When You Realize People Stopped Telling You Things

You know that sinking feeling when a problem blindsides you.

The client who was apparently frustrated for weeks, but you're just hearing about it now. The process that everyone knew was broken, but somehow it never made it to your attention. The deadline that three different people thought was impossible, but you found out during the post-mortem.

Your first thought was probably: "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

But then you think back to recent conversations.

Was there a moment when someone tried to bring up concerns and you... moved on quickly? Changed the subject to solutions? Focused on the positive aspects instead?

You weren't trying to ignore problems. You were trying to stay solution-focused and optimistic.

A painful lesson from my early career:

During my time working on television variety shows, I unknowingly developed selective hearing. When arrangers would bring me good news about a session or positive feedback from musicians, I'd light up, ask follow-up questions, show genuine engagement.

But when they mentioned problems—tight deadlines, difficult music, budget constraints—I'd get solution-focused immediately. "Okay, but how do we fix it?" I thought I was being positive and proactive.

What I didn't realize was that I was training people to stop bringing me problems until they became crises.

You remember your own experience with selective-hearing leaders.

That boss who would light up when you shared wins but seem to deflate when you mentioned concerns. Who would cut you off mid-sentence when describing problems to ask, "Okay, but what's your solution?"

Remember how you learned to soften your language? How you'd sandwich problems between positives? How you eventually stopped mentioning some issues altogether because they never seemed to land?

Now think about your own reactions.

When someone shares good news, do you lean forward? Ask follow-up questions? Show genuine interest and energy?

When someone mentions something that's not working, do you maintain that same level of engagement? Or do you feel your energy shift slightly? Do your responses get shorter or more solution-focused?

The wake-up call:

Later in my career, when I was working on "Payback" with a large team, I realized that several major production issues had been brewing for weeks without reaching me. When I asked why, one of the team members said, "We tried to tell you, but you always seemed to want to move past the problems to the solutions."

That's when I understood: my "positive" leadership style was actually creating an information filter that hurt everyone.

You've been on both sides of the translation game.

You know how it feels to encode concerns so they sound more palatable:

• "Challenging timeline" instead of "impossible deadline"
• "Resource constraint" instead of "we're overwhelmed"
• "Learning opportunity" instead of "we failed"
• "Could use some support" instead of "this is a disaster"

And you've probably heard your team use similar language, not realizing they were protecting you from the full reality.

You remember leaders who created safety for uncomfortable truths.

The ones who would thank you for bringing up problems. Who asked follow-up questions about concerns with the same energy they gave to successes. Who made you feel like you were helping by identifying issues early.

You felt comfortable telling them everything, didn't you? Even the messy, complicated stuff.

The frequency shift:

When I started working with successful directors on film scores, they had a completely different approach. They'd actually get MORE engaged when people brought up problems. "Tell me everything that could go wrong," they'd say. "I'd rather know now than be surprised later."

Working with them, I learned that the people who bring you bad news early are often the ones trying to save you from worse news later.

That moment when you realized people had stopped telling you things.

Maybe during a crisis when you discovered that multiple people had seen warning signs. Or when you found out about a problem through someone outside your immediate circle. Or when someone finally said, "We've been trying to tell you this for weeks."

You weren't deliberately ignoring them. But somewhere along the way, you'd accidentally trained them to filter their communication.

The conscious practice:

Now, whether I'm leading a project or participating as a team member, I make it a point to signal that I want the hard truths. I ask questions like: "What should I be worried about that I'm not?" and "What problems are you seeing that we haven't talked about?"

This week, notice your listening patterns:

• How does your body language change when hearing good vs. concerning news?
• Do you ask more follow-up questions about successes or problems?
• Which topics do you pursue and which do you move past quickly?
• When did someone last bring you bad news before it became a crisis?

You already know what full-fidelity listening feels like.

You've experienced people who made you feel heard regardless of what you were sharing. Who seemed genuinely interested in understanding reality, not just receiving positive updates.

You felt more valuable and more trusted in those relationships.

Whether you're leading or following, you can create that same experience for others.

The question is: do you want to hear what people think you want to hear, or what you actually need to know?