Why Clarity Can Feel Like Cruelty, But Isn’t
Conflict is a big theme of my life lately; not so much of constantly having it, as much as the realization that it’s actually one of the things I’m good at. People avoid hard conversations like the plague. It’s tempting in the short term, but doing so allows you to steep and stew in resentment and bitterness until you may as well have been poisoned by the plague. The other party may not even be aware that there’s an issue, and sometimes, by the time they find out, you’re in season six of a melodrama they weren’t even aware existed. To repair, it’s just that much longer of a road to walk back.
Why do we put off so many hard conversations when the work almost always leads to resolution? Even if not the resolution we’re hoping for, it brings about necessary change or evolution. Why do we let a couple of minutes of discomfort keep us from the release of that deep breath we’ve been holding?
In my day job, I’m often praised for being the fearless leader unafraid of facing the tough stuff. By “tough stuff”, someone is usually referring to my willingness to hold my team accountable. I do believe that accountability and consistency are at the core of any successful, performing team, but I’ve also just been through enough hard conversations to understand that the pot of gold is always on the other side.
I recently faced a situation with an employee that put me at a crossroads. It’s almost wrong to even call it a “situation” when the truth is it was a series of little things that led up to a big thing that I could decide to address or not address. I perhaps let it get a little out of hand. I perhaps let it go further than I should have, or even normally would have, but the truth is this particular employee I found to be so taxing of my energy and at such length, I waited until I was uncomfortable and it was on my nerves before doing something about it. In any case, that day did arrive.
It was our regularly scheduled monthly one on one, which made it convenient to invite this person into an unsuspecting conversation. Unbeknownst to them, I had been keeping a list all month of all of those little things that I had been addressing in the moment that were going ignored, and all the little things I didn’t address in the moment and let pile up to see how far things would be taken. I started the meeting. Tell me how you think things are going?
“Fine. I mean things are a little slow this month, but otherwise I’m feeling okay.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, honestly. Can you help me understand then, why, to me it feels like since this time last month when we talked it feels like things have taken a nosedive off a cliff?”
Well, it’s my fault because I’m a bad trainer. Actually, it’s another of my associate’s fault because she’s annoying to work with. You know what? It’s God’s fault. He controls the universe!
Anyone’s fault but theirs. Then tears.
Confrontation is uncomfortable. It forces you to discuss the issues you’d rather ignore, and dissolves the vaguely lighter discomfort of failing at trying to pretend there isn’t an issue at all. Confrontation puts us at the center of things, the heart of the matter, the rot in the roots.
This person had recently been promoted, begging to be acknowledged as ready, doing somersaults to make me believe, despite my better judgement, that they were worthy of a chance to move forward. It took less than 90 days for those “new role” commitments to be forgotten. Why? Well, you heard the excuses.
As the conversation went on, I came to the inevitable conclusion that re-evaluation of the role was in serious order. It can be my decision, or your decision. If you let it be mine, this is fair warning the heat will turn up fast for you to recover. There are limits to your behavior and you’re at them. To avoid any kneejerk reactions, I won’t accept an answer today. I do, however, need a commitment that you’ll let me know by Friday what you’re thinking.
Ending the conversation, I couldn’t help but point something out, especially to an aspiring leader: “Look at how upset you are! The really concerning part is that if I hadn’t brought this up today, you’d have just let this go on indefinitely.” A head hung low in defeated acknowledgement.
For weeks, I’ve wondered what might have happened differently if I had said something much sooner, but deep down I know this was simply a matter of time. This person’s energy had been oppressive from day one, and besides, by Friday they let me know they were giving their two weeks notice, as they had been offered another position. Surprise! They had been looking to leave anyway. Who would have guessed that the discomfort of the environment would push them to that?
People avoid clarity because it feels unkind. They think ambiguity is the more compassionate choice in the moment. The reality is that leaving vague, unaddressed issues is often the cruelest thing we do. We’re wired to protect people from discomfort, and ourselves from conflict. No one wants to be exposed. Directness gets coded as cold, harsh, or aggressiveness (which is especially true for women and people of color in leadership). We confuse tone with truth. If it stings, we assume we said it wrong. The emotional labor of telling a hard truth is real; it costs something, so we avoid it.
We do people other disservices in numerous ways. The “compliment sandwich” buries the real message, we give vague feedback that leaves people spending more energy guessing (e.g. just be more proactive!), we offer passive aggressive hints and sighs hoping that they’ll eventually figure it out, and sometimes we withdraw without addressing anything altogether. People can’t course-correct because they don’t know what actually needs to change. Ambiguity robs people of their agency because they can’t fix what they don’t understand, and the longer we wait, the higher the stakes. A conflict delayed is a crisis delivered.
Have you ever left a conversation with a superior feeling like you were praised for doing a good job, only to be blindsided in your annual review? That’s your manager’s fear being translated to paper instead of voice. This did happen to me once, and it forever changed how I viewed my relationship with my then-boss. A single redirection is much easier to recover from than months of deferred unease.
As a leader, if you want to have the best shot at having your team’s respect, at delivering real results, at being able to experience meaningful development in your role, there’s some inner work that has to be done. You have to get comfortable being (temporarily) disliked. You have to be able to separate your discomfort from your target’s well-being. You have to enter conversations in good faith that people can receive hard news. Everyone hates a bush-beater when they’re in the hot seat. Seriously.
Here’s another core truth (on the house): if the person you’re speaking to CANNOT handle tough news, it doesn’t automatically mean what you said is wrong. Don’t let the fear of disappointment getting attached to the messenger keep you from following through on your responsibility to offer a path to necessary growth. I would argue if they crumble in the meantime, that growth is much-needed anyway.
What happens if you decide not to do this work? Perhaps nothing you’re aware of if you’re so aloof that you believe it holds no consequence. If you truly believe that blanketing everything in soft snow is where everyone’s true best interests lie. What really happens is your team fills in every vacuum of information with their worst fear. It breeds anxiety and disengagement.
Kindness does not mean the absence of discomfort. It’s just care delivered with honesty. So what does clarity actually look like in giving feedback?
- It’s specific, not savage. Exchange “this is bad” with “this report missed the core ask.”
- It’s timely. Give feedback close to the relevant moment, not stored up and unloaded.
- It’s grounded in care. Lead with the why, not just the what.
- It creates room for response. Clarity offers a conversation, not a verdict.
Clarity ≠ bluntness. Bluntness is clarity without relationship. If you’re struggling to determine what might be clarity versus cruelty, run it through this filter:
- Is it true?
- Is it necessary?
- Am I saying this to help or to punish?
- Have I been specific?
- Am I protecting myself from discomfort, or them from confusion?
People may not thank you immediately for being clear, but it pays dividends over time. People will remember who respected them enough to tell them the truth when they gain clarity for themselves.
When did someone’s honesty change your life?