I previously explored some parts of this blog post in a post and discussion on Facebook. That thread served as a starting point for the themes I’m continuing to wrestle with in this post. Still evolving, still looking for input.
We couch our communication in conditional language, softening our words and ourselves in the process. It’s a soul-squashing practice. That’s the warning career coach Tara Sophia Mohr offers in a recent listicle, 10 Things Not to Say at Work. Most articles in the format hide tired and superficial advice under come-hither linkbait headlines, but Neha Gandhi’s piece does the opposite. Don’t let the title turn you off; this isn’t a puff piece detailing the dangers of sharing your weekend plans.
Every time you want to “just check in,” “just review,” or “just ask about” something important, you diminish its importance—and yours, cautions Mohr. We add those modifiers so we don’t come on too strong, she explains, but then may sound “defensive, a little whiny, and tentative.” She draws similar conclusions for phrases like “kind of” and qualifiers like “I’m no expert, but…”
Conditional phrasing can bloat our sentences and our thinking. But while I agree it has an impact on how others perceive us, I don’t know that it’s always a negative impact.
“‘Does that make sense'” can be useful if you’re looking to solicit feedback and input from reticent coworkers,” comments content strategist Chris Moritz. Though, he notes, it’s “Better used by managers and above.” Rise to a position of credibility before you risk chipping away at it, or consider the source and audience?
Early in my career, in both personal and professional contexts, people encouraged me to “soften” the directness of my tone. I started punctuating emails with smiley faces. I introduced more rhetorical questions into my speech—but they weren’t so rhetorical. As I ended declarative sentences with “right?” I started to wonder it myself. I hated it. Those smiley faces were fake.
Experience strategist Megan Grocki describes coming back from this point. “I’m working on ‘owning it’ more in my communication style,” she writes. Remove those modifiers and you risk spotlighting their author. Increase risk and you increase reward, or at least underscore courage in your convictions.
While I think my colleagues’ advice stemmed from their own insecurities, I do think they taught me a key skill: messaging can be clear but also demands cultural awareness—especially if you’re talking to people who are more comfortable beating around the bush in their own communication. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but cultural sensitivity is the heart of action. And now I try to surround myself with colleagues who don’t shrink at the sound of their own ideas.
When the words we choose affect how others perceive our ideas and us—and how we perceive our ideas and ourselves—is it worthwhile to smother and smooth them over? Do we smooth and blunt their corners and risk losing too much for meager gain? Or is the opportunity to engage others in their own culture of communication worth hiding the sharp points in our words, our thinking, and ourselves?
Interesting perspective. I recently read Lean In, by Sheryl Sandberg, in which she explores the same issue (softening your impact) but arrives at nearly the opposite conclusion. She recommends that people recognize the difficulties they face, and alter their speech accordingly.
For example, she notes that strong women are seen as “pushy” or “brass” and so she recommends that women coach their strong ideas in the very terms that Tara Sophia Mohr says take away our power! I don’t know which of them is “right” (perhaps they both are) but I would love to be a fly on the wall of that usability test.
And therein lies the challenge: how do you soften your words without softening your impact? I need to reread that part of Sandberg.
A few years ago I made a conscious effort to remove the word “just” from my vocabulary, because I couldn’t find any places that I used it as anything other than a diminishing modifier. So many of my communications are written, it was easy to spot and remove it before hitting ‘send’, and the awareness bled into my speech as well.
I learned two related things:
1) “just” and its ilk are often part of lazy sentence constructions. Removing them forced me to be clearer with my intentions and messages.
2) There are times when I need to be soft, not because my opinions are too strong, but because what I’m saying is legitimately hard to understand, or I’m writing something politically or personally fraught. Eliminating lazy phrasing helped me be more effective with those kinds of communications. Not ‘soft’ in a way that reduced my self, but in a way that encompassed my sense of empathy.
Not ‘soft’ in a way that reduced my self, but in a way that encompassed my sense of empathy. I love that. It’s the difference between communication, when we commune and come together, and dictation. We bridge that rhetorical divide not to force our sense of self but to forge a new space that combines the needs of both parties.
As a nice Texas girl, this is something I definitely need to work on (although my family might (actually, would) say that I’m plenty direct already 😉 I think the context is very important: Who are you talking to? What is their role and communication style? What kind of day are they having? Maybe it’s a matter of direct diplomacy…or diplomatic directness. Like I said, I’ve got work to do here!
Thanks, Carmen. “Diplomatic directness” makes a lot of sense to me, though I get that maybe it has different meanings in Texas and elsewhere!
Very interesting. I’ve found clients respond very well to direct, assertive statements — and those “does that make sense” qualifiers sound hesitant and weaken your case. Internally, among team members, I’ve found those same qualifiers can be seen as pedantic, *especially* when asked by managers.
Some great thoughts here. Thanks!
So glad you wrote about this! This is an ongoing struggle for me, trying to find the assertive balance — not so aggressive but still direct, not so soft but still empathetic. I want to improve my communication style in order to “forge a new space,” as you say — not to pacify people or fit better into societal expectations, which is where softening advice usually comes from. I’m frustrated, at this point, by years of managerial feedback to smile more, talk less, and turn down my volume (which feels personal, and more than a little gendered), while also being told to be confident, make eye contact, and share my ideas. It’s hard to strike a balance that feels authentic to myself as well as to the culture of a given circumstance.