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That's when everything blew up. Confused by the note, Elliott's parents called him, and us. Grandma was alive and well after all. (I'll bet you figured that out way before I did.) Turns out Elliott had won a contest on the radio for a party in the Bahamas that prior Saturday (I assume around 1 a.m., but what do I know?), and he'd used his meemaw as an excuse to get paid time off.

Elliott was busted. Not just regular busted. You-fake-killed-off-your-grandma type of busted.

His parents were furious (I hope). I was furious (for sure). And Elliott? He was out of a job. (Most definitely.)

If he had just come to me and said he won the tickets, I would have accommodated him. I would have said, "A weeklong party on an island, for free? Heck yeah! Go forth! Remember to hydrate." Instead, he defaulted to manipulation to get his way. Which I only later realized was his modus operandi.

The fallout after firing Elliott was tough. I had to explain to the clients he served why he had been let go, and then fix all the problems and inconsistencies he'd created. After four months, we were right back where we started—exhausted and doing all the work. Actually, it was worse. We lost trust with some of our clients. Elliott had left their systems in a lurch, and we didn't even have the @#$%@! passwords. We didn't hire an employee who was all in and now we had a handful of clients who were all gone.

According to Trakstar, "bad hires" cost companies thousands of dollars, but you didn't need anyone to tell you that. You might be surprised to learn that according to a Harris Interactive Poll, 41 percent of business owners said bad hires cost them more than $25,000. I hope that is a surprise to you. And I surely hope you are not thinking, "I wish it was only $25K." Beyond the recruitment and hiring expense, there's the cost of unproductive time, unhappy or lost clients, disruption to others. When an employee doesn't fit, it can undermine morale and the performance of the entire team. And the bossy boss, you, loses sleep as a bonus.

Long after I fired Elliott, I kept frothing about the locked accounts, the fake-dead grandma, all that stuff. I ranted to anyone who would listen to me. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror after a particularly animated diatribe, my face red and spittle at the corners of my mouth, I made a solemn pledge: No more bad hires.

THE EMPLOYEE ENGAGEMENT DARTBOARD

Over time, I learned how to hire more patiently. And I found some good people who really cared. But I still struggled to keep all my employees engaged, and to build a team where everyone cared as much as I did.

Five years later, I sold my interest in Olmec in a private equity deal and went on to cofound a computer forensic investigation business. As I grew as a leader, I knew the essence of a successful company was an extraordinary team. I'm convinced you know the same. But knowing and doing are two different things. And as much as I wanted an unstoppable team packed with rock-star employees, I struggled.

I now consider my second company a Petri dish for team building. It was as if I was tossing darts at a "strategies for employee engagement" dartboard and trying whichever one my mini arrow hit. And when it didn't work as well as I hoped, or not at all, I picked up my darts and gave it another go. I tried paying more money and increasing benefits. I tried shorter workdays and flex time. Longer workdays with shorter workweeks. I tried creating a company culture and set of corporate values. I put motivational quotes on the walls. I tried team-building exercises and employee recognition. I tried rallying my troops around one big goal—and around defeating one common enemy. I even tried bringing in the cheesy foosball table.

Some of the strategies I tried "worked," but they were only temporary solutions. And even when I had one or two superstar employees, the rest of the team seemed disengaged. I wanted an entire team of performers. I wanted a team that cared as much as I did, and I started to believe it wasn't possible. After all, I'm an entrepreneur. I built the business. I am the shareholder. I reap the rewards when we win: the money goes to me, the accolades go to me, the ego is all mine. Who is going to care about the business as much as me?

IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME

We were in the right place at the right time. Our forensics company became an industry authority, but the engine fueling that company—my team—was fragile. We had three rock-star employees and the other folks all seemed to fall a bit short here and there. Just when we started to fracture, we sold the company to Robert Half International. Unlike my last exit, this time I would stay on with the company for a year. I had no clue what was expected of me or what my role was. Simply that I was to do something.

Now I wasn't the boss. I was the employee.