Creating Who Others Are For You

Are You Seeing People as They Are—or as You’ve Decided They Are?

We all create stories about the people around us.

They’re difficult. They’re brilliant. They’re unreliable. They’re not ready. They always react that way. They’ll never change.

The problem is that once we create a story about someone, we start interacting with the story instead of the person.

In this conversation, Ron and Michelle explore what happens when we take responsibility for who we are creating others to be—and how changing our own way of being can change a relationship.

When Someone Changes but Your Story Doesn't

Michelle shares a story about her daughter. As a teenager, her daughter was sarcastic and “snarky,” and Michelle turned that into a running Christmas tradition by giving her sarcastic T-shirts.

Years later, Michelle realized something: her daughter wasn't that teenager anymore.

She had grown. But Michelle was still carrying an old story about who she was.

That realization raises an important question for leaders:

How often are we responding to who someone used to be—or who we've decided they are—rather than noticing who they are today?

People change. Roles change. Relationships change. But the stories we carry about people can remain remarkably fixed.

The Stories Leaders Create About Their People

Ron reflects on times in his own career when he created stories about colleagues: they're mean, they're jealous, they're difficult.

Those stories didn't stay inside his head.

They influenced how he spoke, listened, reacted, and behaved around those people. And the other person could sense it.

That's one of the dangers of the stories leaders create about employees. Once you've decided someone is difficult, incapable, resistant, or "not leadership material," you may begin treating them accordingly—often without realizing it.

Then something even more consequential can happen: their response to how you're treating them becomes further evidence that your original story was right.

What Happens When Two People Decide Who the Other Person Is?

Ron tells the story of his relationship with a colleague named Reid.

The two had developed an antagonistic relationship, making snide remarks and essentially creating each other as people they didn't like.

But eventually, something changed.

Ron began by changing the story he was creating about himself. Instead of approaching Reid prepared for conflict, he created himself as someone who was open to Reid. Then he did something harder: he reached out and became vulnerable.

The relationship changed.

They discovered they had far more in common than either had assumed, and eventually became close friends.

It raises a provocative question:

How many difficult relationships stay difficult because both people keep showing up prepared to meet the person they've already decided the other one is?

Your Story Shows Up Before Your Words Do

The stories we carry about people don't remain private.

They show up in our body language. Our tone. What we ask. What we don't ask. How quickly we interrupt. Whether we listen with curiosity or wait for evidence that confirms what we already believe.

People notice.

And over time, they may protect themselves, withdraw, become defensive, or even begin behaving in ways that reinforce the story we've created about them.

For leaders, that matters.

If you've decided an employee can't handle more responsibility, are you still giving them meaningful opportunities to demonstrate otherwise?

If you've labeled someone resistant, are you genuinely curious about their concerns?

If you've decided someone is difficult, what happens to the way you enter every conversation with them?

The story may contain real observations. But the observations and the identity we've built around them aren't necessarily the same thing.

Creating a Different Way of Being

Michelle asks Ron how he changes these stories.

Ron describes it as an ongoing practice rather than something he's mastered. Before conversations—including the podcast itself—he intentionally considers who he is creating himself and the other person to be.

One of his practices involves the phrase, “I surrender to…”

For Ron, surrender doesn't mean giving up or accepting whatever happens.

It means letting go of the need to control the interaction long enough to become present to what's actually happening.

Instead of entering a conversation armed with everything you already "know" about the other person, you create space to discover something new.

What Could You Create Instead?

Ron asks what might happen if we intentionally created our way of being—and considered who we were creating others to be—before important interactions.

What if people entered a meeting expecting others to be capable of contributing?

What if employees were created as people whose questions mattered?

What if disagreement wasn't created as resistance?

What if people believed they belonged and could raise concerns without being judged?

Michelle describes what that might create as trust.

Ron offers another word: love—not in a sentimental sense, but as acceptance of another human being without requiring them to conform to the story you've already written about them.

You Don't Have to Pretend Reality Is Different

Changing the story you hold about someone doesn't mean ignoring performance problems, lowering expectations, or pretending everything is fine.

A person can be struggling in a role without being a struggling person.

Someone can lack a skill today without being incapable of developing it.

A colleague can behave badly in an interaction without becoming, permanently, a difficult person.

The distinction matters because leaders make very different choices when they're responding to observable circumstances rather than a fixed identity they've assigned to someone.

Sometimes the role really isn't right anymore. Sometimes a relationship needs to end. Sometimes someone needs direct feedback they won't enjoy hearing.

But before making that decision, there's another question worth asking:

Am I seeing what's actually happening—or am I seeing this person through a story I've been carrying for years?

That question alone can change the conversation that follows.

Leadership Is a Practice

Ron doesn't offer a formula for creating others differently. He describes experimentation.

Sometimes he intentionally creates a way of being for an entire group. Sometimes for one individual. Sometimes the practice works beautifully; other times he learns something and tries again.

The point isn't getting it right.

It's noticing that we are constantly creating meaning about the people around us—and recognizing that we have some agency in what we create.

Before your next difficult conversation, ask yourself:

Who have I created this person to be?

Then ask the harder question:

What might become possible if I were willing to meet them again?

🎧 Listen to the full conversation to explore how the stories we create about others shape our relationships, our leadership, and what becomes possible between us.

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