The Stories We Inherited
“Most of your beliefs were written before you had a chance to edit them.”
Conventional Wisdom—And Where It Comes From
Conventional wisdom is the generally accepted belief, opinion, judgment, or prediction about a particular matter.
Actually, that’s not just conventional wisdom—that’s Merriam-Webster’s definition.
And to be fair, many beliefs become conventional for good reason. Like clichés, they earn their status by being true often enough to stick. For example, consider a few long-held ideas that shape workplace culture:
Annual performance reviews are standard practice.
Long hours signal commitment.
“The way we do things around here” is sacred and unlikely to change.
We’ll come back to these in a moment. But first, let’s zoom in from the organizational to the personal.
Personal Application: Who Wrote Your Story?
Here’s the big idea: Most of our beliefs were written before we had a chance to edit them.
We like to think we’re self-made, but much of what shapes our identity was already baked in—before we were even aware of it.
Sure, we’re all shaped by both nature and nurture. But we often underestimate how deeply nurture imprints us, especially during our formative years. Families teach us how to think, feel, and behave—less through deliberate instruction and more through daily, repeated modeling. We absorb those lessons and carry them into adulthood, often without realizing it.
Culture, community, and early life experiences further shape our belief systems. I grew up in rural Mississippi and small-town Alabama. That specific combination of geography, culture, and authority figures left a lasting imprint on who I became.
And here’s the twist: Some of those “nurturing” influences weren’t nurturing at all. You may have been handed one or more of these messages early on:
“You’re not good enough.” Whether it came from criticism or perfectionism, the result is often self-doubt and anxiety.
“Big boys/girls don’t cry.” Suppressing emotions can lead to long-term struggles with emotional regulation.
“Your worth depends on your achievements or looks.” External validation becomes a trap, feeding insecurity and burnout.
One heart-breaking example appears in Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz. Maltz, a plastic surgeon, describes a woman who requested extensive cosmetic surgery to “fix” what she saw as flaws. Afterward, when the bandages were removed, she looked in the mirror and said, “I still look the same.”
Maltz pointed out the clear physical changes. But she replied, “I’m still ugly.”
The surgery didn’t fail—her belief system did. She couldn’t see what had changed because the image she carried inside was untouched.
That’s the power of inherited stories. Until we question them, they shape what we believe we are—and what we believe we’re worth.
Leadership Application: The Stories We Tell at Work
Inherited beliefs don’t stop at the individual level. They show up in the workplace too—quietly shaping how teams operate and how leaders lead.
We adopt conventional wisdom without questioning it, because “that’s how it’s always been.” But let’s interrogate a few examples:
Annual performance reviews: Are they helpful? Sometimes. But “we’ve always done it that way” is a weak defense. Many organizations now favor continuous feedback and coaching-based approaches. Why? Because they work better.
Long hours = commitment: Maybe. But if one employee works 40 hours and another works 60 to accomplish the same outcome, is the latter more committed—or just less efficient?
“Proven practices” as gospel: In a world where innovation moves fast, yesterday’s best practice can become today’s liability. Sticking with outdated systems simply because they’re familiar puts organizations at risk.
As leaders, we must examine our inherited assumptions. Are we leading based on what actually works—or based on stories we were handed years ago? What if those stories no longer serve us? What if they never did?
Better questions lead to better leadership.
Reflection Points for Leaders
What assumptions have I accepted without question?
Where am I clinging to outdated definitions of success?
Have I confused tradition with effectiveness?
