'The theory that perfectly explains why I always thought my colleague hated me.'

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I once had a coworker who, for lack of a better term, absolutely hated my guts.

Yes, that sounds dramatic, but it's not so funny when you're lying awake until 3am thinking about strategies on how to make them like you.

This person seemed to only hate me when I… spoke. I'd suggest an idea, and they'd look at me as if I'd stolen their firstborn child. They'd talk over me, ignore my messages, and generally treat me like crap.

I spent months spiralling, wondering if it was my look, my personality, or just my pure existence.

Watch: The most 'fraught' friendship behaviour. Post continues below.

Turns out, it was none of those things. It was because I was a massive know-it-all.

I was recently introduced to a concept from Rob Long at The Ankler that has in all honestly put the blame… on me. It's the social politics of being right. Or, more specifically, the art of keeping your mouth shut when someone else is wrong.

Long tells a story about his early days as a writer on Cheers. He was one of the youngest people in the room, the one whose job was to stay quiet, learn and observe. But when the senior writers were plotting a storyline about a hostile takeover and a potential arrest, he couldn't help himself. He interjected to tell a room full of industry experts that, technically, what they were describing wasn't a crime.

The room went silent. They started at him with a look that said: "Why are you talking?"

Rob says that although he was right, he was also incredibly annoying.

Immediately, I related.

Thinking back, my "mean" colleague had a habit of being factually… flawed. They'd get dates wrong, didn't really know how to use technology and would attribute a campaign success to the wrong person. And because I was a foolish 20-something-year-old, I would correct them. Every. Single. Time.

I thought I was being helpful. I thought it made me sound smart. In reality, I was just being my workplace's unpaid fact-checker that nobody asked for (or wanted).

Long also shares a story about being in a restaurant in New York after the marathon. A waitress excitedly pointed out the "winner" of the race sitting at a nearby table, wearing his medal. Long knew, for a fact, that the man hadn't won. He knew the actual winner was an Ethiopian man who looked nothing like this guy.

But instead of ruining her shift with a "well, actually," he stayed silent. He didn't want to embarrass her and take away from her joy.

It made me think about the hierarchy of the workplace. In the podcast Antler, the hosts discussed how being right is often tied to power. When you're the junior person, correcting a senior staffer isn't just about being accurate. It sends another message. It's a challenge.

I grew up in a household where you never corrected someone older than you in public. You wait until you're in private to say, "Hey, just so you know, that thing you said? Totally wrong." Even then, it's largely frowned upon.

But when you're in the middle of a brainstorm, that filter disappears. We live in a culture where "owning" people in the comments section is a sport. We have the world's information in our pockets, and the temptation to fact-check someone in real-time is like a fetish.

I've realised that my colleague didn't hate me because of who I was (I mean she probably did). She hated how I made her feel. Every time I corrected her in front of her boss and colleagues, I was essentially saying, "Hey, everyone! Look how much smarter I am than this person you're paying more than me!"

Defs not a great team building exercise.

There are only a few places where being right is the most important thing. Trivia night? Absolutely. Court of law? Sure. If you're a pilot and your co-pilot is about to press the wrong button? I beg that you correct them.

Listen to the author of this article talk about the 'being not right' theory on the Mamamia Out Loud podcast. Post continues below.

Unless the mistake is going to cost the company millions or result in someone accidentally getting food poisoning, I've had to learn to let it slide.

I'm not saying you should let people lie to your face, but maybe consider the "Let Them" approach. Let them be wrong about the date of the Christmas party. Let them mispronounce "canapés." Let them tell that story you've heard six times already.

I'd rather be the person my colleagues want to grab a drink with than the person who pointed out that the bottle of champagne someone ordered to the table is in fact a sparkling wine.

If you want more from Emily Vernem, you can follow her on Instagram @emilyvernem.