Your company is a maximization machine—it wants to make the best use of its finite resources—so it is greatly interested in identifying precisely who to invest in, and how.

The problem with this stems from the way your company executes on these good intentions. Why, for example, does it assume that it will net a good return only from certain people? Surely, the cliché that “Our people are our greatest asset” applies to all of the people in the company. As we’ve seen, every human brain retains its ability to learn and grow throughout adulthood. For sure, each brain grows at a different speed and in a different way, but this implies only that each person learns differently, not that—categorically—some people do and some don’t. Therefore, the best course of action for any maximization machine worth its salt would be to figure out where and how each brain can grow the most, rather than zeroing in on only a select few brains and casting aside the others.

Here’s a simple exercise you can do. Reflect on your actions across the last week or month and ask:

1. DID I SUBTLY UNDERMINE A RIVAL? In a bureaucracy, power is zero-sum. When a slot opens up, only one person gets promoted. In the battle to move ahead, it’s tempting to discount the contributions of others, or sow doubts about their integrity or competence.

1. DID I HOLD ON TO POWER WHEN I SHOULD HAVE SHARED IT? In a formal hierarchy, it’s the people who make the big decisions who get paid the big bucks. To justify their superior status, managers must be seen to be making the tough calls. This creates a disincentive to share authority.

1. DID I PAD A BUDGET REQUEST OR EXAGGERATE A BUSINESS CASE? Resource allocation in a bureaucracy is inflexible and conservative. Budgets often get set a year in advance, and anything that looks risky gets down-rated. Given this, it’s tempting to bid for more resources than you need or overstate the merits of your case.

1. DID I FAKE ENTHUSIASM FOR ONE OF MY BOSS’S IDEAS? In a bureaucracy, disagreeing with your boss can be a career-limiting move. Hence, individuals often swallow their reservations rather than risk being seen as disloyal.

5. DID I DISREGARD THE HUMAN COSTS OF A DECISION? If your organization treats people as mere resources, you may be pushed to make decisions that sacrifice trust and relational capital for short-term business gains.

1. DID I PLAY IT SAFE WHEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN BOLD? In a bureaucracy, the penalties for screwing up are often bigger than the penalties for sitting on your hands. Given that, it’s tempting to defend timidity as prudence.

1. DID I FAIL TO CHALLENGE A COUNTERPRODUCTIVE POLICY? It’s easier to whine about a stupid rule than to challenge a senior policy maker. Civil disobedience is never the safest choice, but systems don’t change until people take a stand.

1. DID I DO LESS THAN I COULD TO FOSTER THE GROWTH OF THOSE WHO WORK FOR ME? As we noted earlier, there’s often an assumption that “commodity jobs” are filled with “commodity people.” As a result, it’s easy to overlook opportunities to nurture the growth of employees doing mundane jobs.

1. DID I FAIL TO CREATE TIME AND SPACE FOR INNOVATION, OR MISS AN OPPORTUNITY TO BACK A PROMISING IDEA? There’s not much glory in being an innovation mentor. It takes time and often ends in failure. It’s easier to keep your head down than to champion a new idea, but the result is inertia and incrementalism.

1. DID I FAVOR MY TEAM AT THE EXPENSE OF THE BUSINESS OVERALL? Bureaucracies offer few rewards for sharing scarce resources with other units. Behaving parochially often produces the best personal outcomes, even when it’s suboptimal for the organization at large.

1. DID I UNFAIRLY DEFLECT BLAME OR CLAIM CREDIT? In a bureaucracy, performance assessments are typically focused on individuals rather than teams. The goal is to be Teflon when the shit hits the fan and Velcro when plaudits are being handed out. This behavior distorts reputations and misallocates rewards, but it’s the way to win in an individualistic organization.

1. DID I SACRIFICE MY VALUES FOR EXPEDIENCY? Bureaucracies value results above all else. If you exceed your targets, no one’s likely to ask what shortcuts you took. Over time, the bias for outcomes over ethics desensitizes an organization to the moral consequences of its actions.

The lesson, and perhaps the irony, of Tsedal and Sebastian’s study is that executives who deferred to subordinates moved up the pecking order faster than those who refused to bend to their underlings’ will and wisdom: Leaders were granted more power because they gave it away. Yet deference and “flattening” the hierarchy aren’t always the right moves. The University of Michigan’s Lindy Greer shows that the best leaders are adept at “flexing” the hierarchy.

I was also told that a brand-new CEO shouldn’t be trying to make huge acquisitions. I was “crazy,” as one of our investment bankers put it, because the numbers would never work out and this was an impossible “sale” to the street.

The banker had a point. It’s true that on paper the deal didn’t make obvious sense. But I felt certain that this level of ingenuity was worth more than any of us understood or could calculate at the time. It’s perhaps not the most responsible advice in a book like this to say that leaders should just go out there and trust their gut, because it might be interpreted as endorsing impulsivity over thoughtfulness, gambling rather than careful study. As with everything, the key is awareness, taking it all in and weighing every factor—your own motivations, what the people you trust are saying, what careful study and analysis tell you, and then what analysis can’t tell you. You carefully consider all of these factors, understanding that no two circumstances are alike, and then, if you’re in charge, it still ultimately comes down to instinct. Is this right or isn’t it? Nothing is a sure thing, but you need at the very least to be willing to take big risks. You can’t have big wins without them.

Disruptive technologies, Christensen had observed, often grew out of hobbyist communities. They were developed using “bootlegged resources” in which “off-the-shelf components” were redeployed for something other than their intended purpose. They started out wonky but rapidly improved along attributes of performance that established players ignored.

But even once you had absorbed this lesson, it wasn’t easy to implement. Pursuing niche markets cost profits, making investors question your sanity. This, too, Christensen had foretold: “One of the reasons managers at established firms find it difficult to serve emerging markets is that their investors and customers tell them not to.”

That was the real secret of The Innovator’s Dilemma, which readers often missed. It was not a book about how to succeed; it was a book about how not to fail. Christensen’s book wasn’t a how-to for start-ups but a counterinsurgency manual for senior managers at stagnating firms. Thirteen years in, Huang felt that Nvidia was at risk of becoming such a firm, and it was as much paranoia as optimism that led him to pursue the mad-science market.