Think about the last time you watched a politician being interviewed and caught yourself talking back to the television. Early in the answer, before anything of substance had been said, you probably heard one of the phrases we’ve all learned to recognise: “Let me be clear”, “Look”, “With the greatest respect” or “Lessons will be learned”. As soon as you heard it, something in you sat back, folded its arms and began listening for what wasn’t being said.
I don’t think that reaction is cynicism. I think it is one of the most reliable instincts we have as an audience, the instinct that tells us when someone is speaking to manage us rather than to talk to us. It is just as alive in a boardroom, a team meeting or a quarterly review as it is on Newsnight.
That is why I believe politicians are, without meaning to be, some of the best public-speaking teachers we have. Day after day, they show us the words that make an audience stop trusting a speaker, and every one of those words has a cousin that shows up in our own meetings, presentations and difficult conversations. Here are eight of them, why they grate, and what to say instead if you want to be believed.
1. “Let me be clear”
Along with its close relatives, “Look”, “Listen” and “Make no mistake”, this is a little flag planted at the start of an answer, claiming control of the conversation. It tells everyone to receive what follows rather than question it, and that is exactly why it gets people’s backs up.
A clear answer never needs announcing. Whenever someone tells me how clear they are about to be, I listen for the part that isn’t.
Instead: just say the clear thing. Drop the introduction and start with the sentence that was going to follow it, which is almost always stronger on its own.
2. “With the greatest respect, I think the real question is…”
You ask a straightforward question, and before they’ve finished their first sentence, the answer has already shifted elsewhere. “With the greatest respect” is usually the signal that the speaker is about to disagree with you, and “I think the real question is…” means your question is about to be swapped for one they find easier to answer. “What I would say is…” and “Let me come back to that” are gentler versions of the same move, and in my experience, the speaker rarely comes back to it.
Whichever words are used, the person who asked is left without an answer and with the uncomfortable feeling that their question wasn’t worth thinking about. Anyone else listening tends to notice too, and from that moment they stop paying attention to what is being said and start listening for what is being avoided.
Instead: answer the question you were asked first, even if the honest answer is one word, and then add whatever context you think matters. If you genuinely disagree with the question, say so and explain why, rather than quietly swapping it for another one.
Many people can’t think on their feet, so don’t leave this to the moment. Before your next presentation, write down the one question you most hope nobody asks, and then write the honest answer to it in a single sentence.
3. “Mistakes were made” and “Lessons will be learned”
Notice who is missing from both sentences. The mistakes simply happened somewhere, without anyone making them, and the lessons will be learned at some point by no one in particular. They sound like accountability while carefully avoiding it, and their office versions are everywhere: “The deadline was missed.” “The ball got dropped.” “It was decided that…”
Instead: put yourself in the sentence. “I got that wrong, and this is what I’m changing.”
That takes courage, and I won’t pretend otherwise. What helps is remembering that the room often already knows, so you aren’t revealing anything; you are simply deciding whether they hear it from you. What I have seen happen, repeatedly, is that the moment a leader stops saying “mistakes were made” and says “I got that wrong”, the mood in the room changes. People stop looking for someone to blame, because someone has just taken responsibility, and the conversation moves on to what happens next.
4. “We are where we are”
Few phrases manage to sound so resigned while saying so little. Everyone in the room already knows where we are, because they are standing in it. They want to know how we got here and what we are going to do about it, and this phrase quietly closes the door on both questions.
Instead: “Here’s how we got here, and here are the choices we have now.” Treat where you are as the starting point for a conversation, not the end of one.
5. “We’re working tirelessly behind the scenes”
Nobody doubts that you are busy. The trouble with “behind the scenes” is that it asks people to trust work they can’t see, and when they are waiting for something that matters to them, hearing how hard everyone is working is cold comfort. “These things take time” has a similar problem because it is usually said by the person who isn’t waiting.
Instead: show them the progress or admit there isn’t any. “This is what’s done, this is what’s stuck and why, and this is when you’ll hear from me next.” Honesty about a delay builds far more trust than a description of effort.
6. “Nothing has changed”
Usually said at the precise moment something very obviously has changed. Changing your mind is one of the most human things a leader can do, and most people will readily forgive it. They find it much harder to forgive being told they didn’t see what they just saw.
Instead: “We’ve changed this, and here is why.” If your plan has moved, your numbers have slipped or your project is late, say so before anyone has to ask.
7. “It’s the right thing to do”
Nobody says “It’s the right thing to do” unless they believe it, and that isn’t the problem. The problem is that it hands the audience your conclusion without any of the thinking that got you there. You may have spent weeks weighing it up, but they haven’t, and being told something is right is not the same as understanding why.
However it is meant, the audience often hears, “I know best, so just take my word for it.” It puts the speaker above the room and closes the conversation before it starts; in my experience, people told what to think rarely feel respected, even when the decision turns out to be good.
Instead: show the people in front of you why it is right, who it helps and what it will cost, and let them reach the conclusion for themselves. They will believe their own conclusion far more than they will ever believe yours.
8. “I’m not going to get into hypotheticals”
People rarely ask “what if” questions to catch you out. More often, they are worried about something that hasn’t happened yet, and refusing to discuss it makes them believe you haven’t thought about it, or would rather they didn’t.
Instead: “I can’t promise what will happen, but I can tell you how we would handle it.” You don’t need to predict the future to show people you have taken their worry seriously.
Why we all reach for the armour
Most people who use these phrases aren’t trying to mislead anyone. I think the phrases are armour, and we reach for them because something about the moment feels dangerous, and well-worn words have protected others before us. Underneath the armour there is usually a fear we keep telling ourselves, something like “If I admit I don’t know, they’ll think I’m not up to the job.” I call these private fears the Headstuff. In my experience, they are rarely true, but under pressure they feel completely real, and that is exactly when we reach for the safe, familiar words. The trouble with armour is that it works in both directions. It keeps the difficult question out, but it also keeps the audience from ever meeting the person inside it.
What keeping it real sounds like
The most trustworthy sentences a speaker can say are often the shortest ones. “Yes.” “No.” “I don’t know, and I’ll find out.” “I got that wrong.” “We’ve changed our minds, and here’s why.”
They feel far more exposed to say than “Let me be absolutely clear”, and each takes a little courage, because each means putting the armour down. I’ve found that the way to summon that courage is to remember why you are there: never to win the exchange or prove yourself, but to help the people in front of you understand something that matters to them. When that’s why you are speaking, the honest answer stops being a risk and becomes the most useful thing you can give, and the reward is what an audience rarely gets from someone under pressure: the chance to see a real person behind the position.
If you would like help finding your own voice when the questions get difficult, our public speaking courses, one-to-one coaching and presentation skills training for teams are all built around exactly this.
