The Difference Between Being Right and Getting What You Need
Direct communication doesn't mean saying exactly what you think. It means saying what needs to be said in a way that actually gets you where you need to go.
Recently, a CEO came to me because his "good" communication — clear, honest, direct — had completely backfired.
His company was getting ready to launch a new product. Three weeks before the launch, his team pulled him in to talk strategy. Immediately, it was clear something was wrong. The product team had built something the marketing team couldn't sell.
In a second, he saw all the reasons it wasn't going to work. The team had missed the mark, time was running out, they needed to move. So he told them: I can't sell this. There's no value proposition. This launch is going to fail .
Everything he said was true — and none of it worked.
Instead of solving the problem, the team got defensive and started blaming each other. When he tried to step back in, they couldn't hear him. They were completely shut down, which meant so was any progress.
He felt trapped: either I'm direct and they shut down, or I hold back and let a bad product launch. Or he'd just have to do it himself. None of these felt like the right answer, but he couldn't see another option.
He had the insight. He couldn't turn it into action.
How You Say It Determines What They Hear
I know this pattern intimately — because I've been on both sides of it.
Years ago, when one of my companies was approaching $200 million a year in revenue, my CFO started coming into my office week after week with the same message: we need to cut marketing spend and slow down growth to preserve our cash runway. All I heard was slow growth. I kicked him out every time. For two months.
I wasn't being unreasonable — at least, not consciously. We needed a million customers within two and a half years or the insurance companies were going to eat us alive. Growth wasn't a vanity metric, it was survival. So every time someone walked in and said anything that sounded like slow down, my brain went into full self-protection mode. I couldn't hear anything after those words.
Underneath all of it — and I didn't realize this until much later — I was terrified. I was sure that if I slowed growth, we'd lose the momentum and everything we'd built. None of that was conscious. It was pure survival brain, running underneath every conversation.
My CFO finally went to our executive coach and said he couldn't get through to me. The coach told him something that changed how I think about communication forever: You're saying the wrong words to Christine. All she hears is slow growth, and she shuts down. Say it differently - stop pushing her away.
So he came back in. And this time, he said: I have a way to extend our runway and create longevity in our growth over the next eighteen months.
I leaned in immediately. Tell me more.
He laid out the same plan — reduce marketing spend by fifty percent, reinvest it strategically, increase growth by thirty percent over eighteen months. I told him he didn't even need my permission. Go do it.
And he looked at me and said: I've been trying to get this to you for two months, and you've been kicking me out.
Same information. Same person. Same office. Completely different outcome — because he changed how he said it.
He figured out what I actually cared about — growth, longevity, runway — and led with that. Instead of telling me what we had to lose, he showed me what we had to gain. That's not being dishonest. He didn't change one fact. He changed the frame.
This Is a Skill, Not a Personality Trait
Most of us are taught that "good" communication means "direct" communication. And that "direct" means saying exactly what you think, unfiltered.
I've watched this belief cost leaders — smart, capable, well-intentioned leaders — their ability to actually lead.
It shows up at two extremes.
The first type of leader associates directness with being harsh. So instead of setting clear expectations and giving honest feedback, they soften everything. They pad their language so much it becomes confusing. Or they avoid the conversation entirely and just step in and fix things themselves.
This leader imagines that if they could just walk into a room and say exactly what needed to happen — with force and authority — the team would snap into action. That fantasy keeps them stuck between silence and a daydream.
The second type is exactly who the first one wishes they could be.
They’re honest, clear, forceful — and yet, they also aren't getting what they want. Despite their clarity, the team isn't executing. This leader dreams of finding people who can work at their level, someone who gets it. That fantasy keeps them from asking whether their communication — not their team — might need adjusting.
Both leaders share the same misconception: that directness means saying exactly what you think, exactly how you think it.
It doesn't. Directness means the shortest path between what the company needs and what it gets.
The first leader understands something important — that how you say something matters, that people need to feel safe enough to hear feedback. But they haven't learned how to be both kind and clear.
The second leader understands something important too — that clarity matters, that dancing around problems is a disservice. But they haven't learned to separate their insight from their frustration.
When you stop treating communication as a character trait and start treating it as a skill, you can hold both truths at once: be honest and be heard.
Why It Feels Wrong (And Why It Isn't)
Here's the part that makes leaders uncomfortable. The CEO I was coaching said this exact thing — the reframed language felt dishonest. Like something a politician would do. He had a visceral reaction to anything that felt like he was softening the truth.
I see this constantly. Leaders who pride themselves on honesty feel deeply uncomfortable when asked to change their words. It feels like a compromise.
So I asked him: What specifically isn't honest about it?
And he paused. Because when he actually examined the reframed language, everything he wanted to say was still there. The candor was intact. His point of view was intact. The urgency was intact.
What was missing was the blame.
And here's what I've learned — what we call "being honest" is often just being defensive, wrapped in intellectual honesty. We're not actually trying to solve the problem. We're trying to make sure everyone knows we saw it first, that it wasn't our fault, that we were the ones who got it right.
That's not leadership. That's self-protection.
Here's the thing — you already do this in other parts of your life without thinking twice. You don't talk to your kids the way you talk to your business partner. You don't deliver bad news to your spouse the same way you'd deliver it to a stranger.
That's not being a politician — that's understanding that the person across from you has a different set of fears, motivations, and pressures than you do. Knowing your audience, choosing your words, reading the room — that's influence. It's one of the most important leadership skills there is.
The question isn't "Am I being honest enough?" The question is: is this about me being right — or about finding a solution that moves us forward?
If it's about being right, you'll lead with your frustration. If it's about moving forward, you'll lead with your insight.
Two Questions Before You’re “Direct”
I walked that CEO through a more detailed framework, but really, it comes down to practicing two questions before you say anything important.
What does this person need to hear to actually move forward?
Not: what do I need to say. Not: what's wrong. Not: who messed up.
What does this person need to walk away with so that things actually change?
My CFO needed me to approve a budget reallocation. He didn't need me to understand why our burn rate was too high — I would never have heard that. He needed me to hear that there was a way to grow more. That was the door in. Once I was through it, I could hear everything else.
For the CEO I was coaching, his team didn't need to hear that the product launch was a failure. They already knew something felt off. What they needed was direction — a path forward that felt collaborative rather than punitive.
When he said I can't sell this, they heard: You failed. Everyone got defensive. Nobody moved.
When he reframed it to: All the good work that's been done here would be undermined if we tried to take this to market right now — I want to set you up for success. How do we make sure that happens? — same honesty, same urgency. But now the team heard: He's on our side. And they started solving the problem instead of defending themselves.
Am I leading with my insight — or my frustration?
Every strong reaction you have as a leader contains two things: a feeling and a piece of wisdom. The feeling is real and valid. The wisdom inside it is useful. But when you lead with the feeling, you bury the wisdom.
I can't sell this — that's the frustration talking. The insight underneath was: we don't have alignment on the value proposition, and marketing needs to be part of this conversation before we go to market.
The practice is simple. When you feel a strong reaction — frustration, disappointment, anxiety — name it to yourself first. Then ask: what's the actual insight inside this feeling? Lead with the insight. Set the feeling aside — not because it doesn't matter, but because it isn't going to move the room forward.
The simplest gut check I give leaders to ask themselves: is this about me being right, or about us moving forward?
If it's the first one, pause. That's the entire practice.
What Changes When You Get This Right
When you stop protecting yourself in conversations with your team, something shifts. Leading becomes more natural, calmer - more confident.
The words come easier because you're no longer rehearsing what to say or worrying about how it'll land.
Instead, you're solving problems with people who trust you. And that trust is earned — not because you were the smartest person in the room, but because you were the one who gave people grace while still telling them the truth.
You become the leader people know will give it to them straight without cutting them down.
You become influential.
People see you as someone who's trying to make the company succeed — not someone trying to prove who they were right.
This is the difference between growing your company alone, through brute force, and creating a team that can scale with you.
Reply to share your thoughts — I read every message. See you next week! 👑
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