The 5% Illusion: Transforming How We See and Are Seen
- johnvcarnes
- Dec 1, 2024
- 5 min read
My father died two weeks ago today, and I discovered that 95% of what I believed about him was wrong.

This isn't a metaphor or an exaggeration. It's a mathematical reality that took me decades to understand. Adopted at birth, my early years were a tapestry of transitions - my parents' divorce when I was three, living with my mother, and then my choice to live with my father for three pivotal years between ages 10 and 13. Those three years - a mere 4-7% of our shared existence - became the lens through which I viewed him for the next four decades.
Here's the kicker: these weren't just any three years - they were middle school years. (If anyone tells you they loved middle school and had an awesome time, I've got a bridge to sell you.) Add to that typical middle school chaos my move from South Carolina to Mill Valley, California, where even teachers mocked my Southern accent, and you can imagine the emotional turbulence. These were years when most of us are already walking bundles of anxiety, insecurity, and hormonal chaos - now layer on being the new kid whose very way of speaking made him stand out. Imagine forming your entire impression of someone during what was arguably life's most challenging and vulnerable phase.
During those years, I saw my father as aloof and unhappy-ironically that was how I saw myself and I was simply projecting. Once that impression formed, something interesting happened: I began noticing every instance that confirmed this view while unconsciously filtering out evidence to the contrary. A single grumpy comment would reinforce my narrative, while dozens of smile-filled moments would slip past unregistered. Spoiler Alert: this is a human trait and something we all tend to do; think of it this way, “what we choose to see as our “reality” tends to expand. A more fun and lighthearted example of this fact is when we start to see the car we are considering buying, suddenly appear everywhere-color and all!
This pattern of selective perception doesn't just shape our personal relationships - it defines our professional lives too.
The Professional Parallel
Fifteen years into my sales career, a frustrated manager delivered a truth bomb that shook my world: "That's great that they like you, John, but that doesn't mean they're going to buy from you."
I was the relationship guy. The one who could walk into any room and make instant connections. My market share was solid - >80% - and I thought that was enough. But like my perception of my father, I was operating on incomplete information, seeing only what supported my existing belief: that relationships alone were enough for success.
It took a coach to help me see that while relationships might secure the first 50% and then 80% of market share, reaching and maintaining 95% required something more. Just as my view of my father was based on a small window of time, my understanding of professional success was built on a limited perspective.
The Data Trap
In every major company I worked for - from Medtronic to St. Jude Medical - we had access to incredible data. Market share estimates, usage patterns, competitive analysis. We could see that a surgeon chose our product 30 times versus a competitor's 10, but the numbers couldn't tell us why. Statistics can show patterns, but they can't reveal the human story behind the choices.
This mirrors how I had all the "data" about my father - years of interactions, conversations, events - but my interpretation was filtered through that narrow middle school lens. Having information isn't the same as having understanding.
The Transformation
Working with my coach, I began to shift from being just the friendly face to becoming what the "Challenger Sale" methodology calls a teaching expert. This wasn't about becoming less personable; it was about adding substantial value to those relationships.
The parallel to my personal journey is striking. Just as I had to challenge my perceptions of my father by looking beyond my limited window of experience, I had to challenge my professional identity by looking beyond the comfort of being "the likable guy."
The result? A cardiac surgeon shared with me, "I trust you, John, because I know you'll show up with everything needed to make this procedure successful so this patient has a restored life." This wasn't just about being liked anymore - it was about being trusted to deliver value that matters.
The Power of Complete Perception
Understanding how we form and maintain perceptions - and how others form them about us - is crucial for both personal and professional success. Here's what I've learned:
1. Question Your Strongest Beliefs
What percentage of the total picture are you seeing?
Which experiences are you using to form your judgments?
What evidence might you be filtering out?
2. Manage First Impressions Strategically
People will form quick judgments about you
Prepare thoroughly (research, LinkedIn, background)
Show up ready to deliver value, not just make friends
3. Look Beyond the Data
Numbers tell what, relationships reveal why
Combine analytical insights with human understanding
Use emotional intelligence to fill the gaps statistics can't
4. Build Trust Through Value
Move beyond surface-level connections
Consistently deliver expertise and insight
Let results reinforce relationships
The Way Forward
As I look at photographs of my father now - smiling in every single one, from toddlerhood to his final days - I'm struck by life's profound capacity for revelation and healing. Through conversations with my stepmother and others who knew him, I've discovered the father I always longed to see as a child. The man who brought joy, kindness, and love to countless lives. The leader, the friend, the father who existed beyond my limited middle school lens.
This journey of perception-shifting parallels my professional evolution. Just as my stepmother helped fill in the missing pieces about my father, my coach became an objective champion who helped me challenge both my personal limitations and corporate assumptions. When faced with seemingly impossible targets - like achieving 120% market share in medical devices - this objective perspective helped me tell the human story behind the numbers. It's one thing to know how many pacemakers were implanted; it's another to understand the complex reality of patient care that those numbers represent.
There's a bittersweet irony in finding these fuller pictures later in life. Yet these revelations, while tinged with sadness for missed opportunities, have brought unexpected gifts: deep healing personally and breakthrough insights professionally. In both cases, having an objective champion - someone who could challenge our perceptions without judgment - made all the difference.
Whether in boardrooms or living rooms, our greatest limitations often aren't external obstacles but our own fixed perspectives. The cardiac surgeon who trusts me with their patients' lives sees me differently than I once saw myself, just as I now see my father differently than I once did.
Growth comes not from changing reality, but from being willing to see it more completely.
This is my father's final gift to me, and one I'll carry forward in both my personal and professional life: the understanding that it's never too late to shift our perspective and find success - or healing - in a broader truth. Sometimes our most powerful discoveries come not from accumulating more evidence, but from being willing to see the evidence that was there all along through fresh eyes, and having the courage to let objective champions help us challenge our most deeply held assumptions.
About the Author: John Carnes specializes in transforming high-performing professionals into exceptional leaders by challenging perception barriers and developing emotional intelligence. Drawing from his experience achieving record-breaking market share in medical device sales and pioneering perception-based coaching methodologies, John helps leaders see beyond data to uncover the complete story. His unique approach combines hard analytics with the human elements often missing from corporate decision-making.



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