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Embracing the blank stare

For some, it’s a huge source of frustration.
For others, it’s a gift.

The blank stare on people’s faces when you tell them about your great idea but they just don’t get it.

So, how is that a gift?

It’s information. It tells you that either your idea or your explanation needs improvement. Not only that. The blank stare tells you exactly where.

Pay attention to when exactly the blank stare occurs and you know where you need to improve your idea or your story.

Don’t give up until the blank stare is resolved.

But wait, there’s one exception: Your idea might not be for everyone.

Don’t waste time on optimizing your story for those who will never get it. Own their blank stare and make it even stronger for the people who you’re making it for.

“Can’t they just open their eyes?”

The Sales Director thought the COO was a coward while the COO thought the Sales Director was risking the business.

It’s a common situation when opinions clash on an issue we deeply care about. The instinct when facing such a conflict is to ask: “What’s wrong with them? Can’t they just open their eyes?”

But this instinct leads you down a path of blame and ultimately, into a deadlock because, of course, they are thinking the same about you.

Anyway, it makes (kind of) sense, considering that these are all smart people. They care deeply, they have thought it through and they have very good reasons for their take.

And yet, the same is true for the other side.

Actually, quite likely there are excellent reasons on either side of the argument.

That’s why, in situations like these, I suggest a different perspective: The choices you make going out conversations like these help a team define who they want to be.

Given that there’s no clear right and wrong answer, it’s an opportunity to define what kind of right is right for us. What kind of wrong are we not willing to take.

So, it’s not about who is right (because, in a way, both likely are). It’s about who you want to be and which path is right for us heading into the future.

The easy way out might be to sidestep these issues, hoping they’ll resolve themselves. But more often than not, this leads to even deeper fissures down the road.

If you’re the leader, it’s way more important to face these conflicts straight on, as these conflicts are precisely the kind of conversations that lead you and your team to your true core and fill your journey with meaning.

Taking a Talk

It’s called “giving a talk” but let’s face it:

Many speakers show up to take

… our time
… our attention
… our money
… our vote
… our applause
… our approval

Which leads to many of the awkward situations we encounter in speeches and presentations:

The presenter who brags about their accolades while we couldn’t care less and wonder when they will start getting to the point.

The speaker who puts the spotlight on themselves while we’re left wondering what their story actually means for us.

The salesman who praises their offer while we wonder if they will ever bother to ask a question about what we actually need.

The irony, of course, is that it’s the other way around:
The more they give, the more we might be willing to give in return.

A real game changer

“Looking from my audience’s perspective was a real game changer. Why did no-one teach us that before?”

That was the feedback I’ve received a couple of weeks after a recent workshop.

I think it’s an excellent question. How is that still a game-changer?

The others don’t get it

If your audience didn’t get it, they didn’t get it.
That’s rule no. 1.

There really is no use in arguing that you meant it slightly differently or that you clearly spelled it out on page 7. They didn’t get it.

The obvious solution: Find better words.

But there’s a second rule: You get to choose your audience.

You don’t have to please everyone. You might not need this particular part of your audience to get it.

The clearer you are on the people you want to reach, the clearer you can make your message for them. It’s ok that the others don’t get it.

Echoes of Silence

In the dim glow of his office, Patrick stared at the latest report. The numbers were as lifeless as the cold, blue light that cast long shadows across his desk. His team had followed his lead, executed every command with precision—a symphony of perfect movements, yet the music had failed to enchant the markets they aimed to captivate.

He remembered the meetings, his voice clear and confident, the nods around the table, the scribbles of agreement in every notepad. They had seemed like a well-oiled machine, gears aligned, oiled by his words. But machines don’t dream, and numbers, it seemed, didn’t bow to well-crafted speeches.

The office was silent now, but for Patrick, it was a cacophony of ‘what-ifs.’ He could almost hear the ideas that he had not heard back then, the suggestions he had not sought, the potential he had not fostered. He had built a fortress of strategy around them, but in doing so, he had unwittingly erected walls that kept out innovation.

His team’s eyes, once bright with the sheen of shared purpose, now mirrored his own disillusionment. They had trusted him, and he had been so sure of the path that he had dismissed the value of their compasses. Now, they were all lost together in the success that never came.

The chair groaned as he leaned back, the sound a stark reminder of the silence that comes with unmet expectations. The weight of unrealized potential pressed down on him, a tangible force in the quiet of the office. He had been a maestro of communication, but one of monologue, not of dialogue. His team had not been collaborators in their destiny; they had been passengers, and he had driven them into a cul-de-sac of failure.

Patrick’s gaze fell upon a single, forgotten suggestion box in the corner, its slot unburdened by the touch of ideas. It was an artifact of his ‘open-door’ policy, a relic of good intentions that now seemed as hollow as the victory they chased.

Tomorrow, he would need to face them all—the team whose belief he had won, but not their insight. He would need to find the words, not to direct but to invite. The journey ahead would be different. It had to be. Because the pain of a lesson learned too late was a companion he could no longer bear.

The trap of good communication

Before you can make the leap from good to great communication, you’ll need to survive the “trap of good communication”.

The “trap of good communication” lurks where a leader is highly skilled at persuading and motivating their team to follow a certain direction or execute a plan. The trap lies in the leader’s ability to persuade so effectively that it overshadows the team’s opportunity to offer input, raise concerns, or suggest alternatives. The team’s voices become silent, not because they have nothing to say, but because the leader’s compelling communication doesn’t leave space for dialogue or dissent.

The team may carry out tasks efficiently and without question, but this dynamic can stifle innovation and critical thinking. The leader, while good at getting the team to “get it,” may miss out on the team’s collective intelligence and the creative problem-solving that arises from open, two-way communication.

It basically drowns the team’s creativity in the leader’s eloquence.

The trap, therefore, is in the illusion of unanimity and the false sense of security that comes from smooth execution, which may ultimately lead to suboptimal results or failure to identify and correct course when necessary.

Great speakers don’t persuade, but resonate. They listen not just out of politeness, but because they genuinely care for what others have to say. They don’t silence the team, but give them a voice.

Your differentiator

Being different is a by-product, not a goal.

When you treat it as the goal, “different” can easily become a trap. It deceives you to chase superficial changes like choosing quirky colors, strange slogans, or odd advertising gimmicks in hopes of being unique. Yet, these surface-level tweaks are often meaningless if they don’t tie back to something real and valuable for the customer.

This kind of different wants you to believe that by standing out in a crowd, you’ll capture attention and thrive. And you might. But there’s no guarantee that this attention will be in your favor.

The real magic happens when a business shifts its focus from “different” to “meaningful”.

When you zero in on a specific problem faced by a specific group of people and craft a solution specifically tailored to them, you’ll almost inevitably stand out for them. This customer-centric approach makes a world of difference. When no-one else provides a solution that fits so well for them, you’re obviously different. More importantly, by diving into the lives of the customers, understanding their needs, and crafting solutions that ease their pains, a business becomes a valuable asset to them. It’s about forming a connection that’s deeper than a flashy logo or a catchy tune.

Make no mistake, you might still end up using quirky colors or edgy slogans, packaging, and marketing.

But this time, it’s not just about standing out; it’s about standing out for the right reasons.

Can’t quite put my finger on it

Recently, in the mind of some random person: “It’s… odd. I just had two meetings, back to back, and they’ve left me feeling so different, and I’m not quite sure why. The first one had it all – flashy presentation, persuasive arguments, all the right words. It was like a well-rehearsed play, everything in its perfect place. I felt… well, I felt impressed.

“But then there was the second one. It wasn’t as… shiny? We chatted, we laughed. They seemed genuinely curious about what I had to say, which was a pleasant surprise. There wasn’t this rush to get me to agree or nod my head, just this… space. A space for thoughts, feelings… connection?

“I don’t know how to put it. With the first, I felt like I was on a fast-moving train, being shown the sights outside the window. But with the second, it was like a leisurely walk in a park, noticing things together. It’s strange, isn’t it? Both paths led to the same destination, but one journey just felt… richer? Warmer? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something about that second meeting that lingers with me.”

The impressive performance in the first meeting can be bought with time and money. Hire a good agency, practice, and you’re there.

The second meeting requires empathy and genuine interest, things that can’t be bought.

Spread the Word

Dr. Michael Gerharz

Dr. Michael Gerharz