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Remember the character Gordon Gekko in the movie Wall Street? Michael Douglas won an Oscar for his portrayal of this rude, larcenous wheeler-dealer. Well, I worked with a real-life investment banker who in some ways could have inspired the Gekko character.

A significant part of my practice as an executive coach is working with supremely successful people who may need to change some behaviors to achieve the next level of success. The man I coached -- let's call him Mike -- wasn't amoral and unethical like Gekko, but he had some competitive fires burning within his soul that made him treat people like gravel in a driveway. They were the pebbles; he was the SUV. Mike's score for treating direct reports and colleagues with respect was an astounding 0.1%. That is, out of 1,000 managers rated, he was dead last!

But Mike put up equally astounding numbers with his trades. His profit contribution was so vast that the CEO promoted him to the company's management committee. This should have been the apex of Mike's young career. Instead, it exposed his bad side as well. The firm's leaders, who had been insulated from Mike's behavior, were suddenly in a position to get a firsthand dose of his "lead, follow, or get out of my way" style. In meetings, they saw that there was often no checkpoint between Mike's brain and mouth. He was surly and offensive to everyone, even mouthing off to the CEO (his biggest supporter), who called me in to "help him change now."

When I met Mike, the most obvious thing about him was his delight in his success. He was making more than $4 million a year, so professional validation was coursing through his veins like jet fuel. I suspected that breaking through to Mike by challenging his performance would be tough. He was delivering results, and he knew it. So I sat down with him and said, "I can't help you make more money. You're already making a lot. But let's talk about your ego. How do you treat people at home?"

Mike insisted that he was totally different outside the office, that he was a great husband and father. "I don't bring my work home," he assured me. "I'm a warrior on Wall Street but a pussycat at home."

"That's interesting," I said. "Is your wife home right now?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why don't you give her a call and see how different she thinks you are at home than at the office?"

He called his wife. When she finally stopped laughing at her husband's statement, she concurred that Mike was a jerk at home, too. Then he got his two kids on the line, and they agreed with their mother.

"I'm beginning to see a pattern here," I said. "As I told you, I can't help you make more money. But I can get you to confront this question: Do you really want to have a funeral that no one attends other than for business reasons?"

For once, Mike looked stricken. "They're going to fire me if I don't make my numbers, aren't they?" he asked.

"Not only are they going to fire you," I said, "but several people will be dancing in the halls when you go."

Mike thought about that for a minute and then said, "I'm going to change, and the reason I'm going to change has nothing to do with money and it has nothing to do with this firm. I'm going to change because I have two sons, and if they were receiving this same feedback from you in 20 years, I'd be ashamed to be their father."