Welcome to Frank Takeaways. I'm Frank, writing the notes worth keeping from decades at companies like Slack, Etsy, and Google. I run a coaching practice dedicated to guiding leaders through the tricky stuff of building products and high-performing teams.
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I had the dream again last night. I’m standing in front of a panel of three people with notepads. The lighting is fluorescent and unforgiving. They’re asking me questions about a project I shipped six months ago, and I’m answering them, one by one, trying to prove I thought it through. Why did you prioritize that feature? What about this edge case? Did you consider the alternative approach? My answers sound reasonable in my head, but when they come out of my mouth, they feel thin. I can see it in their faces — I’m not convincing them. I wake up with my heart racing, sheets twisted, that familiar tightness in my chest.
Here’s the thing: I’ve never defended an academic thesis. I don’t have a PhD. I’ve never stood in front of a dissertation committee. But I know that room. I’ve been in a version of it dozens of times — performance reviews, design critiques, postmortems on projects that didn’t land the way we hoped. And I show up the same way every time: shoulders tight, ready to defend. Ready to prove I knew what I was talking about, that I made the right calls, that I’m good at this.
But here’s what I understand now: workplace feedback isn’t a defense. It’s not proof you thought hard enough or chose the “right” path. It’s simpler — and scarier: a readout of impact. How your behavior landed on someone else. That’s it. You don’t have to defend it or agree with it. You decide what, if anything, to do next.
The way out isn’t to accept all feedback or reject all feedback. It’s to stop defending and start choosing.
What We’re Really Protecting
A client I coach — let’s call her Collette — recently told me about a product review that shook her. She’s a talented product leader, and she’d been presenting her roadmap for the next quarter. The feedback was gentle but direct: “This feels like a lot of competing priorities. I’m not sure what we’re actually committing to.” Instead of asking what specifically felt unclear, Collette spent fifteen minutes walking through her research, her stakeholder conversations, her trade-off analysis. She explained decisions twice, added context no one asked for, and ended, a little breathless: “So that’s why I prioritized it this way.”
When she described what happened next — the quiet room, the awkward glances — she said, “I know I did it again. I know I went into defense mode. But in the moment, I couldn’t stop myself.”
I see this constantly in my coaching practice. When someone tells you your behavior had an impact, something primal kicks in. Your throat constricts. Your jaw clenches. You feel exposed, like you’re standing in that fluorescent-lit room again. The feedback triggers an old wound — the fear that maybe you’re not as competent as you appear, that maybe you’re about to be found out.
So you protect what feels most vulnerable: your image as someone who knows what they’re doing. You explain your reasoning because if the reasoning is sound, then you can’t be wrong. If you can’t be wrong, then you’re safe.
Collette wasn’t protecting her roadmap. She was protecting her identity as a careful thinker. This is the core confusion: we treat feedback about impact as judgment about our reasoning. Someone says “this confused me,” and we hear “you’re bad at explaining things.” Someone says “this felt harsh,” and we hear “you’re not a good manager.” But that’s not what they’re saying at all. They’re giving you data about what happened when your behavior met their experience.
What I’ve learned from coaching is that the most defensive responses come from people who are actually quite good at their jobs. It’s not incompetence that makes us defensive — it’s the gap between how hard we’re trying and how we’re landing.
I’ve seen talented leaders plateau because they couldn’t move past this. They stopped getting honest feedback. Their teams learned to manage up instead of speaking up. They lost access to the information they needed most to grow. The defense that was supposed to protect their reputation ended up limiting their impact.
The vulnerability in receiving feedback is real. It means sitting with the possibility that your impact doesn’t match your intent. It means accepting that someone else’s experience is valid even if it doesn’t align with your reasoning. It means acknowledging that competence isn’t just about making good decisions — it’s about creating good outcomes.
But here’s what’s paradoxical: the more you defend against this vulnerability, the more vulnerable you actually become. Because everyone can see the defense. Everyone can feel the resistance. And resistance doesn’t inspire confidence — it erodes it.
The Power of Choice
Once you stop defending, something remarkable happens: you realize you have options. Real options. Not the false choice between “accept all feedback” and “defend everything,” but actual strategic choices about how to respond.
Option 1: “That’s useful information. I want to change that.” This is the response when the feedback aligns with your values and goals. You’re not admitting failure — you’re acknowledging impact and choosing to adjust. “I hear that my direct communication style is coming across as dismissive. I don’t want people to feel dismissed, so I’m going to work on that.”
Option 2: “I hear that it landed that way. I’m going to keep doing it anyway because [reasons].” This is the response when you understand the impact but decide the trade-offs are worth it. “I know my focus on deadlines creates some pressure, but given our current situation, I think that’s the right trade-off for now.” You’re not dismissing their experience — you’re making a conscious choice based on competing priorities.
Option 3: “I need to understand more. Can you help me see what you saw?” This is the response when you want to learn more before deciding. “You mentioned that the meeting felt chaotic. Can you walk me through what specifically felt disorganized? I want to understand what you experienced so I can figure out what to do about it.”
Option 4: “I hear you, and I’m noticing we see this differently.” Sometimes feedback reveals more about the feedback-giver than about you. Maybe they’re under unusual stress, maybe they have a blind spot, maybe they’re not the right person to evaluate this particular area. That’s still useful information. You can acknowledge their experience without changing your behavior: “I hear that landed differently for you than it did for others. That’s helpful context.”
None of these require you to be wrong. They just require you to take the information seriously. They acknowledge that impact matters, even when intent was good. They demonstrate the kind of leadership maturity that actually builds trust: the ability to hear hard things without getting defensive.
Choosing beats defending. It shifts you from needing to be right to needing to be effective. It moves the conversation from your reasoning to their experience. It makes the feedback about the work, not about your worth.
How to Actually Do This
When you feel the defense rising, name it — even just to yourself. “I’m feeling defensive right now. That’s interesting.” Naming the emotion creates space between you and the reaction. It gives you a moment to choose your response rather than just reacting.
Try this phrase: “Let me make sure I understand what you experienced.” Say it before explaining anything. Before adding context. Before sharing your reasoning. Just make sure you understand their experience first. This does two things: it shows you’re taking their feedback seriously, and it gives you information about what actually happened from their perspective.
Remember that impact and intent are different things. Intent is your aim; impact is their experience. You can honor someone’s experience without agreeing that your intent was wrong. “I didn’t intend for that to feel dismissive, and I understand that it did. That helps me see how I can be more effective.”
Sometimes feedback is poorly delivered, feels unfair, or misses the mark. You still don’t have to defend — but you may need to clarify. That’s the line between defensive and discerning. Defensive sounds like: “That’s not true because...” Discerning sounds like: “Help me understand how you see this differently because...”
If a comment crosses a line, set a boundary: “I’m open to feedback on the work. I’m not okay with personal remarks.”
Practice the phrase “I want to think about that.” It’s your get-out-of-jail-free card for avoiding real-time defensiveness. You don’t have to have a response immediately. You don’t have to fix everything in the moment. You just have to demonstrate that you’re taking it seriously.
The long game here is about building trust. People need to believe you can hear hard things without falling apart or getting combative. They need to see that feedback makes you more effective, not more fragile. That’s how you become the kind of leader people are willing to be honest with — which is the only kind of leader who can actually improve.
Learning to Choose
I still have the dream sometimes. The fluorescent room, the panel, the questions I can’t quite answer well enough. I don’t think it’s going away.
But I’m learning to recognize that feeling in real life — that heat rising in my face, that urge to explain everything. And more often now, I can choose something different.
That’s what becomes possible when you stop defending and start choosing.
The room doesn’t disappear — you just realize you’re not trapped in it.
The questions don’t stop coming — you just stop treating them like attacks.
The feedback doesn’t get easier — you just get better at receiving it.
The best leaders I know aren’t the ones who are never wrong. They’re the ones who can hear they’ve had an impact and decide what to do about it. They understand that effectiveness isn’t about perfect reasoning — it’s about consistent results and reliable relationships. They know that feedback isn’t a judgment on their competence — it’s information they can use to get better.
The defense is over. The choice is yours.