Sometimes someone asks you a question — and instead of answering, you start talking.
You give context. You explain. You trace the edges of the issue or talk through your thought process. Eventually, maybe, you get to the point.
We do it when we’re buying time. Or stalling. Or hoping the answer reveals itself as we speak. That 4-minute TED talk ramble when someone just asked “yes or no?”. (I’ve done this. You’ve probably done it too.)
But what’s actually helpful? What builds trust? What helps people move?
Start with your answer. Then expand.
I think of it as a thinking habit — especially useful in live settings. Meetings, standups, decision calls. Situations where others are depending on you for a clear signal, so they can figure out what to do next.
Your answer doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t even have to be complete. But if you lead with it, people will listen differently. Because you’re not performing your clarity. You’re showing it.
Answer
Start with your answer.
“Yes.” “No.” “7% complete.” “50% chance we’ll hit.”
When you don’t, you start to ramble. And others can feel it.
“Okay, so we started planning three weeks ago, and the goal was to ship by next Friday, but there were some blockers, and honestly we’re in a good place now, but I still need to check a couple of things… but do we know if this other team is ready?… Maybe if we…”
This isn’t answering. It’s stalling with style. You can feel the energy drain. Line by line. People are trying to follow — but mostly, they’re just trying to figure out what’s actually happening.
It’s that small, familiar form of self-deception: Talking in circles, hoping the answer will reveal itself. It’s not malicious. It’s fear. Fear of being wrong. Fear of being exposed. Fear of committing too early, in case you sound dumb. But giving in to that fear makes things messier than they need to be. And ironically, it can land you in the very situation you were trying to avoid.
To skip all that: start with your answer.
Answer the question. Clarity doesn’t need performance. Clarity speaks for itself.
And to do that well, you have to know what your answer is. That means knowing your stuff: How far along the project is. How many days are left until delivery. What version of the service you’re using. What happens if you keep it, or upgrade it.
You don’t need every detail at your fingertips — but it helps.
And if you don’t know? That’s okay. Just have a way to find out.
One moment please...
Sometimes you don’t know. But you know how to check.
In those moments, I’ll literally say:
“One moment please…”
Yup! Like a phone operator. It gives the meeting a pause while I go look.
I’ll also usually include a time estimate:
“10 seconds...”
Not “just a sec” or “a minute.” Those are vague. “10 seconds” is specific. It sets expectations. It gives others permission to keep the meeting moving while you check in the background.
And if you say 10 seconds, start the clock. Stick to it.
If you don’t find what you need, make a call:
- Try again — once — with a longer window (e.g. 30 seconds)
- Follow up after the meeting
- Say it straight: _“I don’t know.”
I don’t know
That’s your answer. And sometimes, it’s the best one you’ve got. (I say this all the time!)
Too often, people build a long, winding explanation just to avoid saying “I don’t know.” They stall. They hedge. They eventually admit it — but only after wasting everyone’s time.
It doesn’t help. It doesn’t build trust. Leading with “I don’t know” is honest. It might not be what others want, but it’s what they need.
And yeah, someone might ask:
“Why don’t you know?”
And the answer might be that long backstory you rehearsed twice before the Zoom call. But now it has context. Now it makes sense. You’re not wandering toward a point — you’re expanding on one.
And if you’re someone who thinks out loud, that’s fine too. Just signal it:
“I don’t know. I’m going to talk it through a bit — might find the answer as I go.”
Now people know your words are a process, not a prescription. Exploration, not conclusion. Data points, not demands. (This last one is very important if you’re a leader or stakeholder.)
It depends
“It depends” comes up a lot. It’s one of the most common non-answer answers out there. And yeah, sometimes it’s annoyingly and unavoidably valid—because nuance is real.
But I try not to lead with it unless I follow it with what actually matters.
Far too often, “it depends” is just a stalling tactic. A preamble to a ramble. A hedge. You can feel it when it happens. The energy drops. The clarity vanishes.
If you’re going to say “it depends,” that’s fine.
Just make sure to follow it with something useful:
“It depends… but honestly, blue or black ink doesn’t matter. What matters is that you use it.”
Or:
“It depends on the strategy — but let’s pick one of the three, try it for a week, and pivot if it flops.”
In both cases, “it depends” isn’t the point. It’s just the setup. The real point is what follows.
BLUF
There’s a name for this kind of clarity:
BLUF — Bottom Line Up Front.
It started in the military. In high-stakes, time-sensitive situations, you don’t warm up to your point. You lead with it.
“Enemy position confirmed. Recommend immediate retreat.”
The idea is simple: say what matters first. Then explain.
BLUF shows up in all kinds of industries:
In consulting decks:
“We recommend Option C.” Then: data, analysis, rationale.
In legal briefs:
“The clause doesn’t apply in this case.” Then: precedent, context, interpretation.
In medicine:
“It’s likely viral, not bacterial.” Then: symptoms, timeline, treatment plan.
In engineering standups:
“Fix is deployed.” Then: what broke, what was done, what comes next.
BLUF is a communication pattern. “Answer, then expand” is a thinking habit. BLUF is what you use when you’ve had time to prepare. “Answer, then expand” is what you reach for in real time. One is composed. The other is instinctive. Both create clarity.
So the next time someone asks you something — in Slack, in an email, in a meeting — don’t bluff. B.L.U.F. instead. Or better yet, Answer, then expand.
Be real
This isn’t about being right all the time. It’s about being clear in the moment — so people can respond, build, move.
Saying “I don’t know” is clarity. Saying “It depends,” then explaining what actually matters — that’s clarity too.
And in high-stakes moments, clarity becomes trust.
So the next time someone asks you something: Answer, then expand.
No performance. No posturing. No bluff. No fluff. Just real-time honesty — the kind that respects the question, and the person asking it.