, I even bragged about it.

But most days, I sit behind a glowing screen for twelve miserable hours, listening to the same complaints from the same worn-down faces. The shift stretches on, the coffee goes cold, and the only thing keeping anyone awake is the constant hum of machinery. No one talks about teamwork or pride. The conversation is about how little you can do and still get by.