A while back, I got a call from Casey out of the blue. I'd met her the year before in New York when I was recruiting for my e-commerce startup. At the time, Casey held a senior level-position at a blue-chip retailer, and was looking for a career change. We didn't have anything for her, but she and I had gotten along well enough, so I was excited to hear from her again.

"My husband got a massive promotion, so we relocated to LA," she told me. "We just bought a house in Malibu. I'm looking to get back to work! Are you hiring?"

I considered what we might have available, given our limited startup budget, for someone used to handsome corporate benefits and a 9–5 lifestyle. "I'm not sure we have any suitable roles," I told her. "It's pure hustle around here. I know what your salary level is… I don't think we can afford you."

"I don't really need the money," she replied. "We're in a good position with my husband's job. I'm just looking for an adventure. Do you have anything I can work on?"

"Why don't we give you a project and see where it goes," I suggested.

So we set her up two days a week on a project that lasted just over a month. And it went…okay. We had the usual corporate-to-startup adjustment friction when an ex-corporate finds the workflows they've internalized don't translate to the realities of a startup. I waited to see whether she'd tap into her creativity and problem-solving skills to bridge the gap, which is what we actually needed at that stage. That didn't happen.

What she did have in spades — big company finesse, political know-how, and spreadsheet templates — just wasn't relevant for us. It turned out that she also expected that after proving herself, the "adventure" would yield a full-time offer paying her at the level she was accustomed to. A level that was 3X what I paid myself as the CEO. In addition to the skill mismatch, the Fortune 500 price tag meant this just wasn't a fit.

We told Casey that, regrettably, we couldn't give her a full-time offer following project completion. We wished her well, and suggested staying in touch in case things changed. All in all, the situation was pretty unremarkable. Our team shared a friendly goodbye and I offered to provide references and make introductions for her. Then, we amicably parted ways. Or so I thought.

A year later, my company closed a revenue-share deal with a brand partner. After we closed the deal, their CEO pulled me aside. "Marina," she said, "just wanted to share something with you. You should know there's someone nutty out there who's not your biggest fan and tried to sabotage this deal." And she handed me a letter she had received from…Casey! Apparently, our former consultant had learned about the pending deal through her network and decided to get involved.

She'd sent the company a letter stating that she didn't like me personally, didn't agree with my choices as a CEO, didn't agree with how I ran the business, didn't like the strategic direction of the company, and so on…but without any actual grievances. She just wanted to make her general displeasure known, seemingly to sour the deal.

At first, it was confusing. Why would someone with no skin in this game make themselves look unhinged and kill our goodwill in one fell swoop, for no apparent reason? As her letter made no real points, there was no impact to be had. It was tantamount to "I'm mad. Signed, me." As a founder of a company, I often deal with disagreement, sometimes even conflict— but an out-of-the-blue strike without a discernible trigger or end game? Huh.

Then it hit me. Is this because we didn't give her a job offer? Is it possible that she really felt so entitled, and was now this offended, a year later, because we didn't recognize the greatness she so clearly saw in herself? We work with dozens of vendors and consultants every year —the gratuitous trashing of a professional relationship over not getting your way is not the norm; especially when you have more to gain from keeping a relationship in good standing.

This discharge of anger never amounted to more than a tantrum. But in finding myself the subject of a feckless attack from a damaged ego, I realized a simple truth. Haters, Karens, douchebags, trolls. They are a fact of life. They need no provocation. They will come for you, whether you've wronged them or not. Your forward motion, and their exclusion from it, is provocation enough.

Sometimes people resent that you've done things they have not. Or that you didn't validate them as they thought they deserved. The act of moving on from a bad situation can trigger a hater who feels left behind. Even wanting your attention can anger the person who feels entitled to it. Or, someone could simply feel excluded from your story. Your business, your love life, your social circle— these are the stories you write. And not everyone makes the cast.

You have already made people unhappy whether you know it or not by simply doing you — striving, creating, and building a life that some people have a role in and others don't.

I've ceded opportunities in the past, given up on goals, and passed on things I wanted to do for fear of rocking the boat. I didn't want to let anyone down.

But this weird encounter was a liberating reminder. Haters are fixtures on the landscape. Hesitating, drawing back, following all the rules — this doesn't keep you safe. If you f-things up, the haters will come. If you do everything right, they'll come all the same.

For me, the lesson was simple: Do the thing. Rock the boat. You might agitate haters, but the truth is they're here either way. The idea that not going for it is "safer" is a myth. There is nowhere to hide, so you may as well live.

(*names and details have been changed for privacy)

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