A senior leader stops you in the hallway. “Hey — what are you working on?”
You freeze. You start with “um,” and mention you’re “trying” to move a few things forward, which “hopefully” will land soon.
And while your work is strong — you know that’s not what came across.
This is the executive communication gap. And sometimes, the language you’re using is part of the problem.
The words “try” and “hope”, every hedge you meant to ensure accuracy — or to avoid bragging — can make you sound less certain than you actually are.
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Frankie Kemp trained as an actor before she started coaching leaders. So when she talks about executive presence, she isn’t talking about performing a role.
She’s talking about the opposite.
Real presence, she says, is expanding the range of who you already are — not squeezing yourself into the organizational playbook.
This framing stuck with me: an actor gets a script and a director. Somebody else has set the parameters. But the actor still has to make it personal. That’s what makes one performance electric and another forgettable.
The same is true at work. You were hired for a reason. The version of you the organization needs isn’t the generic corporate one — it’s the one only you can bring.
The key is authenticity.
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We spent most of the conversation on the mechanics.
The word “try” builds failure into your sentence before you finish it. “We’ll try to make this work” and “our aim is to make this work” carry the same intent — but create completely different impressions. “Hopefully” can do the same thing.
As can the words “leverage” and “optimize” which you may think sound important, but come across as vague, and frustrating to senior leaders.
Then there’s the hallway ambush. The senior leader taps you on the shoulder.
Frankie’s move here is to buy time. Don’t fill the initial silence with filler words like “um” and “ah.”
Repeat what you heard. Redirect with a clarifying question. Comment on the question itself. Any of them is better than waffling. And any of them can buy you the two seconds you actually need.
And when you have to give an update — especially when you don’t have the whole picture yet — she uses a structure so simple it almost feels like cheating:
What I know.
What I don’t know.
What I’ll find out.
Honest, clear, and — as Frankie says — it builds trust faster than pretending you’ve got everything under control.
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If you’ve ever walked away from a hallway conversation replaying it in your head, or ended a status update wondering why it landed flat, I think you’ll get something from this conversation.
Listen to the full conversation with Frankie wherever you get your podcasts.
Connect with Frankie:
Greg, “what I don’t know” is the part I would want to protect. Helping someone speak more clearly can easily turn into teaching them to sound certain about things that aren’t settled. That simple update leaves room for authority and honesty in the same sentence. I appreciate you keeping that distinction in the conversation.