You can see what others can’t. The strategy that won’t work. The approach that’s doomed to fail. The blind spot that’s creating problems. The difficult truth that needs to be faced.
I remember sitting in a meeting where a colleague was presenting a project plan that I knew would fail. I could see the fundamental flaw in his approach: a dependency on a system that was already overloaded and couldn’t handle the additional requests. He was excited, the team was nodding along, but I could see the train wreck coming.
So I spoke up. “This won’t work,” I said. “The backend can’t handle this volume.”
The room went quiet. His face fell. The energy shifted from enthusiasm to defensiveness. The project went ahead.
I was right though. Two weeks later, the project crashed exactly as I had predicted. But I had destroyed his confidence, undermined his credibility in front of the team, and made him reluctant to bring future ideas forward.
I had clarity. But I’d delivered it like a sledgehammer instead of a gift.
Here’s what I’ve learned: clarity is valuable. It can save time, prevent mistakes, and improve outcomes. But how you deliver that clarity determines whether it helps or hurts, whether it gets received or rejected, whether it builds relationships or destroys them.
Clarity is a gift. But like any gift, how you give it matters as much as what you’re giving.
The more difficult the truth, the more carefully it needs to be delivered. And the goal isn’t just to be right, it’s to be helpful. Being helpful requires delivering your clarity in ways that allow others to receive it, process it, and act on it.