I almost set fire to a corporate offsite.

Let me tell you about the time I nearly committed arson in a hotel in Newquay.

Not on purpose, obviously.

But it turns out that the line between "immersive facilitation experience" and "insurance claim" is much thinner than I thought.

It all started when I was hired to facilitate a team offsite for a climate tech startup.

They'd come to us two weeks before it was happening - classic case of founders saying "nah, we can facilitate it ourselves" before quietly realising it was going to be as dry as a Ryvita on a summer hike when you've run out of water.

All of this is to say that we had no input on the venue.

So, lo and behold, we'd landed ourselves in a Hilton-style conference hall better suited to a right-wing politician's wake than a buzzy startup retreat.

But we move.

The morning session went brilliantly. We'd transformed the room into a garden (use your imagination, please). We placed "garden plots" at each table with retrospective questions. What's bloomed this year? What weeds have gotten in the way? You get the idea.

It worked. People opened up. Energy shifted.

For the afternoon, we wanted more connection and warmth, and less fluorescent-lights-burning-your-retinas conference energy.

We landed on the idea of hosting campfire conversations.

The vision: turn each table into a campfire. Cardboard fire centrepieces (we found these gorgeous cutouts online). Dimmed lights. A roaring fire projected on the big screen. Sounds of crackling wood through the speakers.

And to top it all off, tea light candles on every table.

Fifty of them. Real ones.

The day before we were due to set off to Newquay, my co-facilitator and I were walking my cofounder, Alicia, through the plan.

All was going well. Lots of nodding. Good energy. The occasional thumbs up.

Then I whip out the cardboard fire cutouts and fifty tea light candles.

I explain the concept. I'm buzzing. I'm gesturing. I'm painting the scene.

Then I say, "Oh, we'll need to pack some lighters."

Alicia's face immediately changes.

There’s a long pause.

"Does our insurance cover fire risks?"

I stare at her. I have not caught on.

She spells it out: "Do you think it's a good idea to have fifty naked flames next to lots of paper?"

She doesn't wait for a response.

She's already on her phone ordering fifty fake tea lights to arrive at the venue the next day.

And that is why everyone needs an Alicia.

I'll be totally honest with you, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE]. Not once had it crossed my mind that the combination of open flames and cardboard might be a problem.

I was too deep inside the vision. Too excited about the atmosphere. Too busy imagining the crackling sounds and the warm glow to notice the glaringly obvious fire hazard sitting right in front of me.

It's one of my favourite memories of working with Alicia because it captures exactly why we were such a good team. Not because she was the sensible one and I was the chaos. She designed workshops that were every bit as immersive, playful, and committed to the bit as mine. She loved the cardboard campfires.

The difference was that she was far enough back from this particular idea to see what I couldn't. She understood exactly what I was going for, and spotted the one thing that might make it go up in flames (literally).

She was on my creative wavelength and could see my blind spots.

The value of having someone in your corner who genuinely gets you - gets what you're trying to achieve and how your brain works - and can see the thing you're too close to notice.

The people who come to me for coaching aren't lacking intelligence, or talent, or self-awareness. They're usually intimidatingly capable.

But they're often too close to their own story to see it clearly.

So they need their version of Alicia.

Not someone who tells them what to do. Someone who's tuned into their frequency - who gets what they’re building and where they’re headed - and can see the thing they’re too close to notice.

It’s not about fixing you or reining you in. It’s holding up a mirror at a slightly different angle until you go: Oh, I hadn't seen that before.

Sometimes all it takes is one person - a cofounder, a coach, a friend - who's tuned into your wavelength and can say: "This is brilliant. Also, let's not burn the building down."