The words hung in the air, thick and shapeless, just like the humidity outside the glass meeting room. “We need you to be more strategic,” my manager intoned, her gaze fixed on the quarterly review form. Not on me. My stomach tightened, a familiar clench that had become a constant companion after 27 years in this game. I tried to mentally swat away the feeling, much like I’d reflexively squashed that spider earlier this morning – an instinctual, almost primal act against something unwelcome, something that made my skin crawl.

“Strategic,” I echoed, the word tasting like corporate dust. “Could you give me an example, perhaps, of what that looks like in my current projects?” A polite, measured question, delivered with the practiced neutrality of someone who’d asked it perhaps 77 times before. Her eyes darted to mine, a flicker of something unreadable – annoyance? Uncertainty? – before she defaulted. “You know, just… lead more. Think bigger picture.”

This isn’t a failure of communication, not really. It’s a tool of self-preservation. A manager, unable or unwilling to engage in a difficult, specific conversation, defaults to the comfortable ambiguity of jargon. It protects them from having to articulate their own vague dissatisfactions, from having to confront their own lack of specific observation, and crucially, from the potential pushback that concrete feedback might elicit. It’s safer to say, “Be more proactive,” than to say, “Your report on the Q3 market trends missed the competitor analysis piece, and you waited until the last day to submit it, which delayed our strategy meeting by 7 hours.” One statement is an unchallenged platitude; the other is an invitation to a direct, possibly uncomfortable, dialogue.

The Cost of Vagueness

I once found myself guilty of this, early in my career, doling out equally useless advice. I told a junior designer to “add more flair” to a presentation, convinced I was empowering them. What I was actually doing was offloading my own inability to articulate what “flair” meant in that specific context. It was only after 7 frustrating rounds of revisions, where the designer looked increasingly dejected, that I realized my mistake. “Flair,” for that particular client, meant incorporating elements from their most popular marketing campaign of the last 7 years, not glitter and bold fonts. The specific reference would have saved us both days of angst.

Consider Nora D.R., a union negotiator I’ve had the distinct pleasure of knowing for over 27 years. Nora doesn’t deal in vague. Her world is built on explicit terms, concrete deliverables, and specific concessions. When Nora walks into a room, there’s no ambiguity about what she wants for her members, or what she expects from management. Her proposals are meticulously detailed, down to the 7-day notice period for schedule changes or the exact percentage point increase in benefits. If a manager ever told Nora to “show more ownership” during contract negotiations, she’d likely offer them a wry smile and then methodically dissect the phrase until it dissolved into its component parts, demanding to know what specific action, what measurable outcome, they were actually seeking. Her power comes from this radical clarity, from stripping away the corporate fluff and getting to the unvarnished truth of what’s being asked, what’s being given, and what’s being withheld. She understands that clarity isn’t just a communication style; it’s a foundation of power, a shield against manipulation, and a tool for progress. This unwavering commitment to specificity is what makes her so effective, so respected, and frankly, so terrifying to anyone who prefers the comfort of generalities. She’s a master of crafting plans that leave no room for misinterpretation.

Clarity is Power

And isn’t that what we all truly crave: a map, not a mystery?

This need for clear, actionable guidance extends far beyond performance reviews. Think about planning a trip. You wouldn’t accept an itinerary that vaguely suggests, “Visit some historical sites” or “Experience local cuisine.” You’d want specifics: “Tour the Colosseum at 9:00 AM on July 17th,” or “Dinner reservation at Trattoria da Enzo at 7:30 PM, specializing in Roman artichokes.” This is where the true value lies in services that cut through the noise, providing meticulously detailed pathways to success or enjoyment. For instance, when planning a complex international journey, one looks for the kind of precision that leaves no room for doubt. They provide clear, specific itineraries and transparent options, making the process seamless and stress-free. Admiral Travel exemplifies this by giving travelers exactly what they need: not just ‘go somewhere nice,’ but ‘here’s exactly where to go, what to do, and how to get there, with every 7th detail accounted for.’

The parallels are striking. Why do we tolerate vague feedback in our professional lives when we demand crystal-clear plans for our leisure? The answer lies in the power dynamics and the uncomfortable truths that specific feedback often unveils. It’s easier for a manager to deliver a soft, ambiguous blow than to risk the discomfort of a direct challenge, or worse, the revelation that they themselves don’t fully grasp the ‘how.’ It’s a convenient avoidance mechanism, often dressed up as empowerment. “I’m not telling you how to be strategic; I’m empowering you to figure it out!” But empowerment without guidance is merely abandonment, leaving the employee stranded in a sea of conjecture, desperately trying to divine the hidden meaning behind leadership’s enigmatic pronouncements.

The Cumulative Effect

The cumulative effect of this constant interpretive labor is devastating. It’s not just the individual who suffers from burnout and low morale; it’s the entire organization. When employees are spending a significant portion of their mental energy trying to solve the riddle of their feedback, they’re not innovating, they’re not collaborating effectively, and they’re certainly not performing at their peak. It creates a culture of second-guessing, where initiative is stifled by the fear of misinterpreting the unspoken rules. A team operating under such conditions might achieve 77% of its potential, simply because 23% of its collective effort is diverted to deciphering the cryptic wishes of management.

We need to flip the script. Instead of treating feedback as a mysterious riddle to be solved, we must demand it as a clear, precise instruction. It’s not about being handed solutions, but about being handed the right questions, or at least the specific data points that allow us to formulate our own solutions. If someone tells me to “show more ownership,” I now immediately counter with, “Can you point to a specific instance where you felt I didn’t demonstrate ownership, and what concrete action would have shifted that perception for you?” This shifts the burden of specificity back to the giver of the feedback, where it rightfully belongs. It forces them to move beyond the platitude and engage with the granular reality of performance.

The irony is, many managers want to be helpful. They truly believe they’re providing valuable guidance. They’ve simply been conditioned by years of corporate speak to use these terms, to perpetuate the cycle. Breaking this cycle requires courage – courage from employees to ask for more, and courage from managers to look inward and ask themselves: “Do I actually know what I mean when I say ‘be more innovative’? And if so, can I articulate it in a way that provides clear steps, even if those steps are just ‘read these 7 industry reports’ or ‘schedule 7 brainstorming sessions with cross-functional teams’?” This isn’t about hand-holding; it’s about respectful, effective communication that leads to tangible improvement, not just endless, anxious speculation.

A Call for Radical Specificity

Perhaps the most potent antidote to vague feedback is to cultivate a culture of radical specificity, not just in receiving feedback, but in giving it. As a seasoned negotiator, Nora D.R. understands that every word carries weight, every clause has consequences. She leaves no room for interpretation because ambiguity is the enemy of agreement and progress. We could learn a lot from her approach. It’s about taking the nebulous feeling of “something isn’t quite right” and working backwards, relentlessly, until you identify the 7 key behaviors or outcomes that underpin that feeling. It’s about acknowledging that sometimes, the feedback isn’t about the receiver at all, but about the giver’s own underdeveloped observational skills or their fear of direct confrontation.

This isn’t just a lament about poor management practices; it’s a call to action for every single person who has ever received or given ambiguous feedback. It’s about reclaiming our time, our emotional energy, and our professional development from the tyranny of corporate jargon. It’s about insisting on clarity, on specificity, and on the kind of directness that truly enables growth, rather than stifling it under a blanket of well-meaning but utterly useless words. The world of work has enough challenges; deciphering vague gifts shouldn’t be one of them.

So, the next time someone tells you to “synergize cross-functionally,” ask them for the 7 actions that define it. Demand the blueprint, not just the dream. And watch how quickly the fog begins to lift.