My brother called, asking for a huge favor—help his brilliant but unlucky friend Jake get a job. I was leading a hiring panel at my tech firm, and the timing couldn’t have been better. If Jake got hired, I’d receive a bonus big enough to cover my daughter’s private school deposit. I reviewed Jake’s resume—he was perfect on paper—so I invited him for coaching. After some prep, he seemed ready.

During the final interview, things quickly fell apart. Jake talked nonstop, waving off every attempt to ask questions. Ten minutes in, my boss Aaron finally spoke: “Jake, you really have to shut up and listen.” He told Jake the job was lost—not because of skill, but because of his inability to listen.

I was devastated. Not only had I wasted an opportunity, but I felt embarrassed and heartbroken. Then the next day, I received an unexpected surprise—my bonus had still been deposited. Aaron’s note read, “You did your best. It’s not your fault.” I cried, feeling seen and appreciated.

Later, we hired another candidate—less flashy than Jake, but attentive and thoughtful. She turned out to be a great fit.

Months passed, and I saw Jake again at my brother’s birthday party. He thanked me. That interview had been a wake-up call. He’d taken communication courses, practiced, and finally landed a job at a fintech startup.

Then, with a nervous smile, he asked if he could take me out sometime. I raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to listen.” He grinned, “Deal!”