The version of you that keeps making work harder than it needs to
There’s a pattern hiding in plain sight and only you can fix it
Over ten years ago, I had a manager we’ll call Dave for the purpose of discussion. Dave would regularly say to you, “I’m open to feedback.” He’d say it sincerely and he'd add it at the end of most meetings, almost matter-of-fact, like someone who was genuinely keen to hear your ideas, or have you build upon his thoughts. Dave also accepted your feedback, allowing you to suggest an idea, even challenge a decision or offer an alternative viewpoint, rarely shutting you down.
What took me some time to understand was what came next...
If the feedback happened to go along with where Dave was heading, then great, it fell on open ears and an equally open mind. If it didn’t, something would shift, ever so subtly. He’d listen, really listen. And then he'd begin walking you through why he was thinking that way. He'd give more context, a better explanation. By the time he was done, you understood and, routinely, you agreed. If you didn't agree, you at least had enough information to move past it.
When you spoke with Dave you felt heard, but nothing material actually changed.
Over time, people adjusted, not dramatically, but in small, invisible ways. They stopped pushing as hard, or filtered what they said, and they started offering feedback that was easier to receive. So after a while all Dave heard, almost always, was agreement dressed up as feedback.
I didn't think much of it back then, I actually thought I was working for one of the most open and approachable leaders around. But I do reflect on it considerably now, mostly because it's a pattern that's far easier to spot in someone else than in yourself.
Here’s the problem. The version of you that’s making work harder is the one you don’t see. It’s the one asking for feedback and assuming that means you’re open to it. A lot of the time, you’re not and all you're looking for is positive reinforcement. And it shows up not in whether you ask, but in how you respond once it arrives.
In this situation, you want to know you're on track, that you should stay the same course. You want to move forward without reopening decisions you've already spent energy on. So when something challenges your thinking or shows a potential to undo what you have already done, you engage with it, but in a way that's mostly about protecting your original position. You explain your reasoning or perhaps add context that somehow wasn't there before, or even go over the constraints. All of that is reasonable on the surface, but it also makes it harder for the feedback to land as it's intended, let alone convince you to make needed changes.
The pattern is this; you ask for input once the work is mostly formed and then respond quickly when something doesn't sit right, tightening your argument rather than sitting with the alternative. You take the parts that fit and conveniently gloss over the rest. Sometimes you ask a few more people until the response feels more comfortable.
None of this looks like resistance, in fact it looks like diligence.
What's happening underneath though is a filtering process, slick and automatic. Feedback that supports your direction moves through and feedback that challenges it gets explained away, softened, or filed somewhere you never return to.
Real feedback creates exposure. It can slow you down, force a rethink, surface something you got wrong and potentially create some rework. That all comes with a cost, especially when you've already put serious time into the outcome. Reinforcement protects you from that cost and while it feels efficient it almost never is. You see, when ideas don't get challenged early, the work carries more weight later. More time gets spent refining something that needs a rethink. The friction doesn't disappear, it just moves further down the line where it's harder to deal with and inevitably creates even more work.
The people around you notice too, they see when feedback leads to something changing and when it gets absorbed without impact. Over time they recalibrate. The sharper observations get held back and eventually what you hear gets pre-filtered for your comfort. That's when work starts feeling heavier than it should.
A better measure than how often you ask for feedback is what happens after the conversation ends. What changed because of what you heard? What did you sit with longer than you wanted to? Where did you actually adjust your thinking Those are harder questions and I confess that I don't always answer them honestly. Like everyone, I can be found traversing the short-term easier route at times.
I think back to Dave sometimes. He genuinely believed he was open to feedback, and in some real sense he was. He listened, engaged and created the conditions for people to speak up. What he didn't do, not consistently, was let any of it change his mind.
It's an easy pattern to repeat because from the inside it feels like you're doing the right thing. You asked, invited constructive feedback and listened, even nodded with empathy and understanding, as people gave it.
But the version of you that makes work harder than it needs to be isn't the one avoiding feedback…
It's the one who's learned to ask for it in a way that keeps everything exactly as it was.
This was a good read, Ash - I'm sure I've been Dave at certain points. The real key mechanism here is our perception. How ACTUALLY open are we - how loosely do we hold our identity and therefore be neutral and willing to take feedback that actually counters our self-view and the opinions we have on our worth/value and our work... Because if we don't stay open, we won't hear the feedback, we'll hear criticism, and that'll encourage us to defend and to grip our point of view more rigidly...
It's one thing to ask for - and then get - feedback, it's another thing entirely to take it onboard, do something with it, and then show up differently as a byproduct. I think that, as a leader, that's of utmost importance, because then teams are modelled a brilliant example. I always reminded my team that I was never 'further ahead' of them, and that I too was imperfect and made mistakes, and always learning and growing as a byproduct. But I do wonder how often I said I was open to feedback, received it, and then carried on the same way anyways.
A useful reminder!
This one sat with me Ash, because I've been Dave!
Not in a dramatic way. In exactly the way you describe. There have been moments where I genuinely believed I was creating space for feedback. I asked, I listened, I nodded. And looking back at those moments, I can see that what I was really doing was waiting to hear that I was on the right track. When the feedback confirmed my direction, it landed. When it didn't, I'd find a way to explain it away or contextualise it until it no longer required me to change anything.
The hardest part of reading this is recognising that it didn't feel like resistance from the inside. It felt like thoroughness.
The question you close with is the right one, not how often you ask, but what actually changed because of what you heard. That's a much more honest measure and one I try to hold myself to, even when the answer is uncomfortable.
Really considered piece. Thank you for writing it.