Imagine that you're a hotshot lawyer, architect or engineer. You're one of the best ever in your field. You get plenty of accolades, win plenty of awards and with you leading the way, your firm was named the best in the world one year.
You've got a good friend who's in the same business. He's excellent, even better than you in most people's eyes. But you're not sure; you'd certainly argue that you're just as good as he is, and hey, he has never led his firm to the No. 1 ranking in the world.
One year, you and your pal, looking to become the best firm ever, decide to join forces, so he comes to work for your company. The company you made famous. The company you've been the king of your entire career. The company where your picture and plaques are on the lobby wall near the entrance. When newspapers and magazines write glowing articles about your firm, it's you they quote. You've represented the firm on all of the television networks. And of course, you expect that to continue, especially when you and your buddy take the firm to even greater heights.
Within two years, you and your pal reach your goal, leading your firm to the world's top spot. But your pal is getting all of the credit. He has outshined you with a performance for the ages. It's no longer viewed as your firm; it's his firm now. Sure, your picture is still on the main wall, but they've put an even bigger picture of him next to it. He's being praised by all of the newspapers, magazines and networks. Your TV appearances dwindle as his skyrocket. Your partners rave about how he may be the best ever. You're still great, but even you know that he's better. Once Batman, you're now Robin, the sidekick, the second banana.
How would you handle that?