You Owe Your Team Bad News Before It's Too Late

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Career · Leadership

By Feras Asakrieh · 4 min read · Issue #46

Read on my website

He looked right at me and said the F word.

Nineteen years with the company, and it was ending in a termination room.

He was angry. And I couldn't fully blame him.

Not because we were wrong to let him go.

Because I was the one who let it get this far.

I sat there and didn't say much. I just kept thinking one thing.

If I had told him the truth a year ago, would we even be in this room?

Fourteen Months

I was in my third year running the department.

He had been there for nineteen.

He ran a team of 25 agents. In meetings, he was the loudest voice in the room. Every week he talked like he was moving mountains.

Then I'd check his work.

Nothing.

Every time I looked, there was nothing behind the talk.

I knew this for almost fourteen months.

Fourteen months.

What I Called Coaching

Here's what I did with all that time.

I asked him questions, hoping he'd hear what I wasn't saying.

I talked in meetings about what great frontline leaders do. I described it in detail. I hoped he'd notice what was missing in himself.

I told myself that was coaching.

It wasn't.

I was hiding.

He was a nineteen year veteran. I was three years in. I didn't have the courage to sit him down and say it plain.

So I hinted. And I waited for him to figure it out on his own.

Hints aren't feedback. They're a way to feel like you did something without risking anything.

The Calls

Every frontline supervisor had one required job. Listen to agent calls. Give real feedback. That's how agents get better.

Then we found out his reviews were fake.

Calls marked as reviewed that he never listened to. Feedback logged that never happened. Most of his calls.

We terminated him.

And here's the part I still sit with.

My silence didn't only cost him.

Twenty five agents showed up every day believing someone was helping them get better.

Nobody was.

I knew something was wrong for fourteen months. And I let it ride.

The Rumor Guy

Years later, I had a frontline leader who was the sharpest I've ever seen. His numbers were better than anyone's. Not close.

But his office had become the rumor spot on the floor. Who said what. Who was doing what.

And I felt the old pull. Wait. Hint. Hope he figures it out.

This time I was scared of something else.

He was my number one guy. If I came at him hard and he took it wrong, I could lose him.

I pulled him in anyway. Right away.

I didn't soften it. I said:

"You are becoming the rumor guy on the floor. If you don't step up your game and stop this silly thing, you're going to stay a manager for the next 20 years."

Then I stopped talking.

Four Years

He became a VP within four years.

His success now is beyond anything I could have imagined for him.

He did the work. But I think about how close I came to staying quiet.

Same Fear

Both times, I was scared.

The first time, I was scared of the conversation. So I avoided it for fourteen months and called it coaching.

The second time, I was scared of losing my best guy. I said it anyway, while there was still time for him to use it.

One man heard the truth from me for the first time in a termination room.

The other heard it early enough to change his whole career.

Silence feels kind. It isn't. It just moves the hard conversation to a worse day.

People deserve bad news while it can still help them.

And when you're the leader, getting it to them is your job. Not theirs.

So here is my question for you this week.

Who on your team is waiting on a conversation you keep putting off?

Reply and tell me. I read every response.

See you next Saturday.

Feras

You Owe Your Team Bad News Before It's Too Late

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