We Need to Be Wrong to Be Right

Early in my career, I sat across from a CIO presenting a high-level value estimate I had built for his organization. I shared the headline number with confidence, and he immediately shook his head. “That’s not right,” he said. For a moment, my confidence dipped.

Instead of shutting down, I opened the spreadsheet on my laptop and walked him through the assumptions and logic I had used to arrive at that number. That changed the conversation. He leaned in, correcting my data assumptions line by line. Together we rebuilt the model in real time.

By the end of the discussion, the value we had co-created was nearly double what I had originally proposed. What started with me being “wrong” turned into one of the most productive and trust-building conversations of my career.

Why We Struggle to Start

Many people hesitate to propose an initial answer because they’re afraid of being wrong. But the reality is, you can’t get to the right answer without first having a starting point. A hypothesis — even an imperfect one — gives others something tangible to react to. Without it, conversations stall in vagueness.

In sales, this hesitation shows up when we wait for the customer to provide every data point before suggesting value, outcomes, or next steps. Customers rarely do this. They want to react, not originate. By providing a logical, well-reasoned starting point, we give them permission to engage.

The Psychology of Correction

Here’s the surprising part: people love to correct us. Psychology research shows that when someone corrects another person, it triggers a subtle feeling of expertise and authority. Correction makes them feel competent.

Far from eroding trust, this dynamic builds it — as long as the initial hypothesis is logical. If our starting point is rooted in data and sound reasoning (even if it’s not perfectly accurate), customers feel comfortable correcting it. They see us as collaborative, not careless.

The process of correction transforms the conversation from adversarial (“you’re wrong”) to collaborative (“let’s get it right together”). And when the customer invests their own expertise into correcting our model, they feel ownership of the result.

Why We Need to Be Wrong to Be Right

Being “wrong” in this sense isn’t about carelessness — it’s about progress. A logical but imperfect assumption invites engagement, while waiting for perfect data often creates silence. By being willing to put something on the table, we give the other person a chance to shape it into the truth.

And when they do, the final answer doesn’t just belong to us — it belongs to them too. That’s the real win.

Practical Exercise: Practice Being “Wrong”

Here’s a way to build the muscle — and feel the discomfort — of starting with an imperfect hypothesis:

1. Pick a real business question – For example: “How much revenue could this product generate in the first year?” or “What’s the value of reducing downtime by 10%?”
2. Write down your best logical guess – Don’t try to be perfect. Use the data you have, make assumptions where needed, and calculate an outcome.
3. Present it to a colleague or peer – Show them your reasoning. Say: “This is my rough take — where do you see flaws in the logic?”
4. Let them correct you – Pay attention to your reaction. Notice the natural defensiveness that arises, and then consciously shift to curiosity.
5. Refine it together – Capture the improved answer and highlight what changed.

The goal isn’t the number — it’s the process of getting comfortable with being “wrong” so you can invite correction, build collaboration, and ultimately reach a better outcome.

Choosing Trust Over Perfection

In sales and in life, waiting for perfect information often means waiting forever. A logical starting point — even if it’s wrong — is better than no starting point at all. By being willing to be “wrong” in the right way, we create space for others to engage, correct, and co-create.

And here’s the deeper truth: trust is the key to persuasion. Customers don’t buy because we’re perfect. They buy because they trust us. Every time we open ourselves to correction and invite collaboration, we’re sending a message: I care more about getting it right for you than about being right myself.

That’s what turns a “wrong” start into the right outcome.