I've discovered one communication fear that appears almost universal. It's one of the least-talked-about group projects in corporate Australia. It’s not public speaking or being on camera. It's being asked a question you don't know the answer to.
My rare glimpse behind the curtain of leadership teams across a mix of industries, gives me a perspective that often feels like I've accidentally become Switzerland. I'll spend the morning training people to present to politicians. Then, in the afternoon, I'll be training politicians. In the same week, I might help a leadership team learn how to present to the board, then work with a board presenting to their AGM. I’ll coach executives preparing for media scrutiny, then spend time with journalists talking about what makes a good interview. I feel like the farmer on the hill, able to see both valleys at once.
NDA's, handshakes and basic professional ethics keep me from sharing details, but my unique vantage point gives me a fascinating insight into human behaviour.
From where I'm standing, everyone thinks everyone else has it together. And everyone is wrong.
I once had two people from the same conference panel ask me for presentation coaching. They were both concerned other panel members would be more experienced, sound smarter and more polished. They both had professional insecurity and neither knew the other was thinking the exact the same thing. Imposter syndrome had secured multiple seats on the panel.
It turns out that once you become an industry leader, the stakes get higher. The executive worries they'll be asked for a fact that's suddenly vanished from their brain. The engineer or the academic worries they'll be asked a technical detail that sits outside their scope. The politician worries they'll be asked about an issue they haven't been briefed on. I had a client once say to me “The fastest way to forget a number is to have somebody ask for it in front of 200 people”.
We're all walking around terrified we won’t know the answer, and that somebody will discover we're not as smart as they think we are.
But audiences are usually far more forgiving than speakers imagine. Most people don't expect you to know everything. They expect you to know your area and to be prepared. They expect you to understand their concerns, and to be honest. What they’re unlikely to forgive you for is arrogance, spin, or obvious bluffing.
In boardrooms and newsrooms alike, it's widely accepted that one of the fastest ways to lose trust is pretending you know something you don't. But confidence isn't knowing everything. Confidence is being comfortable not knowing everything.
Let that sit for a second.
Confidence is being comfortable not knowing everything.
The truly confident people I've worked with aren't the ones who have all the answers.
They're the ones secure enough to admit when they don't. Maybe that's because they've figured out that nobody knows everything. Not the CEO. Not the politician. Not the journalist. Not the board chair. And definitely not the comms consultant standing at the front of the room pretending she has a clever ending for this article.
But there are times where you really should know the answer, and that’s the part that keeps people awake at night. If it’s outside your lane, most people are happy to give you some grace. Fair bump, play on.
But the harder scenario is when you don’t know something that falls squarely within your responsibility. Welcome to the reason half of us wake up at 3am replaying old conversations.
I'd still argue the answer isn't to bluff. When you bluff, you’ve got two problems.
First, you don't know the answer. Second, you're about to destroy trust by pretending you do. Instead, acknowledge the gap, clarify or reframe the question, commit to follow up and then recover quickly. Let them question your memory, not your integrity.
Of course, if "I should know that answer" is making a regular appearance in your meetings, that's not a communication issue. That's a preparation issue. But if it happens every now and then, congratulations, you're human.
The lesson isn't that it's okay not to know things. The lesson is to know what you should know, be honest about what you don't, and never sacrifice trust trying to cover the gap.
Credibility isn't built in the moments you have every answer. It's built in the unscripted moments when you don't. From behind the curtain, the people you think have it all together, are usually wondering if everyone else does too.
