Please Tell Me No

I’ve talked to my kids recently about the importance of who they spend their time with. Specifically, who they consider their friends. I tell them that they are thoughtful, kind, generous friends and that they need to make sure their friends reciprocate that. Your friends should be “bucket fillers”, not “bucket dippers”.

It’s easy to equate filling your bucket with making your days easier. Frictionless. Agreeable. Supportive. Encouraging. Empowering. Tell me yes and make me feel good.

Yet we know we don’t get better from hearing yes all the time. We need people in our corner that will challenge us. Call us on our BS. Tell us the truth, whether we like it or not.

Ever see those contestants on American Idol who clearly didn’t have that person telling them no? Or heard the stories of the athlete or celebrity who gets real rich, real fast, only to lose it all a few years later because they had a bunch of people telling them what they want to hear instead of what they need to hear? Maybe you’ve encountered a parent or two who has trouble telling their kid no. They’re not doing them any favors.

So if we know that “yes men” don’t make us better, why are there so many of them? Why don’t we properly value the friend, colleague, or coach that shoots us straight? The ones that tells us no.

“I don’t think you’re cut out for a management role. Leading people isn’t your strength. Why don’t we lean into your project management skills instead?

“Trying to play Division I isn’t the right path for you. Maybe we should consider JUCO, or explore other ways to stay involved in the game?”

How do we feel after hearing the messages above? Probably not great, even if it’s the truth and what we need to hear. We may even hold it against the speaker, whether we mean to or not. We like to feel good about ourselves. We want to be surrounded by supporters, not detractors. So we take the path of least resistance and stay comfortable. Whisper sweet nothings in my ear and tell me yes.

Granted, delivery matters. So does intent. You can’t run around willy-nilly bluntly telling people harsh truths and expect to be well received. But if the person telling us these truths is doing it from a place of concern, shouldn’t we be thanking them instead of bristling at it and looking elsewhere for affirmation?

Some people are incentivized to tell you want you want to hear. Some downright prey on this need for affirmation. There are plenty of “experts" out in the amateur baseball world, for example, who will happily take your kid on as a paying customer by dangling the carrot of a college scholarship or getting drafted. How many of those gurus do you think would turn down your money up front and tell you the truth—that your kid just isn’t talented enough to play at that level?

Self-awareness is a dwindling commodity. People don’t want to hear the truth. They want to hear their version of the truth. But at the end of the day, most of us are forced to live in actual reality, not our sanitized version of it. Even the most self-aware of us have blind spots. Those are, by definition, things we can’t see or fully understand on our own. We need someone to point them out to us before we find out the hard way. So do yourself a favor: audit your inner circle. Your trusted advisors and closest friends. How many of them will tell you the truth, even if it’s uncomfortable? How many are looking out for your well-being, regardless of how it impacts them? If you don’t have any, go find one. If you can’t find one, go hire one. The Truth finds us all eventually. Better to be prepared for it.

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Paul Goldschmidt, Bias, & Betting on People