Something interesting happened to me recently during a staff meeting. It was a strategic discussion among senior engineering leaders, including my boss and several colleagues. We were talking about a new product development initiative—an area where the company had previously invested effort, but ultimately canceled the earlier project. I was part of that original effort, so I have some history with both the domain and the engineering team that worked on it.1
Given my background, I offered my thoughts on how we might want to approach the internal conversations surrounding this new initiative. I emphasized the importance of involving and aligning with the broader organization as we move forward.
Then a newer colleague responded. His reaction made it clear that he didn’t agree with my take. In fact, he offered an alternative approach with a tone that came across as a bit dismissive and somewhat self-important. You know the kind: someone hears your perspective and immediately offers what sounds like a more “enlightened” way to handle the situation—something higher-minded, more strategic, more polished.
In the past, I would’ve felt the need to respond. To correct him. To clarify that I had considered that approach, or to explain why it might not be as straightforward as he seemed to think. I would have wanted to make sure I didn’t look like I missed something—or worse, let him have the last word.
But this time, I didn’t.
Instead, I sat with it. I let it pass.
Partly because I’m learning that in more political environments, timing and discretion matter. But mostly because I realized something deeper: I don’t need to correct every misunderstanding. I don’t need to defend every nuance of my thinking. And I certainly don’t need to prove that I’m the smartest person in the room.
If my colleague chooses to jump to conclusions about my perspective—if he assumes that my brief comment was the extent of my insight—that’s on him. If he decides not to engage further with someone who has experience and context he doesn’t yet have, that’s his mistake to make.
And I don’t need to stop him from making it.
Instead, I can take note. I can proceed accordingly. I can save my energy for when it matters most—and trust that the value I bring speaks for itself over time.
There’s power in restraint. In letting someone else have the last word—not because you lost the argument, but because you’ve already won something more important: perspective.
This post was voice recorded, transcribed with speech to text then cleaned up with ChatGPT