There’s a classic improv exercise where two performers act out a very ordinary scene—say, a married couple discussing where to go for their anniversary. Meanwhile, two other performers stand behind them and tell the audience what the characters are really thinking beneath the surface.
It’s brilliant. And revealing.
Because so often, what we say isn’t quite what we mean.
Key & Peele nailed this dynamic in their famous sketch featuring President Obama and his “anger translator”—the character who voiced all the unspoken frustrations simmering behind Obama’s famously composed exterior.
You can watch it here. It’s worth it.
Which brings me to a thought:
What if, in regular, everyday life—at work, at home, in meetings and conversations—people are doing the same thing?
What if, when someone gives you feedback, makes a complaint, or drops a heavy opinion into the room... they’re not just offering a statement—they’re making a request?
A request they haven’t quite found the words—or the courage—to express directly.
Sometimes they don’t even know they’re making one.
Why do we do this?
Plenty of reasons:
• We’re conflict-averse.
• We lack confidence.
• We haven’t clarified our own thinking.
• Or we simply don’t know how to ask for what we want without feeling vulnerable.
But whatever the reason, the impact is consistent:
Unexpressed requests lead to unmet expectations, which lead to disappointment, which often leads to blame. Or silence. Or both.
It’s a costly cycle—and one that clogs up a lot of professional and personal communication.
So what do we do?
Well, we start by not being clever about it. No one needs your inner Sherlock Holmes or a smug “ah-ha!” moment.
What they might need is someone who’s listening well enough to ask a curious, gentle question.
Try these on for size:
“I hear you’ve got strong thoughts on this—would you mind saying it again, so I can really hear it?”
“You’ve shared a lot there. If you had to boil it down to one core issue, what would it be?”
“If you needed me to do one thing differently, what would you ask for?”
“How would you advise me—or us—to move forward?”
“Can I help with this in some way?”
“I think I hear a request in what you’re saying—can you help me understand what that is?”
These kinds of questions do something simple but profound:
They move us out of what I call the language of description (where we talk about the thing) into the language of creating (where we talk about what we want to build together).
I talked about this a hundred years ago in my TEDx talk—you can still find it online, remarkably.
Because ultimately, most people don’t want to complain, or correct, or criticize.
They want something to get better.
They just don’t always know how to say so clearly.
So the next time someone drops feedback on your desk, or frustration in your inbox, or a “strong opinion” in the middle of a meeting—pause for a second.
And ask yourself:
“What might they be asking for, underneath all this?”
Then, if you’re feeling bold, you can even ask them.
You might be surprised what gets created from there.
