Attitude: Three Shifts for Better Outcomes

Can AI have an attitude? Probably not—at least not in the way humans do. AI tools are just that: tools. Still, after writing about my ongoing experiences using ChatGPT, I sometimes catch myself thinking of it as a quasi-sentient coworker. If it were capable of emotion, I imagine it would be frustrated with some of my ham-fisted prompts or rolling its eyes when I ask questions with obvious answers I somehow can’t see.

But for the most part, it’s people—not machines—who carry the burden of attitude. And that burden cuts both ways. Our attitudes can work for us, or they can quietly work against us if we’re not careful.

The good news is that attitude isn’t fixed. We can shift from one posture to another—often a more productive one—if we’re willing to invest the energy and effort required.

Here are three of the most important attitude shifts I’ve made in my own life. And that I’m still working on.

From Dogmatism to Curiosity

This first shift—from dogmatism to curiosity—took me years to recognize and even longer to practice.

For whatever reason, I grew up fairly opinionated. I’m a product of both nature and nurture. I inherited some decent “smarts” from both sides of the family, and academics always came fairly easily to me, though I was a lazy student who didn’t develop good study habits until adulthood. I also grew up in a loving, stable home. We were lower middle class, but we never lacked the essentials, and my parents even found ways to provide most of our wants.

I wouldn’t say I grew up arrogant—that’s probably too harsh—but I was confident. Secure. Self-assured. As I learned and grew, I developed firm ideas about how life and the world worked. And because my world was relatively small, homogeneous, and predictable, I had little reason to question those ideas.

The problem wasn’t what I knew—it was what I didn’t know.

That changed years later when life relocated me from the South, where I had spent my entire life, to the Mid-Atlantic region for work. It was only a few hundred miles, but it rocked my world. I suddenly found myself surrounded by people with vastly different life experiences than my own. And those experiences had led them to reach very different conclusions about the world.

It was eye-opening. I began to realize that many of the things I thought were universal truths were actually opinions—sound opinions, perhaps, based on my experiences, but opinions nonetheless. And here’s the part that really changed me: other people, with very different experiences, could reach different conclusions that were just as sound as mine.

Mind. Blown.

That realization marked the beginning of a long, ongoing process of letting go of my stubborn certainty and replacing it with genuine curiosity. For the first time, I began to see differences dispassionately rather than judgmentally. I started making room in my world for people who held views very different from my own—and extending to them the same benefit of the doubt I had always given myself.

It’s been a game-changer. It’s allowed me to view people with more warmth and kindness, to understand them more deeply, and to connect in ways that have enriched my life immensely.

Application: Embrace curiosity.
Be true to your beliefs—but hold them with humility. Every individual has lived a life you haven’t. Instead of judging others, be curious. Ask about their journey. Seek to understand what shaped their perspective. Curiosity doesn’t require abandoning your beliefs—only holding them with enough humility to learn from someone else.

From Being Good to Getting Better

The same mix of nature and nurture also led me to expect that I would automatically be good at most things I tried. Along with academic ability, I inherited musical and moderate athletic ability. Since those pursuits interested me far more than schoolwork, I grew accustomed to early success.

I joined band in sixth grade and picked up the trumpet. I rarely practiced, relying instead on my ear and the patience of my director. Three years later, I nearly made first chair in my freshman year of high school—held back only by poor sight-reading. I later discovered I could sing well enough in church without much formal training.

I never played organized sports, but I was athletic enough to hold my own in neighborhood games—football, basketball, softball, ping-pong. These days, I scratch that competitive itch through golf, with mixed results and a much stiffer back.

The point is this: my early experiences conditioned me to expect competence without struggle. That expectation held for a long time—until it didn’t.

Near the end of my federal career, that illusion began to crack. In my final role as Senior Advisor to two executives, I struggled badly with one responsibility: helping write their annual appraisal narratives. I didn’t just struggle—I handled the struggle poorly. Frustration showed, and it damaged a reputation that had previously been strong.

Entrepreneurship took this lesson to a whole new level.

When Michelle and I launched M2 Leadership Consulting, I foolishly expected early success. Instead, I discovered that entrepreneurship is hard—and that I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t good. And I’m still not, at least not yet. But I’m learning the value of getting better.

Every failed attempt teaches me something. Every promising connection that doesn’t turn into a paying engagement becomes another stepping stone toward one that does. I’m learning that struggle isn’t failure—it’s often just delayed success, if you keep learning and growing.

Application: Embrace failure and growth.
There’s no shame in not being good at something yet. Failure isn’t the opposite of success—it’s often the path to it. Try things. Fail. Learn. Try again. Each cycle moves you closer to where you want to be.

From Resignation to Expectation

This final shift is rooted squarely in my nature. I’ll start with a confession: I’m a realist. (Michelle would say that’s just a polite word for pessimist, but what does she know?)

I tend to assess situations analytically—looking at facts, trends, and past results before reaching a conclusion. I don’t get emotional about it, at least in my own mind. But if I’m honest, my conclusions are often pessimistic. I’m naturally a glass-half-empty kind of person.

I’m working to change that.

There’s wisdom in resisting naïve optimism and acknowledging real challenges. But it’s also possible to tip too far in the other direction. Life is undeniably difficult—but it’s also full of possibility. And humans are remarkably creative when we choose to look beyond our circumstances.

History proves it. Helen Keller learned to communicate despite being blind and deaf—and went on to become an author and activist. Thomas Edison failed thousands of times before inventing the light bulb. Oprah Winfrey overcame extreme poverty and abuse to become a global icon.

If they could see beyond their circumstances to what might be possible, so can I.

Application: Embrace optimism.
If you’re a natural “realist” like me, make a deliberate effort to see the glass as half full. Even when logic tells you success is unlikely, choosing optimism dramatically increases the odds of finding a way forward. It sparks creativity and builds momentum—sometimes in ways we can’t easily explain. And even if you believe none of that, you lose nothing by trying.

Final Thoughts

Too often in my life, I’ve allowed my attitude to run on autopilot—without asking whether it was helping or hurting the outcomes I wanted. That was a mistake.

Attitude is a choice. I can control it. I can shift it from something harmful to something helpful if I’m intentional about it. You can do the same—and I hope you will.

Having an attitude is human. Cultivating a healthy one is an essential part of HUMAN leadership.