It was the moment that shattered the glass for me on how I was perceived.
Over a decade ago, at an offsite with our leadership team, I was in conversation with one of our leaders about a product we were offering.
“Why are we putting sugar in our guacamole?” I asked. “If it’s good guacamole it shouldn’t need added sugar.”
(I was on a “no sugar” nutritional approach at the time. I have since moved away from that. Evidence: as I type this, I’ve just finished a red velvet cupcake. Full of real sugar.)
In the pause before the marketing leader responded, the president of the group looked at me and said “Cynthia, you’re very direct.”
I stood there speechless long enough for it to be uncomfortable.
After a few moments my colleague, a fabulous coach, turned to me and said “It seems like you’re surprised by that feedback. How are you feeling about it?”
I don’t remember what I said. I remember how I felt.
I was ashamed.
In the narratives I’d developed about how to exist in the world, I’d picked up the message that being direct was bad. That nothing good would come from saying what you think. I’d learned to equivocate like a master — especially in emails — and obfuscate my true feelings.
The funny thing was, I’d gotten feedback over the years that I could be direct, and it often had an edge to it. 𝙏𝙤𝙤 direct. So I’d learned to dial it back.
Except, apparently, when I felt safe enough to say what I was really thinking.
The glass shattered that day. I realized yes, I 𝙘𝙖𝙣 be direct. I keep my inner monologue to myself more often than not — but there are moments I say exactly what I’m thinking. And in many, many cases, that’s exactly right.
So rather than rejecting “direct,” I decided to own it. I had to rewrite the story I carried about what that word meant. And I needed to do the work to use it as a strength, not a barrier.
Rewriting the story we carry about an adjective — that’s some of the most revealing work in coaching. Leaders I’ve worked with have been described as assertive, reserved, enthusiastic, precise … and even with the ones that sound positive on the surface, nearly every time the leader has a negative story in their head about why they shouldn’t be “that way.”
So we explore how it supports their success and how it gets in the way. We consider whether they want to move away from that behavior — a completely valid choice — or accept it and adapt so it shows up productively. And we craft a new narrative of what it means.
For me, learning to blend directness with empathy was the key. One of the best compliments I’ve ever received: a colleague told me I have a “unique ability to blend candor and compassion.”
For that, I have to thank the leaders I worked with all those years ago.
And their sugar-filled guacamole.
Looking to increase the cohesion, trust, and impact of your leadership team? Reach out and let’s discuss The Compass Team Experience and how I can help.
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