I’ve learned something important about self-confidence. Sometimes what feels like competence is just projection. And projecting a false reality, especially when under pressure, is dangerous. As business owners and CEOs, we build confidence over years of repetition. We develop instincts. We create patterns that work. We get predictable outcomes. And over time, something subtle happens. We begin to believe the outcomes are because of us — not the conditions around us. And when life destabilizes us—chaos or a loss in our personal life, business downturn, market disruption—we don’t always slow down. We tend to speed up and hope to move quickly past our instability. When faced with adversity, we tend to make hasty decisions and sometimes convince ourselves that motion equals progress. It often doesn’t. That motion may actually be busyness masquerading as forward movement. I have learned this lesson the hard way. Let me illustrate by sharing a story. What follows actually happened. I later performed it in The Moth storytelling format — I’ll share that link at the end. I remember when I was living in Connecticut, it was the first winter day above 40 degrees. The sky was overcast. The air was damp and chilly, but it had an early springtime feel to it. So why not take my newly adopted pup Nina – an affectionate chocolate lab whose Petfinder profile said she was a ‘water dog’ -- out to the local pond for a swim. Before giving you the outcome, I should mention this was at a critical juncture in my life. I had just finalized a messy divorce and recently lost O’Malley, an amazing golden lab who had proven to be my best friend over the years. I was impatient to get my old life back. O’Malley was incredibly obedient, predictable, and always under my control. I assumed it was because I understood dogs. I considered myself something of a dog whisperer. Little did I know on that late winter day that my impatience (and hubris) almost cost me my life and Nina was going to take center stage in this saga. After a mile-plus hike through the slushy Connecticut woods, Nina and I arrived at the local pond anxious to hit the water. But I realized I had left what I will call the ‘retrieval device’—aka a tennis ball—in the back seat of my car. I shuddered at the thought of wasting another hour to hike to the car and back simply to get a tennis ball. At this time of my life, patience was not one of my virtues. So, I decided to let Nina off leash and she went straight for the water, splashing with pure joy. It was fun for me to share this special moment with Nina. But that special moment became 30 more consecutive moments. “NINA! NINA COME! NINA GET OVER HERE!” I screamed. But no matter how loudly I yelled, she wouldn’t come. That’s when a water snake swam past Nina’s snout. Naturally, she gave chase, and the next thing I knew, she was swimming 150 yards offshore. Those anxious seconds turned into minutes. As more time passed, it became clear she wasn’t going to listen to me. I thought to myself, “what the heck is wrong with her!!!” Fast forward 40 minutes later, and she’s still in the frigid water, but now swimming in tight circles. I thought to myself: “My newly adopted dog is not going to die today because of my own incompetence!” So, I scanned the pond for a way to get closer to where Nina was swimming. I spotted a path to the right that was protected by tall grasses, swaying in the breeze and yellowed by the dead of winter. I sprinted to that spot and in the magnitude of the moment, I stripped down to my boxer shorts. Barefoot and shivering in the cold damp air not even thinking about how ridiculous I must have looked, I went in to save her. The water was freezing cold. My chest contracted and pressed inwards. The water smelled like sewage and my toes slipped through the slimy mud at the bottom of the pond. But I kept churning through the muck toward Nina. When I got to within six inches of her, she turned and bolted for shore without giving me a second look. Nina wasn’t in danger. This was just a game for her! So, I trudged back to shore and took off in pursuit of Nina, running barefoot across a field of thornbushes that I barely felt because my feet were so numb. Just as I was about to catch up to Nina, she jumped back into the frigid water. Awkwardly, I followed. Just then, I spotted a family walking by on a nearby trail. Seeing me in distress, the father whistled for Nina and she came right to him. He whistled. Why didn’t I think to whistle! I lugged my pasty white body out of the pond to retrieve Nina. I was embarrassed and full of guilt but also relieved to have her back. We all were speechless and I managed to whisper a gracious “thank you” to the family. On the car ride home, I looked over at Nina sitting upright in the passenger seat. She was soaking wet and smiling ear to ear. I had gone into the frigid pond to rescue my drowning dog. But what was actually drowning that afternoon wasn’t Nina. It was the illusion that I was in control. My Reflection Looking back, I wasn’t trying to rescue my dog. I was trying to rescue my sense of control. I had projected my history with O’Malley onto Nina. I skipped preparation because it felt inefficient. I confused speed with focus. And I paid for it. That afternoon at the pond became a metaphor for leadership. When we rush to regain stability… When we assume past wins transfer automatically… When we ignore small disciplines because they feel inconvenient… We don’t just risk embarrassment. We risk losing control of the very thing we’re trying to protect. And often, what’s actually drowning isn’t the business. It’s our illusion that we’re still in control of it. If you would like to see my performance of this story, click the following link and find my five-minute story at the 8:55 time marker: https://www.youtube.com/live/5-wdeIkmGQw?si=0_J7qgbwG_RIOhKy

As private equity reshapes the accounting landscape and traditional partnership models strain under talent shortages and succession challenges, strong governance has become the real differentiator. By replacing ad hoc decision-making with clear roles, accountability, performance metrics and disciplined planning, firms can turn chaos into clarity and intention into execution. Read more in Dan McMahon's latest article published in TXCPA here: Governance is Your Growth Engine: Build Value and Outrun Private Equity