Outside insight.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it happen. The leader sits at the head of the table, asks for honest feedback, and the room goes quiet. Heads nod, eyes drop, someone cracks a joke to break the tension. The moment passes. The truth stays hidden.
It’s not that people are liars. It’s that honesty costs something when you’re talking to the person who signs your check.
Every room has a power dynamic, and power makes truth expensive. So people filter. They say what feels safe. They offer half-truths dressed up as politeness. And, they walk out of the meeting whispering the real conversation in the hallway.
That’s the part most leaders don’t see.
They think, “My team would tell me.” But, they don’t. Not really. They tell you what they think you can handle. What won’t get them labeled as “difficult” or “negative.” What won’t risk their standing.
The higher you climb, the more curated your world becomes.
Everyone’s kind. Everyone’s positive. Everyone’s performing. It feels like harmony, but it’s hollow.
I’ve seen it across industries and titles.
The leader who thinks she’s transparent but no one dares to contradict her. The founder who believes his team loves his energy, not realizing they dread his Monday morning mood swings. The executive who protects his favorite person on the team while everyone else quietly counts the days until she leaves.
You can feel it when you walk in a room. The tension hums just beneath the surface. People are saying the right things, but not the real things. There’s a difference.
The truth lives elsewhere. In late-night texts, whispered Slack messages, quiet conversations over coffee. It lives in glances during meetings, in pauses before agreement. The team knows what’s broken. They just don’t think it’s safe to say it out loud.
That’s why outside perspective isn’t optional. It’s oxygen.
When I come into a team, I can say what they can’t. I don’t have anything to lose. I’m not part of the politics. I can ask the questions that make everyone shift in their chairs. And, when the truth finally surfaces, it’s usually met with a strange mix of relief and defensiveness.
Because deep deep down, everyone already knew.
I once told a leader, “Your team isn’t scared of you, they’re scared of how you’ll react.” He paused, then smiled. “That’s worse, isn’t it?” Yes. Because, it means they still care enough to want your approval, but they don’t trust it’ll be safe to earn it honestly.
That’s the quiet tax of leadership. You stop getting real feedback right when you need it most. You start believing your own BS. You start mistaking loyalty for health, silence for alignment, and activity for impact. It’s easy to drift when no one’s holding up a mirror.
That’s the role of a good outsider. A coach, a peer, an advisor. Someone who doesn’t need your job and doesn’t want your title. Someone who loves you enough to tell you the truth and stay in the room while you process it.
The leaders who grow the most aren’t the ones with all the answers. Nope. They’re the ones who invite the mirror. Who ask, “What am I not seeing?” and actually mean it. They understand that good intentions don’t equal good leadership. They know self-awareness isn’t a given. It’s a discipline.
I’ve watched great teams transform once truth got permission to exist. Once someone finally said what everyone had been thinking.
The energy in the room shifts. People exhale. Trust starts to rebuild. Not because the problem’s fixed, but because reality’s back on the table.
That’s the magic of feedback. It’s not about criticism, it’s about calibration. It keeps the leader, and the whole system, aligned with what’s actually true.
But, here’s the catch: truth never travels upward on its own. It has to be invited.
And, then, it has to be received without punishment.
When a leader says, “Tell me the truth,” what their team hears is, “Tell me the truth I can handle.” The moment you punish honesty, you teach people to edit it. And, once that happens, you’ll spend the rest of your career leading through fog.
I’ve learned that when someone finally risks telling you something uncomfortable, they’re not testing your authority, they’re testing your maturity. How you respond decides whether that door ever opens again.
The feedback you’ll never hear in the room is the feedback that could change everything.
Because, the truth you avoid today will become the crisis you face tomorrow.
And, the leaders who last, the ones who keep growing, are the ones who go looking for truth before the world forces it on them.
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If you’ve made it this far, here’s my invitation: don’t wait for a crisis to tell you the truth. Go looking for it.
Bring someone in who doesn’t need your approval. Ask them to walk the floor, sit in the meetings, and tell you what they see that you can’t. Pay for perspective, it’s cheaper than the cost of blindness.
And, when the truth shows up, don’t defend it. Don’t explain it away. Breathe. Thank whoever had the courage to say it. Then do something with it.
That’s how leaders grow. That’s how cultures heal.
If you’re ready for that kind of clarity, the kind that cuts through the fog, get an outsider in the room. Call someone like me.
Because the truth you can’t hear yet might just be the one thing that saves your team and transforms your business for years to come.
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Steve Knox | Olathe, KS
\\\ Thanks as always for reading. Forward and share this with someone you know who needs this powerful nudge. Until next week. Be honest. Be you.