Many of us have issues saying “no.” It’s a funny hangup when you think about it. But we all bring our baggage when it comes to using the word. I’m a people pleaser by nature, so telling someone “no” puts me in the uncomfortable position of being the seed of disappointment for someone.
In a work context, it’s essential to recognize that “no” is merciful, specifically the explicit “no.” There are two types of no, the eventual and the explicit. The explicit “no” is the one we’re all familiar with.
“Can you run Friday’s meeting?”
“No. I can’t.”
That’s the explicit “no” that most of us dread using. Then there’s the eventual “no.”
“Can your team develop that feature?”
“Sure. I’ll add it to the backlog, and we’ll prioritize it when we can.”
That one is the eventual “no.” It relieves you of the social burden of disappointing someone but also conveys a false hope for people who can’t read between the lines. And that’s where things become cruel.
With an explicit “no,” people will initially feel some discomfort. It’s only natural to feel that way. However, everyone eventually gets over it and can begin planning with this new reality in mind. The eventual “no” robs the requester of any agency to make alternative plans. You’ve committed, however soft, to deliver eventually. The backlog seems like an appropriate place for these requests; it becomes apparent when something isn’t going to be done. If you haven’t prioritized it in 4 weeks, chances are you won’t prioritize it in 4 months or 4 quarters. Meanwhile, someone is sitting on the other end of that ticket, not taking action on alternative options because of the false hope you’ve given them. Once you both face reality, valuable time has been wasted, goodwill burned, and that seed of disappointment you were avoiding has already sprung into a full-grown oak tree.
So what’s the value of the eventual “no?” As mentioned previously, it’s a defense mechanism against short-term pain or discomfort. It’s easier to say no and push off the pain of disappointment until later. We might even convince ourselves that we’re going to fulfill the request. You’d be surprised how easy it is, in the moment, to trick yourself into thinking you have capacity you don’t have.
How do you avoid using the eventual “no?” The easiest trick I’ve found is always to give a date. If you can’t provide a date, you’re probably not serious about meeting the request.
- Can you commit to it in the next two weeks?
- If you can commit to it in the next two weeks, does it require you to push something else out? If so, identify that thing immediately before committing. If you can’t determine what to not do, you can’t commit.
- If you can’t commit in the next two weeks, can you commit within this quarter or next? If you can’t commit to it in that time frame, consider using the explicit no.
Now, no is not forever. Someone can always come back and ask the question again; perhaps the situation has changed. Also, you can always consider going beyond just the next quarter, but in my experience, quarterly planning goes something like this. (Assume it’s the start of the year)
- The first quarter plan is solid
- The second has the bones of a plan but is still a little handwavy.
- The third quarter is 100% handwavy.
- The fourth quarter should be treated with the same certainty as astrology and economic forecasting
If you want to hedge your bets, you can always ask the person to check back in after a certain amount of time has passed. You haven’t committed and are allowed to reconsider the request soon. But you’ll have to run through the whole exercise again to see if you can commit. While I don’t love this option because it’s just an extension of the eventual “no,” it’s sometimes necessary, depending on the request.
Make no mistake: The eventual “no” is a cancer in most organizations. It eventually metastasizes and begins to impact work well beyond the scope of the initial request. Be merciful and use the explicit “no” more often.
