WHO WILL DISAGREE WITH YOU TO YOUR FACE? What You Do with Disagreement Reveals Your Culture

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

Make a list of the people at work who will disagree with you to your face.

Not the people who raise concerns privately after the meeting. Not the ones who hint that there “may be a few considerations” before wrapping the concern in fourteen layers of diplomatic bubble wrap. I mean the people who look directly at you and say, respectfully and clearly, “I don’t think we should do this”, or “I think you’re wrong”. How many names are on your list?

If several people come immediately to mind, it may mean you are unusually brilliant and surrounded by people who independently reach your exact conclusions every time. Hmmm… possible, I suppose, but it’s more likely that people have learned that agreeing with you is easier, safer, and better for their careers. The absence of disagreement isn’t proof of agreement.

And if you’re struggling to think of anyone, especially if you’re a senior leader, you’re in good company.

To be clear, I’m not advocating for performative candour! It’s not about leader-baiting, or being the one who says, “just to play devil’s advocate…” and then makes everyone wish the devil had retained better counsel.  It is a diagnostic: when dissent appears, the organization shows whether truth is useful, ornamental, or punishable.

FIND THE CULTURE IN THE AFTERMATH

We often talk about whether people feel safe enough to speak up. It’s a worthy question, but it places most of our attention on what happens before someone disagrees.

Are they confident enough? Courageous enough? Credible enough? Skilled enough? Have they overcome their fear of conflict? Can they speak truth to power?

I’m interested in what happens next. What happens in your organization after someone disagrees with power? Does the leader become curious, or begin building a defence? Does the person’s concern receive genuine consideration, or a polite little burial? Are they still invited into the important conversations? Does the leader continue to seek their perspective, or does the person gradually acquire a reputation for being “difficult,” “negative,” “not a team player,” or “not sufficiently strategic”?

That response tells us more about the culture than any values statement, engagement survey, or town-hall declaration about psychological safety can. Culture is not what leaders say about candour. It is what people can safely learn from watching candour land.

Anyone can say, “I welcome healthy debate.” The real test begins when the debate is directed at something they believe, want, proposed, approved, or have already announced with an enthusiastic PowerPoint deck.

THE TWO-BOULDER PROBLEM

Imagine that speaking up requires us to travel down a road toward a person with more authority than we have. On that road, we encounter boulders.

Some of those boulders are inside us. We may be afraid of being wrong, looking foolish, damaging an important relationship, or being seen as confrontational. We may doubt whether we have enough authority or expertise to challenge the prevailing view. Some of us have spent years becoming extraordinarily good at reading subtle signals, adapting to other people, and preserving harmony. Speaking up can feel like deliberately lobbing a grenade into the conversation.

Other boulders have been placed in the road by the organization. We may have watched someone else challenge a decision and pay for it. Perhaps a leader says they want input, but responds to every concern with defensive cross-examination. Maybe the decision has already been made, and the meeting is consultation theatre. Or questions are welcomed right up until they threaten the timeline, budget, the leader’s preferred solution, or their ego.

These internal and external boulders can look remarkably similar from the outside, which is why it’s easy for leaders to misread silence. When someone stays silent, we may assume they need more confidence. When someone hesitates, we may decide they’re conflict-averse. When they finally raise a concern in private, we may coach them to be more courageous next time. Sometimes that is exactly the developmental work they need. And sometimes, what looks like a confidence problem is an accurate reading of the environment.

THE BOULDERS WE CARRY

Researchers James Detert and Amy Edmondson have examined what they call “implicit voice theories”: It’s a useful name for the unspoken beliefs people develop about when and why it’s risky to speak up at work.

These beliefs often become personal rules: Don’t embarrass the boss. Don’t challenge someone in public. Don’t bring up a problem unless you already have the solution. Don’t bypass the chain of command. Don’t speak until you are certain.

Most of us didn’t invent these rules over breakfast. We accumulated them through experience, by noticing which comments caused others to tighten, and by watching what happened when someone challenged a powerful person. We learned when candour was welcomed, when it was just tolerated, and when it came with a cost later.

Eventually, these lessons (which I prefer to think of as limiting beliefs) follow us into environments where the danger is lower. But the internal boulder still blocks the road long after the original organization, leader, or experience that put it there has disappeared.

That’s where courage, self-trust, and communication skills matter. We may need to challenge our assumptions about what will happen if we disagree. We may need to learn how to state a concern without apologizing for having one, becoming combative, or explaining it until everyone has forgotten the point. We may need to tolerate the discomfort of letting another adult have a reaction we can’t control.

We’re responsible for the boulders we carry: our old rules, fears, assumptions, and habits. But we’re not responsible for pretending the external ones aren’t real, especially when the organization helped put them there.

THE BOULDERS CREATED BY POWER

Here’s one study that complicates the usual conversation about psychological safety. In a meta-analysis, researchers Elad Sherf, Michael Parke, and Sofya Isaakyan found that perceived impact was more strongly associated with speaking up, while psychological safety was more strongly associated with remaining silent. In their analysis, perceived impact explained 67 per cent of the predicted variance in employee voice, compared with 28 per cent explained by psychological safety. In plain language, that means people are weighing two different questions: “Is it safe to say this?” and “Will saying it make any difference?”

That second question might even be more important than the first. A person may believe they can raise a concern without being publicly humiliated or fired, but decide to remain silent because experience has taught them that nobody with authority will do anything with it.

Fear isn’t always the driver; sometimes it’s fatigue. How many times should someone point out the same operational risk before stopping? How often should they offer a different perspective when every decision continues exactly as planned? At what point does “Please keep speaking up” begin to sound like “Please continue supplying input we have no intention of using”?

People notice whether their contribution has impact. They also notice whether the person who speaks up remains respected afterward.

SPEAKING UP SHOULD NOT REQUIRE HEROISM

We love stories about courageous people who speak truth to power. They are inspiring for good reason. I once worked with a senior leader who was willing to step into what many people would consider the danger zone. I watched him respectfully challenge executives, hold his ground when his perspective was unpopular, and speak with remarkable candour without making the conversation about his ego. His courage and credibility contributed to him becoming a senior executive and, eventually, the acting CEO.

There’s much to admire in his story. There’s also a question worth asking: If telling the truth requires extraordinary courage, what does that tell us about the power? Courage is a valuable leadership capability. But it’s a terrible organizational workaround.

We should help people build the confidence and skill to disagree. We should also resist romanticizing systems that repeatedly require people to risk their relationships, reputations, or careers to bring forward information the organization needs.

DISAGREEMENT IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY VALUABLE

Of course, the person disagreeing isn’t always right. Some people challenge everything. Some use “I’m just being candid” as diplomatic immunity for their poor behaviour. Others raise vague objections or repeat concerns that have already been addressed. And some confuse not getting their way with not being heard.

Useful disagreement requires responsibility. It names the specific concern and distinguishes evidence from assumption. It helps others understand the risk, consequence, or perspective they may have missed. Whenever possible, it contributes to better thinking rather than tossing a smoke bomb into the conversation and calling it candour.

But leaders have responsibilities too, and their responsibilities carry more weight because their reactions carry more consequences.

A leader does not have to agree with every dissenting view. They do need to demonstrate that disagreement can occur without diminishing the person who provided it.

WATCH WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

The culture-making moment begins after the disagreement lands.

What does the leader’s face do? What happens to their tone? Do they ask a curious question, or immediately explain why the person is wrong? Do they become interested in the information, or preoccupied with the challenge to their authority?

Then watch what happens over the following days and weeks.

Is the person still included? Does the leader continue to seek their advice? Is their concern accurately represented when the decision is discussed elsewhere? If the decision does not change, does anyone explain why? If the concern later proves valid, is that acknowledged without defensiveness or historical renovation?

Everyone else is watching too. People learn whether disagreement is welcome by observing what happens to those who disagree. One person’s experience becomes everyone else’s evidence.

WORK ON BOTH SIDES OF THE ROAD

If we want more honest conversations, we need to work on both kinds of boulders.

Those of us speaking up can ask:

• What am I afraid might happen?

• What evidence supports that fear?

• Is this an old rule I am carrying into a new environment?

• What specifically do I need to say?

• How can I make my concern clear, useful, and proportionate?

• Can I allow the leader to have a reaction without rushing to soften, retract, or overexplain my point?

Those of us holding more power can ask:

• What do people see happen when someone challenges me?

• Do I reward candour only when it is convenient or well packaged?

• Have I confused a lack of disagreement with strong alignment?

• Do people believe their input can affect the outcome?

• What happens to someone’s standing with me after they oppose my view?

• Who has tried to tell me something more than once?

Neither side gets a free pass. Courage without judgment can become recklessness. Authority without curiosity can become a very expensive echo chamber.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE: THE DISAGREEMENT TEST

Set aside 30 minutes when you can reflect without rushing to defend yourself. Think about the last three times someone disagreed with you in front of other people.

For each situation, ask yourself:

1. What happened inside me the moment the disagreement landed?

2. What did my face, voice, and first response communicate to the person and everyone watching?

3. Did I become curious about what they could see, or begin proving what I already believed?

4. What happened to that person’s influence, access, and standing with me afterward?

5. Did my response make the next disagreement more likely, or less?

Now return to the list you made at the beginning of this article. Who disagrees with you to your face?

If the list is shorter than you’d like, resist the temptation to announce at the next team meeting that your door is always open. An open door is only useful when people have reason to believe that walking through it will matter.

Find one person whose perspective you may not have made enough room for. Ask them what they see that you might be missing. Then pay very close attention to what happens inside you when they answer.

The objective isn’t more conflict. It’s making the truth less expensive to tell.

If this article raised a few useful questions about how you lead, how your team tells you the truth, or what happens after disagreement lands, I’d be glad to talk. You can reach out for a free exploratory executive coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

WHAT MUSICIANS CAN TEACH US ABOUT LEADERSHIP: Lessons from the Stage

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I've read hundreds of leadership books. Some were brilliant, some were forgettable, and a surprising number appeared to have been written by people who’ve likely never actually met another human being in the wild.

In fact, some of the most useful leadership advice I've ever encountered came from a conductor, a bass player, a jazz musician, a record producer, and a pop star.

Let’s start with one of the most profound leadership books I’ve ever read. It was co-written by Benjamin Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, and Rosamund Stone Zander, who was trained as a family systems therapist and has coached organizations around the world. I read their book, The Art of Possibility years ago, and it has stayed with me in a way most leadership books haven’t.

That raises a fair question. Why write about a book that is more than two decades old when leaders are already drowning in newer books, newer models, newer acronyms, and newer ways to make a perfectly good meeting sound like a government procurement process?

Because while some ideas age, other ideas deepen. The Zanders’ work has deepened for me because it speaks to something leaders are still wrestling with every day: How do you help people perform at their best when pressure is high, trust is fragile, attention is scattered, and everyone is carrying more than they are saying out loud?

Benjamin Zander has a famous line that has lodged itself permanently in my leadership brain: the conductor does not make a sound. The person standing at the front, a visible focal point for the performance, and getting all the attention and accolades, never plays a single note. In fact, they don’t make a sound. That idea is so simple it almost sneaks past you. A conductor has enormous responsibility and very little direct control, which is a pretty accurate description of senior leadership on most days.

You can't force trust. It doesn’t magically appear because you demand it. Engagement is not something people hand over on command. Creativity, courage, and ownership don't show up because someone in a leadership role says they should, no matter how inspiring your town hall deck may be.

What you can do is create conditions for clarity. You can set the tempo. You can help people hear one another. You can notice when the brass section is overpowering the strings, which is also an excellent metaphor for certain executive teams I've seen in action.

This is where I think musicians have a strange and wonderful advantage as leadership teachers. They spend their lives working with the same forces leaders work with every day: ego, pressure, collaboration, uncertainty, discipline, and the occasional public flop.

They also can't hide behind strategy language when things go sideways. If the music is off, everyone knows it, even if they can't name the particular instrument or musical error. But they feel it.

Victor Wooten, the great bassist and author of another of my favourite books, The Music Lesson, offers a leadership insight I wish we talked about more. He writes about music as a language, something learned through listening, feel, relationship, and practice. Victor talks about how we learn language as babies, as a metaphor for becoming a skilled musician. As babies, we’re not taught the grammatical rules and structure of the English language; we learn to speak English by being immersed in it, observing, experimenting, and trying new moves.

Leadership is similar. We can study the grammar of leadership all day, and I love a good leadership model as much as the next executive coach, but people do not experience us as models. They experience our attention, curiosity, timing, style, and whether we listen before we jump in with the answer we had already tucked in our pocket.

Wooten also writes about space as part of music. That one should be required reading for anyone who has ever filled a silence in a meeting because the pause made them feel squirmy. But silence isn't something to be avoided at all costs. The moment a pause appears, there's no need to rush to fill it with another opinion, explanation, or attempt to move the conversation along.

Musicians know the value of silent pauses, called ‘rests’ in music notation. The rests are part of the music, equally as important (and sometimes even more important than) the notes. In leadership, the pause is often where the more honest thought finally has room to arrive.

Herbie Hancock has told a story about playing with Miles Davis that has stayed with me for years. During a performance, Hancock played what he thought was the wrong chord, and was rattled in the moment. Miles responded by playing something that made the chord work. That story captures one of the most mature leadership behaviours I know: the ability to work with what has happened rather than burn energy wishing the original plan had survived contact with reality.

Leaders face wrong chords all the time. A project stalls, a stakeholder reacts badly, a talented person disappoints you, or the meeting takes a turn no one predicted. Some leaders freeze because reality has deviated from the sheet music in front of them. Others adjust and find the next note by listening for what's emerging.

Then there's Taylor Swift. She may seem like an unusual addition to a list that includes conductors, jazz musicians, classical performers, and music producers, but I think she offers one of the most powerful leadership lessons of all.

Years ago, when ownership of her master recordings became a highly public issue, she faced a situation many leaders encounter in one form or another. Something important was no longer under her control.

Most people, when faced with that situation, focus on the fight. They pour their energy into winning the argument, defeating the opponent, or getting back what was lost. Taylor Swift chose a different path. Rather than spending years fighting a battle on someone else's terms, she re-recorded her catalogue and created a new version of the future. That strikes me as a remarkably useful leadership lesson.

When leaders feel stuck, they often assume they have two choices: accept reality or fight reality. Sometimes there is a third option. Build a different game. I can't tell you how many times I've watched leaders exhaust themselves trying to force a door open when they would have been far better served looking for a different entrance altogether.

Rick Rubin brings a different kind of wisdom into the conversation. In his amazing book, The Creative Act, he writes about creativity through the lens of attention, receptivity, and noticing what wants to emerge. That may sound a bit woo-woo until you consider the damage that can be caused by action without awareness. Many leaders are praised for moving quickly, making decisions, and pushing things forward, even when they are moving quickly in the wrong direction. Rubin’s work reminds me that insight often starts before action. It starts with noticing the pattern, the tension, the missing conversation, or the thing everyone has learned to politely step around.

Yo-Yo Ma offers another leadership lesson, especially through his long-standing work with Silkroad, the organization he founded to bring together artists and cultural traditions from around the world to create something meaningful together. At first glance, that sounds like a music project. In reality, it is a masterclass in collaboration across difference. How do people with different histories, perspectives, experiences, and ways of seeing the world create something together without sacrificing what makes each of them unique?

That feels painfully relevant right now. Many leaders are trying to create alignment in environments where people don't see the world the same way, don't process information the same way, and don't always feel safe saying what they really think. Ma's work reflects a deep respect for curiosity, difference, and the discipline required to create something meaningful across traditions. Curiosity is not decorative in those conditions. It is operationally useful.

Then there is Wynton Marsalis, who has often described jazz as a metaphor for democracy. I think it also offers a useful lens for leadership. Jazz succeeds because each musician has the freedom to contribute their own voice while staying accountable to the rhythm, structure, and needs of the ensemble.

That is also what healthy organizations are trying to build. People need room to think and contribute, but they also need enough shared structure that the whole thing does not turn into twelve soloists competing for oxygen.

I think this is why music keeps giving me better leadership metaphors than most leadership books. Music understands influence without control. It understands dynamics, tension, timing, cadence, pace, listening, calibration, collaboration, and the reality that performance depends on both individual mastery and collective trust. When we pay attention to the whole sound, we notice who is carrying too much and who has gone silent, and we can sense when the tempo is too fast for the quality of performance that’s required.

True leadership is not about proving your own brilliance; it's about making more brilliance possible around you. What stays with me is that every one of these musicians, in very different ways, points to the same truth. Leadership involves shaping the conditions that allow great performances to happen, helping people contribute their best work and connect it to something larger than themselves. The leaders people remember are the ones who helped others find their voice, trust one another, and create something better than any one person could have produced alone.

If you want to expand your leadership repertoire, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

HAS YOUR TEAM BECOME BEIGE? How Humour, Playfulness, and Humanity Make Your Team Stronger

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

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There’s a guy at the front of the room, droning over his Powerpoints with the emotional range of a beige filing cabinet. Someone mumbles, “Great point, Ken,” without looking up from his phone. Someone else suggests they “circle back for confirmation and feedback” after the meeting. The rest of the team is not-so-subtly filling out their Meeting Buzzword Bingo cards: “Low-hanging fruit.” “Move the needle.” “Bandwidth.” “Synergy.” “Let’s socialize this.” And the senior leader stares into the abyss of his endless, joyless, budget meeting.

There is no joy here. Nobody laughs. Nobody relaxes. Not a single smirk was had.

And we still wonder why creativity, innovation, and engagement are disappearing faster than the free donuts in the lunchroom.

I spend a lot of time coaching senior leaders, and I’ve noticed something, well, funny. The leaders with the healthiest, highest-functioning teams are usually the most human. Not sloppy or inappropriate. And not trying too hard, like trying to amp up the latest TikTok slang.” Trust me, nobody wants to hear the VP say “it’s giving disruption.”

The best leaders often know how to create emotional oxygen - and they do it with humour and forms of play. Their teams laugh. There’s looseness. People interrupt each other with excitement. Someone occasionally says something weird, and they all laugh together; not 'at', but 'with' each other. The atmosphere feels alive.

And before somebody rushes into the comments to say, “Well, business is serious,” yes, of course it is. So is heart surgery. Research on surgical teams has shown that appropriate humour can reduce tension, strengthen team cohesion, and help clinicians cope in high-stress environments. Serious work has never required emotional sterility. Human beings are not machines.

Research has also consistently linked humour and positive emotional states with lower stress, stronger social bonding, better creativity, and improved cognitive flexibility under pressure; all aspects that contribute to high-performance teams.

A study published in the journal Emotion found that positive moods broaden attention and improve creative problem solving ("The Broaden-and-Build Theory of Positive Emotions," Fredrickson, 2001). Research from Stanford Graduate School of Business has also explored how humour increases status and interpersonal connection in leaders ("Humour, Power, and Status," Cooper, Kong & Crossley, 2018). Even the Mayo Clinic has written extensively about humour’s physiological impact on stress reduction and resilience ("Stress Relief from Laughter? It’s No Joke," Mayo Clinic, updated 2023).

It makes sense. Nobody does their sharpest thinking while simultaneously trying not to sound foolish. You can feel people editing themselves before they speak. Every sentence arrives pre-approved by Legal, rinsed and fluffed by Corporate Communications, and carefully scrubbed of anything that might accidentally sound human.

Meanwhile, belly laughs are coming from down the hall. "Why can't I be part of THOSE meetings?", we grumble. Teams doing extraordinary work often sound like they're having fun. It's a little chaotic, there’s energy, and teasing. There's room for personality and authenticity, and enough psychological safety that people stop rehearsing every sentence before speaking.

I once worked with an executive who was widely respected for her brilliant strategic mind. She was equally well known (one might say notorious) for her relentless intensity and razor-sharp scrutiny. When she entered meetings, it was a sphincter-shifting moment for her team. People physically changed posture! Backs straightened. Shoulders tightened. Voices flattened. And any remnants of humour disappeared instantly. Think the Devil Wears Prada's Miranda Priestly without the zinger punchlines. When she arrived on the floor, instant messages pinged across the team, as staff alerted each other to her presence. You could almost hear everybody’s internal monologue as she arrived: “Okay, everyone, gird your loins.”

In one of our coaching sessions, she said she wanted to find a way to get her team of Vice Presidents to lead more strategically. She thought they typically spent too much time in the weeds, and she'd noticed that they answered carefully, second-guessed themselves, and spoke as if they were students trying not to disappoint a terrifying university professor. She didn't realize that every interaction with her felt high stakes. Again, a wonderful human being and a smart leader with good intentions. But somewhere along the line, she had unconsciously equated seriousness and a critical edge with good leadership. 

Lots of leaders do this. Everything becomes heavy, measured, controlled, earnest, and they become emotionally exhausting in the name of professionalism. Meanwhile, their employees are sitting there thinking: “At what point does a meeting legally qualify as a hostage situation?"

Humour matters because tension matters. Every workplace has tension: deadlines, politics, conflict, pressure, uncertainty, competing priorities. And leaders have enormous influence over whether that tension becomes corrosive or connective.

Connective tension is when the right kind of humour releases pressure without dismissing reality. It tells people: “We can survive hard things without becoming emotionally constipated.” That’s leadership.

And no, this is not permission to become the office comedian. Some leaders hear “bring more humour” and think they suddenly need to transform their PowerPoint presentation into a 12-minute stand-up routine. Please... just don’t. There’s a difference between performative humour and relational humour. One desperately needs attention. The other creates connection.

The most effective humour in leadership is usually self-aware, gentle, and human. It often comes from leaders who are comfortable enough with themselves to stop 'performing perfection'. That kind of humour builds trust because it lowers perceived hierarchy. People exhale around leaders who feel emotionally real and who can laugh at themselves.

I remember one CEO telling me about a disastrous presentation where his technology failed. His speaking notes disappeared, and he accidentally advanced to a slide containing a private reminder that simply said:

“SLOW DOWN. YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN BEING CHASED THROUGH THE WOODS BY A WOLVERINE.”

The entire audience burst out laughing. According to him, it became the strongest presentation connection point he'd had all year. Why? Because everybody suddenly relaxed. The mask cracked. Collective humanity appeared.

Nobody trusts perfection anymore, anyway. We’ve all met those leaders who speak in flawless corporate language while looking like they haven’t experienced a genuine emotion since 2014. That’s not executive presence; that's a corporate chatbot with a pension plan.

Playfulness also matters far more than most organizations realize. I'm not talking about childishness, but rather playfulness. Curiosity, experimentation, lightness, and the willingness to think sideways. Some of the strongest leadership teams I’ve ever encountered, or been lucky enough to be part of, spent some of their meeting time laughing, because they trusted each other enough to think and speak freely.

Research into “Happiness and Productivity” (University of Warwick, 2014) found that happiness can increase productivity by about 12 percent. Other studies have also connected positive emotional states with better problem-solving and broader cognitive flexibility.

This matters because some organizations slowly drain the spontaneity out of communication. People stop speaking casually. Comments get 'optimized', and every email starts sounding like it was reviewed by three lawyers and a hostage negotiator. Listen, nobody wants to say the wrong thing or look foolish. And when nobody is willing to loosen their grip for even ten seconds, eventually, people stop bringing bold ideas altogether. Boldness requires psychological safety, but we humans get cautious when our environment feels emotionally risky.

One of the most useful questions a leader can ask is this: “When was the last time this team laughed together naturally?” I'm not talking about forced fun, like mandatory bowling or trust falls. (Hey, nothing says “this workplace understands human dignity” quite like falling backward into the arms of Steve from Procurement.) I mean real laughter; the kind that happens when people feel safe enough to stop managing themselves so tightly.

Laughter can be diagnostic. Humour is often evidence of the presence of trust, of belonging, and nervous system regulation.  Healthy teams laugh. Not all day, and not constantly, but regularly. And leaders who understand that have an enormous advantage, especially now. Our modern workplaces are tired. People are carrying stress levels that would have sounded medically concerning ten years ago. Many employees feel emotionally overextended, socially cautious, and mentally saturated.

Leaders who can create moments of fun, relief, humanity, and emotional brightness without becoming performative become magnetic. People are drawn toward leaders who can help them feel human.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

For the next two weeks, treat this like a social experiment. Your mission is to see whether small moments of humour and humanity change the emotional climate around you.

Try a few of these:

• Show up to one meeting and announce a ban on corporate jargon entirely. Tell them that every time somebody says, “circle back,” “bandwidth,” or “move the needle,” you will all dramatically sigh like a Victorian widow.

• Tell one story where you were genuinely ridiculous, awkward, or silly. Not polished vulnerability, but the kind where people laugh because they recognize themselves in it.

• Notice how often people shrink their own ideas before speaking. You can usually tell what's coming because they offer qualifiers like “Maybe this is stupid…” “I haven’t thought this through…” "I might be wrong but..." When it happens, interrupt the self-editing with warmth: “Say the thing.” “No disclaimers.” “Now I really want to hear it.”

• Monitor for Beige. Give everyone permission to call out moments when the team starts sounding emotionally over-polished. Encourage callouts like “That sounds a bit beige.” “Your answer sounds suspiciously lawyer-approved,” or “Try that again, but as a human.”

Then reflect on these questions:

1. Which experiment created the biggest shift in energy, and what changed specifically?

2. What surprised you most about your team’s response to a little more humanity?

3. How often did you notice people softening, shrinking, or beige-ifying their contributions before speaking?

4. What happened when you interrupted that pattern and invited the real thought instead?

5. If your team had permission to be a little less polished and a little more human going forward, what might become possible?

Somewhere along the way, many organizations trained personality out of professionalism. I think it’s time to bring a little of it back.

If your team has become emotionally cautious, overly polished, or painfully beige, and you want to build a leadership culture where people think more freely, collaborate more honestly, and actually enjoy working together again, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

HOW DO YOU KNOW YOUR LEADERSHIP IS WORKING? Accurate Self-Assessment for High-Performance Leadership

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Most leaders I work with don’t struggle with effort. They’re showing up, working hard, and trying to get it right. The harder question just below the surface is whether all of that effort is translating into high-performance leadership.

If that question feels a bit uncomfortable, that’s understandable. Accurate self-assessment can be challenging. And as your leadership career moves up, signals get softer. People choose their words more carefully, and that makes it easy to fill in the gaps with our own assumptions. If things aren’t falling apart, it must be working. If the team is delivering, leadership must be effective. If no one is pushing back, things must be aligned. I’ve seen this play out with strong leaders more than once, and it rarely leads where they expect.

High-performance leadership shows up in patterns over time and in what happens when we are not present. The most useful indicators are often easy to miss because they sit in the background of day-to-day work. A more accurate read starts to show up when we pay attention to what repeats, not what happens once.

• Ownership: When something important is in motion, where does it land? Does it move forward through others, or return to us? Work that consistently comes back often points to how expectations, trust, or decisions are set. Leaders who are highly responsive tend to step in quickly, which may help in the moment but can train the system to route work back to them. Over time, ownership concentrates instead of spreading.

• Contribution: In meetings, are we hearing fully formed ideas, or cautious half-steps? High-performing teams speak before everything is perfectly shaped. When everything sounds safe, something is likely being held back. Leaders who jump in quickly with their own thinking can shorten the space others need to think out loud or challenge direction, which narrows contribution (even while conversations feel efficient).

• Decision Durability: When an agreement has been made, does it stick, reopen, shift, or stall? Agreement can happen quickly, while commitment shows up later. A decisive leader can drive toward closure fast, which can be useful, but it can also lead to premature agreement that doesn’t hold after people leave the room.

• Presence: How much depends on us being there? If momentum rises with our involvement and drops without it, the system is relying on us more than it should. What happens when we step out of an email thread or a meeting? Does work stall until we join, or do conversations stall until we weigh in with our opinion? High responsiveness amplifies this pattern by speeding up progress when we engage and slowing it down when we step back, creating uneven momentum.

If we watch closely, we start to notice patterns in how these signals show up in our everyday rhythm. And once those patterns become visible to us, we can't unsee them. A more interesting question then begins to emerge: How does my leadership style influence outcomes over time?

That question keeps our development work grounded in curiosity, and it opens up a different way of looking at what’s happening. If our impact is shaped by what others experience, rather than by what we intended, then a gap can open up. We may believe we are creating clarity while others feel pressure, or think we are being supportive while others experience us stepping in too quickly.

And here's another angle worth paying attention to: leadership is experienced over time through tone and timing. People learn how to respond to us based on repeated interactions, and those responses shape what becomes possible.

When we look at it this way, our self-assessment becomes more accurate because attention shifts toward observable patterns instead of internal confidence.

This is where experimentation becomes useful, because small adjustments create insights about what actually changes.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Choose one situation this week and run a small, deliberate experiment. Keep it simple so you can see what changes.

• In a meeting where you normally drive the conversation, hold your view for a few beats longer than usual, then watch who steps in and what emerges before you speak.

• Choose one decision that was made in a meeting and name ownership before closing the discussion, then leave the decision untouched for a few days and observe whether it holds or drifts.

Capture what you notice in real time. Look for shifts in ownership, contribution, and follow-through, and use those signals to adjust your next move.

Over time, your observations become data you can rely on. They show you where your leadership is creating movement, and where it is getting in the way. That’s the shift that sticks.

 If you are curious about how to evolve your leadership, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

FEEDBACK ISN’T YOUR PROBLEM (But Your Relationship to Feedback Might Be)

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

Most leaders believe they’re open to feedback… right up until the moment they hear something they don’t like. But it’s what happens next that reveals our relationship to it.

I remember sitting across from a senior leader who told me he was "very open to feedback". He wasn’t posturing; he meant it. He regularly asked for input, encouraged it, and even thanked people for it. Technically, he was doing all the right things, right up until that critical moment.

His peer offered him feedback about a client meeting they attended together. Within seconds of hearing her observations, he stepped in with all the context: a bit of background, a quick clarification, a touch of justification, a hint of over-explaining, even a suggestion that she had misread his intentions; then a gentle repositioning of what he meant versus what actually happened. It was a lot. He was articulate, calm, and had been completely effective at shutting the whole thing down. His peer didn't argue or push back, and the conversation just wrapped itself up. From his perspective, it was a good exchange. From hers, it wasn’t worth pushing any further - or doing in the future.

This is where the real issue lies: we each have our own special relationship to feedback, a unique pattern of reactions that show up in the first few seconds after we hear it. That relationship determines whether the conversation opens up or closes down. While we’re looking for clear, useful input, our team and colleagues are asking themselves how much of this is actually safe to say.

Amy Edmondson’s research at Harvard Business School has shown that when people sense even a small interpersonal risk, they adjust by softening their message, rounding off the edges, and removing the parts that might upset or land poorly. The feedback doesn’t disappear, but it loses its teeth, sometimes becoming so neutral and mushy that it's unrecognizable - and unusable as a result.

There’s another layer that shows up before feedback is even given: the way most leaders ask for feedback makes it harder to offer anything useful. “Is there anything I could do differently?” sounds generous, but it leaves the other person with too much space and not enough direction. The brain stalls. There’s nothing concrete to grab onto.

Now compare that to, “What’s one thing I could do differently in our next client meeting?” That question gives the other person somewhere to start. It’s specific, focused, and much easier to answer. This small shift can create a big difference.

Now layer that with what happens after the feedback lands, because this is where our relationship to feedback shows up in full colour. We rarely receive feedback as 'neutral data'. Most often, we see it as someone's interpretation of something they saw us say or do. It brushes up against our identity, competence, and reputation, and it pokes the part of us that wants to be seen as credible, valued, and in control. That means we're not just hearing the feedback; we're reacting to what we think it says about us as a person.

Our brains are wired to react fast. Research in social neuroscience by Matthew Lieberman at UCLA shows that perceived social threats, including criticism, can activate the same neural pathways as physical pain. Think about that: our brains interpret both as pain! So the urge to explain, clarify, or straighten the record isn’t a personality flaw; it's a hard-wired reflex. The issue shows up when we're not aware that the reflex has taken us over.

Our teams watch those micro-moments closely. They notice how long we stay with a hard comment, whether we get curious or defensive, and whether the conversation opens up or closes down. Over time, they adjust and bring us the version of feedback that keeps things moving, avoids friction, and sounds useful without creating risk.

And just like that, our access to deeper insights about ourselves narrows. Meetings still happen, conversations still feel productive, and we still believe we’re open to feedback. We just don’t realize how much of it never makes it to us.

Think about the last time someone offered you feedback. What did you do in the first few seconds after you heard it? Was there something that didn’t sit well? Was your instinct to move to resolve it? Did you stay open and curious with it? Did you explain? Did you have the urge to tidy the moment, or did you let it breathe? These are some common reactions to feedback in the moment. What's yours typically?

One leader I worked with ran a simple experiment. Every time he received feedback, he had to ask one more question about their observation. Not a deep dive series of questions that would feel like an interrogation, just one genuine question intended to help him understand what the other person was seeing. At first, it felt awkward and slower than his usual pace, and he worried it made him look unsure.

What actually happened was different. People started giving more details without being asked, offering examples, and staying in genuine conversation longer. The feedback became sharper and more useful because his stance in the moment had changed.

This is where stance matters. In feedback conversations, our job as the receiver is simple (but not easy): receive the feedback, thank the person for offering it, ask a clarifying question if something isn’t clear, and then reflect. Not defend; not explain; reflect. That reflection is where we close blind spots and gaps we can’t see on our own, and it’s the part most of us skip because it can be uncomfortable.

Nothing about the feedback itself had changed. His relationship to it had. We don’t need to agree with every piece of feedback we receive, and we don’t need to suppress our reactions. We do need to notice them and resist acting on them too quickly. Staying in the moment a little longer and asking a genuine question changes what becomes available to us. It also changes how people experience us, and that ultimately determines whether they will tell us what we need to hear.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think about the last piece of feedback that stayed with you; the one that lingered, and felt genuinely uncomfortable. What happened in your head in the first few seconds?

Now imagine that moment again, but this time, you take on a deliberate stance as the receiver.

First, receive it fully. No interruption, no correction, no facial gymnastics. Just take it in without judgment or defense.

Second, acknowledge the person. Not just a quick “thanks,” but a genuine appreciation for both the perspective and the courage it took to offer it. Feedback, especially upward or sideways, feels risky. When we recognize that, we create the psychological safety for honesty in the future.

Third, get curious. Ask one question that helps you understand what they saw, heard, or experienced. Stay out of defending your intent and lean into understanding their reality. For example: “Can you say a bit more about what you noticed in that moment?” or “What impact did that have for you?”

Then, thank them for their feedback.

Lastly, and this is the part most people miss: reflect. Take time after the conversation to sit with it. Consider what might be true, even if it’s only partially true. Look for patterns, examples, and evidence of what others might be seeing that you’re not.

Reflect on these questions:

• What part of this feedback felt most uncomfortable, and why?

• What story did I start telling myself about what this means about me?

• What pieces might be valid here, even if I don’t fully agree?

• Where have I seen a version of this before?

• If I took this seriously, what would I experiment with doing differently?

After your reflection, take some time to close the loop. Let the person know what you took from the conversation and what you’re thinking about doing with their feedback. This builds trust and reinforces that their voice matters.

Try this once this week. Not perfectly, just deliberately. That’s where the shift starts.

If this surfaced a blind spot, or you want to deepen your relationship to feedback, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

LACK OF PRODUCTIVE CONFLICT IS A WARNING SIGNAL: How Politeness Culture Filters Out the Truth

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO THE AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

You’ve likely been in this meeting (and if you’re honest, you may have even been running it). You lay out a direction, walk the group through your thinking, and open the floor. A few people nod as you speak. Someone says 'It makes sense'. Another adds that they are on board and ready to move forward. The tone is smooth, the discussion feels easy, and nothing in the room signals friction. You leave that conversation reassured that you have alignment.

A few weeks later, the energy is different. The work is moving, but not with any real momentum. You find yourself stepping in more than expected, answering questions that shouldn't need your input, and wondering why something that seemed so clear is not gaining traction.

This is usually the point where leaders turn their attention to execution. They start tightening timelines, increasing check-ins, and stepping in more frequently to keep things moving. It feels like a delivery problem that needs more oversight or clearer direction.

But the breakdown did not start in the execution phase. It started earlier, in the meeting itself, when alignment appeared to be present but was never fully established. What looked like agreement, wasn't; it was a group of people making a rapid, often unconscious decision about how to respond in that moment. For some, it may have been about protecting the relationship. For others, it was about not slowing things down, not wanting to challenge too early, or not being certain their perspective would add value. And for some, it was simply easier to agree in the moment and revisit it later, even if that conversation never actually happened.

If this sounds familiar, you're in good company. In Canadian workplaces, politeness shapes how people respond in real time, especially when they are unsure how their input will land. It influences what gets said, how it is said, and in many cases, whether it even gets said at all.

Over time, that creates a gap between what is expressed in the room and what people are actually thinking. Leaders hear support. Teams experience something more complicated.

I recently coached a senior leader who couldn't understand why his teams weren't giving him honest feedback, or bringing forward stronger ideas to challenge the status quo. He had been very clear that he wanted input. He said it often, and he meant it. From his perspective, the invitation was wide open.

From his team’s perspective, they saw it differently. He moved quickly in meetings and responded to ideas as they were raised. He tended to build on what he liked and move past what he did not, often without much pause. He also closed discussions as soon as he felt he had enough to make a decision (which happened faster than he realized). None of his behaviour was aggressive or dismissive; it was just how he liked to operate.

In these conditions he'd created, his team had stopped testing ideas that were not fully formed. They held back perspectives that might have slowed the conversation down. They paid attention to where he seemed to be leaning and aligned themselves accordingly. The meetings stayed smooth, the tone stayed positive, and the appearance of agreement remained intact.

From the outside, the issue is easy to spot. From the inside, it is almost invisible. They were operating within it, shaped by it, adapting to it in real time, like fish that have no awareness of the water they're swimming in. People were no longer bringing their full thinking into the room. They were participating, but in a narrower way; contributing, but without the same level of ownership. They were staying engaged enough to keep things moving while gradually pulling back from conversations that held greater risk.

That shift is easy to miss because it does not create obvious disruption. There are no raised voices, no visible conflict, and no obvious signs that something is wrong. Everything continues to look professional and well-managed.

The cost shows up later, when decisions move forward without the benefit of a broader perspective. Execution starts to stall. Leaders find themselves carrying more of the load than they expected, stepping in to clarify, reinforce, and push things along.

At that point, it is tempting to question commitment, engagement, or capability. More often, the issue is access. Access to what people are actually seeing, thinking, and questioning. Access to the ideas that stayed in someone’s head because the moment did not feel right to share it. Access to the concerns that were softened beyond being recognizable, or left unsaid altogether. When that access narrows, the quality of thinking narrows with it.

This matters even more in the current environment. Canadian organizations are operating with tighter margins, higher expectations, and less room for missteps. Leaders need people who are willing to engage fully, especially when the path forward is not obvious. Politeness, when it goes unchecked, can work against that.

So the question shifts. Instead of wondering why people are not speaking up, it would be more useful to ask what they are responding to in how you lead. Your behaviour sets the conditions for how far others are willing to go. When you jump in within seconds of someone speaking, wrap a discussion before others have weighed in, or signal a preferred direction through your tone or follow-up questions, people notice. They constantly read your pace, your reactions, and your follow-through.

They notice how quickly you respond to ideas and which ones you stay with. They notice whether a differing perspective changes anything or simply gets set aside. They notice how much space there is to think before the conversation moves on.

These signals shape participation far more than any verbal invitation. When people see that their input can influence direction, they lean in. When they don't see that connection, they conserve their effort and contribute in more predictable ways that feel safer. And those conversations, while they may be easier to manage, are ultimately less useful.

Leaders who want stronger engagement often focus on saying the right things: asking for feedback, inviting challenge, and reinforcing candour and openness. Those behaviours matter, of course, but they're not the deciding factor. People are looking for evidence: for moments where input changes the course of a discussion; for signs that it'll be worth the effort to bring forward something that may not land perfectly; for a reason to believe that speaking up will make a difference. That evidence is created in how you handle the conversation, not in how you frame the invitation.

When that evidence is present, you experience a shift. Conversations deepen, and people stay in the discussion longer. When it is not present, politeness fills that space and limits what is shared. Over time, that creates distance between what leaders hear and what their teams are actually thinking. And that distance is where disengagement grows.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think about a recent meeting where agreement came quickly; the kind of moment where everyone nodded, and you moved on without resistance.

In your next meeting, when that moment happens again, do something different: Pause the conversation and say, “Before we move on, I want to test something with you. What are we not saying right now?” Then stop talking. Hold the silence. Let the squirmy discomfort show up. Do not rescue the moment, and do not soften the question. This can be harder than it sounds, especially if we're used to a faster pace to a solution.

When someone offers a partial answer, stay with it longer than you normally would. Ask them what else they were considering but chose not to say. Let the room see that 'first layer thinking' isn't enough.

If nothing comes, name that too. Say what you are observing about the speed of agreement, and your curiosity about what might be underneath it.

After the meeting, reflect on what shifted; not just in what was said, but in how the room responded when you disrupted the well-worn pattern. That is where you start to regain access to what is actually in the room.

If you're starting to wonder what's going unsaid in your leadership meetings, that's a conversation worth having. Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

SURROUNDED BY IDIOTS: Avoiding The Trap of Similarity Bias

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Be honest. Who’s the person at work who makes you think, “How did you get this far without adult supervision?” You have one. I have one. We all have that one colleague. The one who overthinks everything and wants a subcommittee to review the subcommittee’s findings. Or the one who makes a snap decision and moves on without any real data to go on. The one who needs all the data before they can get into motion. The one who says, “I just have a gut feeling” without anything to base it on. The person who wants harmony over addressing the real challenges. Or the one who walks into the meeting and detonates it, just to see what happens.

At some point, if we are courageous enough to admit it, we have all muttered a private version of the phrase popularized by Thomas Erikson in his bestselling book, Surrounded by Idiots. It is a funny title that also reveals something uncomfortable. Most of us have silently nominated someone for that award.

BUT WHAT IF THEY’RE NOT IDIOTS?

Before you write them off as annoying, flawed, or completely out to lunch, consider this: what if they are simply wired differently than you? One of the most important leadership lessons I have learned, and relearned, is this: difference is not deficiency.

In Chapter 4 of Coaching Life, I explore personality types and wiring. Not as labels, and not as excuses, but as lenses. Our wiring shapes how we process information, communicate, make decisions, and interpret behaviour. It influences how quickly we speak, how much detail we need, how much risk we tolerate, and how we respond to tension.

Carl Jung’s early work on psychological types laid the foundation for many modern personality tools. Later models, such as DISC, Insights Discovery, and others, translated those preferences into practical language that leaders could actually use. Daniel Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence expanded the conversation by showing that success in leadership depends less on technical ability and more on self-awareness and relational skill.

And even with all this research available, we still fall into a very human trap. We assume that our way is the right and reasonable way. The grown-up way. The way that should probably be laminated and handed out during onboarding training.

HOW SIMILARITY BIAS BITES US IN THE BUTT

There is strong evidence that we are naturally drawn to people who think and behave like us. Social psychologists call this similarity bias. We trust people who feel familiar, interpret their behaviour more generously, and see their strengths more clearly.

When someone mirrors our pace, tone, or priorities, we experience it as competence. When someone does the opposite, we experience it as friction, or incompetence, or a threat to everything we hold dear.

Think about the people in your life and see if some of these contrasts feel familiar. These are not personality types, just examples of how different wiring can show up at work:

• The analytical leader experiences the fast decision maker as reckless.

• The fast decision maker experiences the analytical leader as paralysing.

• The relationship-focused leader experiences the direct one as abrasive.

• The direct leader experiences the relational one as overly sensitive.

Notice what just happened. In less time than it takes to refill your coffee, we turned a style preference into a personality defect. We moved from wiring difference to moral judgment in seconds. But your irritation is just information. It’s not proof of a character flaw in someone else. It’s just a signal that something about this interaction is rubbing against your own wiring and preferences. It’s your nervous system flashing a small yellow light that says, “This is not how I think, or would do this.”

In Chapter 13 of Coaching Life, I write about relational awareness and the ability to notice not only what is happening between us, but what is happening inside of us, too. When we feel a surge of frustration in a meeting, that reaction is data that tells us something about our preferences. It doesn’t necessarily tell us that there is something wrong with the other person.

DECISION MAKING: WHERE WIRING COLLIDES

It is in the arena of decision-making that we can really see wiring differences in action. Some people process externally by thinking out loud, and we can hear their brain working in real time. They explore possibilities verbally, and silence typically makes them uncomfortable.

Others process internally. They need time to reflect before speaking. Rapid-fire questions or fast-paced discussion feel chaotic and risky. They look calm, which makes the external processors slightly more uncomfortable.

Some of us decide quickly once we recognize a pattern, and we’re comfortable acting with only partial information. Others want to thoroughly examine risk, implications, and downstream impact before committing to action.

There is no inherently superior approach, although each camp is usually convinced that theirs is. Research on cognitive diversity suggests that teams with varied thinking styles can outperform more homogeneous teams, particularly when tackling complex problems. The challenge is not the diversity itself. It is our inability to interpret it without judgment.

Instead of saying, “You move too fast,” we think, “You are careless.” Instead of saying, “You need more time,” we think, “You lack backbone.” When leaders collapse wiring differences into character flaws, it can have a devastating effect on team culture.

EQ IS NOT ABOUT BEING NICE

Emotional intelligence is often misunderstood as simply empathy, warmth, or emotional expression. Those are elements of it, certainly, but they are not the whole picture. At its core, emotional intelligence is a behavioural range. It is the capacity to notice your default wiring and stretch beyond it when the situation requires something else.

If you are naturally direct, can you soften your delivery so that a more relational colleague can hear you? If you are highly relational, can you tolerate a sharper exchange without personalizing it? If you decide quickly, can you slow down long enough to invite dissent or diverse inputs? If you prefer deep analysis, can you act before you feel completely ready?

We can learn to adjust our communication based on who is in the room, without abandoning our authenticity. By expanding our repertoire, we can connect and communicate effectively with everyone on our team, not just the ones who are wired like us. That expansion requires effort that can be uncomfortable, and sometimes even feel threatening.

WHY CHANGE FEELS SO HARD

In Chapter 11, I explore the psychology of change. Our wiring becomes familiar territory because it has served us well. It helped us succeed, after all. So when someone suggests we adjust it, even slightly, it can feel like an attack on our competence. This is where leadership maturity shows up. Can you hold two truths at once? Your wiring is valid, and it is not universal.

You are not wrong for preferring speed, detail, harmony, candour, reflection, action, structure, or improvisation. But when you lead others, your preferences can’t be the only operating system in the room. The leader who refuses to stretch into different communication styles and preferences creates an invisible hierarchy that says: my way equals professional; your way equals problematic. And that can seem quite ego-driven to the people we lead.

The next time someone triggers you, pause. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with them?” try asking, “What is different about them? What pace do they prefer? How do they process information? What makes them feel secure? What makes them feel pressured?”

You may discover that the person you labelled as difficult is actually providing something your team needs. The cautious analyst may be preventing a costly mistake. The bold decision maker may be preventing stagnation. The relational leader may be building trust in ways you cannot see. Difference is not deficiency; it’s often the thing that brings the most value.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think of one person at work who typically activates you.

Step 1: Name the irritation clearly.
What exactly do they do that gets under your skin? Is it their pace? Their tone? Their need for detail? Their bluntness? Their hesitancy? Vague irritation is not useful data. Be specific.

Step 2: Decode the wiring beneath the behaviour.
Translate each irritation into a neutral description of their preference. Fast might mean decisive. Slow might mean reflective. Direct might mean candid. Diplomatic might mean attuned to impact. Ask yourself:

• What decision-making style is this?

• How do they appear to process information, externally or internally?

• What might make them feel competent or secure in a discussion?

Step 3: Examine your own bias.
Which of their behaviours clashes most strongly with your default wiring? What does that reveal about your preferences? Where might you be interpreting difference as deficiency?

Step 4: Look for the value.
Where could this style strengthen the team? What risk does it mitigate? What blind spot of yours might it be balancing? In what way are you grateful for this?

Step 5: Choose a deliberate stretch.
Select one small behavioural adjustment for your next interaction. If you move quickly, slow your pace and invite input. If you analyse deeply, commit sooner. If you soften everything, be clearer. If you are blunt, add context. Do not reinvent your personality – expand your range.

Step 6: After the interaction, reflect.

• What shifted in the dynamic?

• How did it shape their reaction?

• What did you learn about them?

• What did you learn about yourself?

RESOURCES FOR EXPLORING PERSONALITY AND WIRING

If this topic intrigues you and you would like to go deeper, there are several credible starting points. These tools are most powerful when used not as labels, but as mirrors, to help us see our patterns, widen our behavioural range, and interpret others with more generosity.

• Thomas Erikson’s Surrounded by Idiots. A popular business book that interprets behavioural differences through a simplified DISC-based lens.

• William Moulton Marston’s DISC theory. The behavioural model that later informed many workplace assessments.

• Insights Discovery. A Jungian-based colour model widely used in organisations to build self-awareness and relational skill.

• The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. A structured application of Jung’s work that explores preferences in perception and decision-making.

• Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence. The research that expanded leadership conversations beyond technical competence.

• The Wisdom of the Enneagram, by Don Richard Riso and Russ Hudson. A deeper exploration of motivation, fear, and developmental growth patterns.

• Carl Jung’s Psychological Types. The original foundation for much of modern personality theory.

• Coaching Life: Navigating Life’s Most Common Coaching Topics, by Leslie Rohonczy, available in paperback and audiobook

If you are ready to grow your behavioural range and lead across personality differences with more skill, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

VISIBILITY IS NOT SELF-PROMOTION: Legible Leadership Presence

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You can be respected, competent, and indispensable, and still be invisible where power and influence are actually shaped. You do great work, deliver on objectives, carry responsibility, and when the strategic conversation shifts, your voice isn’t helping to shape it. Not because you weren’t invited to the table, but because you assumed your contribution would speak loudly enough on its own. Then, when decisions move ahead without your perspective, disappointment lands with a thud.

VISIBILITY IS NOT SELF-PROMOTION

Many leaders carry the limiting belief that seeking better visibility equals ego. It's as if the desire to be seen gets tangled up with the idea of performative posturing, self-promotion, or 'playing the game.' If we value substance, humility, and doing work that actually matters, that association feels off-putting, distasteful, or risky. So we keep our head down and trust that our good work will speak for itself. 

For a long time, that approach worked. It doesn’t anymore. Not because organisations have suddenly lost their values, but because the system has changed. Complexity has increased, decisions move faster, work is more distributed, and influence now depends not just on contribution, but on whether that contribution is visible, understood, and connected to what the organization is trying to do next. Think of visibility not as noise, but as legibility.

WHEN GOOD WORK STAYS INVISIBLE

Most leaders who struggle with building their visibility aren’t disengaged or insecure. They’re often deeply committed, values-driven, humble, and thoughtful about not centering themselves unnecessarily. They don’t want to dominate airtime or oversell. And they definitely don’t want to be mistaken for someone who talks more than they deliver.

So they wait until the work is perfect; until they’re asked; until the moment feels fully earned. And by the time they speak, the conversation has often moved on. This isn’t a personal shortcoming. It’s a mismatch between how leadership actually works now and how we may have been taught it works.

Decades of research in organizational psychology show that decision makers rely heavily on what is accessible in the moment, not on what exists elsewhere in the system. This cognitive shortcut is known as availability bias, and it shapes far more leadership decisions than anyone likes to admit. If your contribution isn’t present where meaning is being made, it doesn’t shape the outcome, no matter how solid it is.

EXECUTIVE PRESENCE IS FELT, NOT PERFORMED

Executive presence is often misunderstood as polish, confidence, or gravitas. Like a jacket you put on, a tone you adopt, or a posture you perfect.

In practice, presence is something other people experience. It’s the sense that you’re here, that you’re tracking what matters, and that you’re willing to offer your thinking into the shared space in service of the work. Presence helps people orient by providing context and making complexity easier to navigate.

While it may feel like restraint or good manners, when leaders pull back in the name of humility, the system doesn’t experience it that way. It experiences them as absent, and that absence has consequences.

THE COST OF BEING UNSEEN

When capable leaders remain unseen, organisations pay a price: decision-making narrows, risks go unnamed, and familiar patterns repeat. Over time, the same voices shape the future, not because they are always right, or even the most insightful, but because they are the most present. This is how organisations end up under-leveraging talent while wondering why innovation feels harder than it should.

It is also how leaders begin to disengage. Being overlooked rarely triggers anger first; it more often creates doubt. You may start questioning whether your perspective is wanted, if your instincts are sound, or if it feels safer to remain in execution than to step into influence.

That internal contraction is easy to miss, but over time, it steadily erodes confidence, connection, and impact.

VISIBILITY AS LEGIBILITY

Here’s the reframe that changes the conversation: visibility isn’t about drawing attention to yourself; it’s about making your thinking, contribution, and intent legible to the system you’re part of, so others can work with it.

By 'legibility', I mean making your thinking visible enough that others can easily understand what you see, what you’re prioritizing and why, and how you’re making sense of the situation. Legibility answers questions people are often already carrying, whether they say them out loud or not. What are you noticing that others may be missing? What do you believe matters most here, and why? How does this decision connect to where the organization is heading? Who will be most impacted and how?

This kind of visibility is about presence, and doesn’t require broadcasting or self-promotion. It requires the willingness to place your perspective into that shared space early enough that it can still shape understanding.

Sometimes that presence shows up as naming a pattern no one else has articulated yet, or as linking today’s decision to a downstream consequence that others haven't considered. Or it can look like offering context that helps the group see the situation more clearly. None of this is about elevating yourself; it’s about stewardship of the work and the system you are responsible for.

THE CANADIAN CONTEXT

There is an additional layer worth naming here. Our Canadian culture is steeped in norms of politeness, humility, and not drawing undue attention to ourselves. Standing out can feel uncomfortable, even suspect. Speaking too directly can feel impolite. Naming one’s contribution can feel uncomfortably close to self-promotion. These instincts, baked into us as Canadians, are cultural strengths that support trust, collaboration, and social cohesion.

The tension shows up when those same instincts mute our leadership voice. Withholding our perspectives in the name of humility, particularly in organizations that rely on consensus and shared decision-making, doesn’t protect the collective; it leaves the group working at a disadvantage, with less information, context, and perspectives.

Think of it this way: visibility is not about individual advancement; it’s about serving the collective intelligence of the group. Making your thinking legible to others helps others orient, connect dots, and make better decisions together. This is not the self-oriented, ego-driven personal branding cliché that many of us find so distasteful. It’s a contribution to the collective act of leadership.

Seen through this lens, presence is not about asserting yourself. It’s about contributing your share of clarity so the whole system can function more intelligently.

WHY VISIBILITY FEELS UNCOMFORTABLE

For many leaders, discomfort with visibility isn’t about capability so much as deeply personal patterns formed early in their careers or lives. Some learned early on that speaking up carried risk. Others learned that being visible attracted scrutiny they didn’t want. For some, visibility became associated with being judged, misunderstood, or sidelined rather than supported.

Those patterns don’t dissolve just because we have a senior title. They often travel with us, shaping how much space we take up, how quickly we offer our perspective, and how long we wait before entering a conversation.

When these instincts run the show without being examined, they begin to limit impact. Not in obvious or dramatic ways, but through a gradual narrowing of influence and participation. The work isn’t to override or bulldoze those instincts. It’s to look at them honestly and ask whether the cost of staying invisible now outweighs the risk of being seen. In most senior roles, I can tell you it does.

CONTRIBUTION WITHOUT BROADCASTING

There is a middle ground between disappearing and showboating, where we find the most effective leaders contributing with intention and grounded in relevance rather than self-protection or self-promotion.

It often looks like offering our perspective early enough to shape direction, rather than waiting until it feels completely safe to share our opinion. It means speaking to the work and the system, rather than narrating our own effort. It also means trusting that our thinking adds value, even when it is still forming.

Leaders who work this way don't necessarily speak more than others. They speak when it matters, and in service of clarity. Presence, in this sense, is not about volume or dominance. It is about timing, orientation, insight, and contribution.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

This challenge is not about becoming louder, more polished, or more visible for visibility’s sake. It is about allowing more of your thinking to be seen in places where it can genuinely make a difference for the work and for the collective.

Treat this as a practice rather than a personality change. The aim is to experiment with presence, not to perform or self-promote.

1. CHOOSE THE RIGHT CONTEXT: Select one recurring meeting, forum, or decision-making space over the next two weeks where direction is set, priorities are shaped, or meaning is being made (not a purely operational or transactional update meeting).

2. NOTICE YOUR HABITUAL PATTERN: Before the meeting, take a few minutes to reflect on how you usually show up in this space. Where do you tend to hold back? Where do you wait until you are asked? Where do you assume your work will speak for itself?

3. IDENTIFY YOUR LEGIBLE CONTRIBUTION: Ask yourself the following reflection questions: What am I noticing here that would help others orient? What context, pattern, or implication might be missing from the conversation? How does this decision connect to what we are trying to achieve more broadly?

Choose one observation that feels useful to the system or to the collective knowledge of the group (not impressive to you).

1. PLACE YOUR THINKING EARLIER: In the meeting, offer that observation earlier than you normally would. Keep it simple and grounded. Avoid over-explaining, justifying, or softening your point with excessive caveats. Your task is to make your thinking legible, not to massage or defend it.

2. OBSERVE THE IMPACT: After the meeting, reflect on two things. First, what shifted in the room once your perspective was introduced? Second, what did you notice in yourself when you chose presence over restraint?

This practice is not about ego or performance. Practiced this way, visibility becomes a generous act of leadership and a contribution to the collective intelligence of the system.

If this article resonates, and you want to grow your leadership visibility, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com

'SOFT SKILLS' ARE FOR SOFT LEADERS: Skipping the Hardest Part of the Job

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“Soft skills” are for soft leaders. There. I said it.

I know... You probably didn’t expect to hear that from me. When I first typed the title for this article, I thought, “Well, this feels a bit spicy for LinkedIn!” But stay with me.

The phrase “soft skills” has always given me hives. Not because I don't value the things that people usually mean when they say it, or that I think these things are optional or less important than technical skills. It’s because this limiting language massively underplays what relational skills actually bring to and demand from a leader.

And when I refer to “soft leaders”, I mean the ones who intentionally avoid or dismiss the EQ side of their work. By sidestepping, outsourcing, or dismissing them altogether, they're choosing to leave these core leadership skills undeveloped. Which means they’re only doing half their job.

Think about it this way: by the time someone reaches a senior leadership role, technical competence is rarely the hardest part of the job anymore. Most leaders I work with are smart and capable; they know their industry, their numbers, and how to make decisions under pressure. None of that is new territory.

But what many wish they had a playbook for is 'that people stuff', as one senior VP I worked with called it. While I find that phrase rash-inducing, too, it does capture what shows up when the org chart gets taller and the culture stakes get higher.

This is relational leadership work, and it’s not soft, optional, or incidental. It’s the work of leading humans, the ongoing responsibility of building trust, regulating yourself, repairing relationships, and creating the conditions for other people to do great work.

It's things like emotional heavy lifting, relational clean up, continuous self-regulation, and the cognitive load of making consequential decisions while absorbing other people’s anxiety. It's also about holding the dynamic role tension of staying calm, decisive, compassionate, and contained, often all at once, while steadying a room, staying grounded during conflict, and repairing trust after small but consequential cracks appear.

Somehow, we’ve decided to call all of this soft skills, as if they’re a collection of fluffy, nonessential, nice little extras that we can squeeze in after the real work is done. We can't. (Unless, of course, you’ve solved the space-time continuum itself, and if you have, please call me!)

In fact, this relational work doesn't sit alongside leadership. It is the leadership work.

THE PROBLEM WITH THE WORD “SOFT”

The word soft also suggests ease, or something that comes naturally, or implies that if this stuff feels difficult, you must be overthinking it.

That framing does real damage, because the skills required to lead people well are anything but easy. Not because the behaviours themselves require some elusive talent or mysterious art, but because of what they demand in the moment: the ongoing cognitive load, the emotional containment, the internal strain of holding competing expectations while still being watched, interpreted, and responded to in real time.

Some people have strong relational instincts; others don’t. Either way, the work of leadership still requires intention, experimentation, practice, and being able to apply it deliberately, especially when the pressure is on. It takes awareness, repetition, feedback, and a willingness to stay uncomfortable long enough to grow new muscle. If anything, these are strength skills, and while some organisations do track the relational side of leadership behaviours well, many still struggle to name, measure, and invest in them with the same rigour as technical performance. Think of this gap as an opportunity, not an excuse.

WHEN THE ROLE TURNS MORE HUMAN, AND HEAVIER

I hear versions of this in coaching sessions all the time: “I honestly thought this job would be about bigger decisions and clearer priorities. I didn’t realize how much of my day would be taken up by managing emotions, including my own.”

What they’re naming isn’t a gap in competence; it’s a gap in their approach to leadership. As scope increases, complexity follows, and decisions ripple farther. Conversations carry more weight. People pay attention not just to what you decide, but to how you show up while deciding it. The work shifts from doing the job yourself to creating the conditions for other people to do their best work.

GOING SOFT ON THE HARD STUFF IS COSTLY

Let me be very clear here: finding this side of leadership hard doesn’t make someone a weak leader. But avoiding it does.

Leaders who wave off relational work as “that people stuff,” or treat emotional regulation as secondary, are putting themselves and their teams at risk.

Minimizing this work comes at a real cost. Decades of research from organisations like Gallup consistently show that poor management and low trust drive disengagement, burnout, and turnover, all of which carry measurable performance and financial consequences. When leaders avoid or downgrade this part of the role, tension lingers longer, decisions slow down, and issues that could have been addressed early become far more expensive to fix later.

This is where the phrase soft leaders actually belongs, not as a moral judgment, but as a description of what happens when leaders neglect the hardest muscles to build. When authority, intellect, or expertise do all the heavy lifting and the human side stays underdeveloped, trust erodes, performance plateaus, top talent leaves, and the leader’s credibility is damaged. Strong leadership isn’t about being nice. It’s about being able to stay present, steady, and clear when things get messy, which they inevitably do.

Doing this work well means growing your ability to sit in discomfort without rushing to fix. It means giving feedback with clarity and compassion and without shaming. And it means noticing when a relationship needs attention and addressing it before it hardens into something that will need repairs down the road.

The leaders I've seen who do this well invest in developing their people not because it feels warm and fuzzy, but because it works. They understand that performance follows trust, and trust follows consistent, regulated leadership behaviour. There’s nothing soft about that. It’s disciplined, demanding work.

THE RELIEF MANY LEADERS NEED TO HEAR

If you find this relational side of leadership exhausting, demanding, or harder than you expected, nothing has gone wrong. You’re not deficient, and you’re not failing some invisible leadership test. You’ve simply uncovered muscles that this role now requires you to build.

What you do with that discovery can vary. Some lean into the work and start building those muscles deliberately. Some minimize its importance because it feels uncomfortable or inefficient, or they don't know where to start. Others resist it outright, often because it asks for capacities that feel foreign to their innate wiring. Each response says something important about how a leader understands the role, and what they believe leadership is actually for.

Although we're seeing some improvements in corporate leadership training, the fact is that most leaders were never trained on how to grow and use their relational leadership EQ superpowers. Leadership development still tends to prioritize strategy, execution, and frameworks, while expecting leaders to learn the relational work on the fly, often while feeling exposed and underprepared.

Naming this matters. It helps you shift from interpreting the struggle as a personal weakness to simply treating it as your next leadership skill set that deserves intentional investment.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Over the next week, run a simple self-observation experiment. No fixing. No improving. Just noticing.

STEP 1: TRACK WHERE THE ENERGY GOES

At the end of each day, jot down one or two moments where the people-facing demands of the role required real effort. This might be a conversation you delayed, a meeting that drained you more than expected, or a moment where you had to regulate yourself before responding.

STEP 2: NOTICE YOUR DEFAULT MOVE

For each moment you capture, note what you did next. Did you lean in, smooth it over, push it aside, delegate it, or tell yourself it could wait? There’s no right answer here. You’re simply building awareness of your default response.

STEP 3: NAME WHAT WAS AT STAKE

Ask yourself what really mattered in that moment. Trust? Clarity? Alignment? Psychological safety? Future performance? This step helps separate discomfort from consequence.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS (JOURNAL AFTER THE WEEK)

Once you’ve observed several moments, take 15–20 minutes to reflect in writing:

• Which situations consistently required the most self-regulation or emotional effort?

• When I avoided, minimized, or rushed through the relational work, what did those choices cost me, the team, or the work in the short term?

• What do my default responses to relational work suggest about how I currently define leadership?

• What strength am I being asked to build next as a leader?

This isn’t about judging yourself. It’s about making the invisible work of leadership visible, so you can choose how deliberately you want to engage with it going forward.

If you’d like support developing this side of your leadership, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

WHAT'S YOUR 2026 WORD OF THE YEAR? Look Back to Leap Forward

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Another year-end, another full calendar, and a to-do list that somehow multiplied overnight. Between closing out projects, prepping for 2026 strategy sessions, and pretending you still enjoy Mariah Carey in November, it’s easy to barrel into the new year without pausing to think about what this one actually meant.

Reflection isn’t a luxury. It’s a leadership practice that sharpens awareness, strengthens perspective, and gives shape to what comes next. A proper year-end review connects the dots between what happened, why it mattered, and how you want to grow from it.

In my work with senior leaders, I’ve noticed a pattern: the most grounded, effective leaders are the ones who create space to look back before they leap forward. They don’t just plan the next year; they design it, informed by what they’ve learned.

So before the year fully slips away, take a breath, clear a bit of space, and use these three steps to bring focus, insight, and intention to the year ahead, with this updated version of one of last year’s most-read articles.

STEP 1: REFLECT ON YOUR YEAR

Set the stage for deep reflection: Find a quiet space where you won’t be interrupted. Bring something to capture your thoughts: a journal, tablet, or voice recorder. Give yourself at least an hour. No multitasking.

Think of your year as a chapter in your leadership story. In this first step, reflect on the themes that defined it, the standout moments, and what this chapter reveals about the way you lead.

Now, broaden your reflection by answering the questions in each of these four lenses:

1. What worked? Where did you feel most in alignment, energized, creative, effective, or proud? What conditions made that possible? A senior VP client once discovered that her best results came not from working harder, but from delegating smarter. Her success story inspired a new talent-development framework for her division.

2. What didn’t? This isn’t about blame; it’s about pattern recognition. What created friction? Which choices drained you or your team? Another client noticed that every January, he overloaded himself with projects that didn’t advance his long-term goals. His takeaway: “If it isn’t essential to my strategy, it’s a no.”

3. What surprised you? Growth often hides in the unexpected. What moments tested or stretched you? What strengths surfaced under pressure that you hadn’t recognized before? One of my clients told me she was surprised by how well her team handled a crisis while she was away on vacation. It revealed the depth of trust she’d built and helped her see she didn’t need to control every detail for things to run smoothly.

4. What will you leave behind? Progress requires subtraction as much as addition. What beliefs, habits, or commitments no longer serve you? What is ready to be retired so something better can take its place? A few years ago, I realized I was hanging on to an old assumption that productivity equaled value. Letting go of that mindset opened the door to more creative, higher-impact work and helped me redefine what progress really looks like.

STEP 2: CHOOSE YOUR WORD OF THE YEAR

After sifting through your reflections, distill what matters most into a single word: your North Star for the year ahead.

This word isn’t a goal. It’s a compass that anchors your decisions, priorities, and mindset when life gets noisy.

How to find it: Notice recurring themes in your reflection. Ask what feeling, value, or intention you want to embody next year. Pick a word that feels alive, not trendy but meaningful.

For one CFO client, balancing an intense workload with parenting, the word was Presence. It reminded her to show up fully wherever she was, whether in the boardroom or at the dinner table. Another client leading a manufacturing firm chose Innovate, inspired by a bold pilot that exceeded expectations and revealed the creative depth of his team.

Once you’ve chosen your word, make it visible. Write it on the first page of your planner, set it as your phone wallpaper, or put it somewhere you’ll see every day.

Need inspiration? Here’s a curated list of words leaders often choose, each carrying its own focus and significance:

Abundance: seeing opportunity rather than scarcity. Alignment: bringing goals, actions, and values into harmony. Authenticity: leading as your truest self. Balance: finding your rhythm between work and life. Bravery: taking intelligent risks and making bold calls. Clarity: communicating and deciding with precision. Collaboration: creating shared success instead of silos. Compassion: leading with humanity and understanding. Confidence: backing your judgment and your voice. Connection: building trust and relationships that matter. Creativity: thinking differently and experimenting often. Curiosity: staying open, asking questions, and learning relentlessly. Discipline: doing what matters even when it’s hard. Focus: protecting your attention from distraction. Freedom: simplifying commitments to create more space. Generosity: giving time, knowledge, or mentorship freely. Gratitude: finding joy and recognition in everyday wins. Growth: stretching beyond comfort zones. Impact: contributing something meaningful and lasting. Integrity: doing what’s right, not what’s easy. Joy: rediscovering lightness and energy in your work. Learning: staying a student of your own leadership. Presence: being fully engaged in every conversation. Resilience: staying steady through turbulence. Simplicity: cutting through clutter to what truly matters. Trust: building confidence in yourself and others. Vision: leading toward something bigger than today.

STEP 3: TURN INSIGHT INTO ACTION

Reflection without movement is just rumination. Here’s how to turn insight into traction:

1. Turn lessons into systems. If you noticed overcommitment, build a “decision filter.” One of my clients now asks herself before saying yes: Will this move me closer to or further from my vision?

2. Embed your word into habits. If your word is Balance, maybe it means no emails after 8 p.m. or saying yes only to projects that energize, not deplete. Whatever your word, find a way to live it through daily choices.

3. Share it. Accountability creates traction. Share your word with a colleague, coach, or your team. I once worked with a leader who revealed her word, Transparency, to her staff and invited them to hold her to it. That act alone shifted her team’s communication culture.

WHY THIS MATTERS

Leadership isn’t only about achieving outcomes. It’s also about evolving. A year-end review helps you see the through-lines in your growth: the moments when your instincts were right, when you adapted, and when you learned something worth carrying forward.

When you understand where you’ve been, you lead yourself and others with greater clarity and conviction.

Before the December noise takes over, take that pause. Reflect. Choose your next chapter with intention.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Book a one-hour meeting with yourself. Use the reflection questions above, choose your Word of the Year, and then identify one concrete shift you’ll make in January that aligns with it. Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

And to all of you who’ve been reading my articles this year: thank you for being part of this growing community of leaders who reflect deeply, speak honestly, and stay courageous in their commitment to evolving with integrity. Thank you for your continued engagement, inspiration, and thoughtful messages that keep these conversations alive. Wishing you a peaceful holiday season, time to recharge, and a New Year filled with clarity, connection, and courage.