The air conditioning vent above my head hummed at a perfect F-sharp, a low, constant drone I’d learned to tune out until moments like this. My manager, David, cleared his throat, a small, wet sound that signaled the pivot from pleasantries to business. He looked down at his notebook, where he’d scrawled a single bullet point. ‘Okay,’ he said, tapping the page. ‘Just one thing. I need you to be more strategic.’

He looked up, a placid, expectant expression on his face. He had delivered the feedback. He had done his job. Now it was my turn to receive the gift, to nod and say thank you for this incredible insight that would surely unlock the next level of my professional development. I nodded. I said, ‘Okay, can do.’ The F-sharp from the vent suddenly felt like a drill.

The question is rhetorical. It means none of those things, because it means nothing at all.

Vague Feedback is a Conversational Black Hole

It’s a manager abdicating their primary responsibility: to provide clear, actionable guidance that helps their team improve. Instead, they hand you a locked box with no key and tell you the treasure inside is invaluable. Good luck.

This isn’t just about bad managers. It’s a symptom of a much deeper institutional failure. We promote people for being excellent individual contributors. The best salesperson becomes the sales manager. The best engineer becomes the engineering lead. We reward them for their success by giving them a completely different job, one that requires a staggeringly different skill set-the ability to develop other people. And we give them precisely

1 day

of training on how to do it.

The Illusion of Coaching

We would never ask a brilliant cardiac surgeon to fly a 741 with only a pamphlet for guidance, yet we routinely ask brilliant performers to manage teams with the equivalent of a corporate fortune cookie.

The Power of Precision: A Therapy Animal Trainer

I’ve become obsessed with people who have no choice but to be precise. My friend, Kendall J.P., is a therapy animal trainer. She works with golden retrievers and their handlers to prepare them for visiting hospitals and nursing homes. Her feedback loop is instantaneous and brutally honest. If she gives a vague command, the dog gets confused. If her correction is unclear, the behavior doesn’t change. She can’t tell a handler to ‘be more confident with Leo.’ What would they do with that?

The handler knows exactly what to do, and the dog learns the boundary. The result is a calm, confident animal that can bring comfort to someone in distress. Kendall’s work has life-or-death consequences on an emotional level; a badly behaved animal can cause immense stress. There are no empty boxes in her world.

Confessions of a Former Vague Manager

I confess, I used to be that manager. I’m ashamed to admit it. Years ago, I had a junior report, a talented graphic designer who was struggling. In a review, I told him his work ‘lacked a certain punch.’ He looked at me, completely adrift, and asked what that meant. I had no idea. I was just stressed, overworked, and parroting a useless bit of feedback someone had once given me. I had failed him completely. I spent the next

11 months

trying to undo the damage, not by giving him better feedback, but by learning to ask him better questions to help him discover the ‘punch’ for himself. It was a clumsy, painful process, but it taught me that the goal of feedback isn’t to label a problem, but to collaboratively solve it.

This need for clarity isn’t confined to our offices or dog training parks. It’s a fundamental human need. Think about the last time you went to a doctor. If they ran

21 tests

and came back saying, ‘Well, you could be healthier,’ you’d be furious. You’d demand specifics. What do the numbers mean? What should I eat? What should I avoid? A professional has a duty to translate complex information into actionable guidance. It’s the same reason a good

family dentist

doesn’t just say ‘floss more.’ They show you the specific spot between your lower molars where plaque is building up and demonstrate the exact technique to address it. They turn a vague exhortation into a concrete,

1-minute daily action

with a clear benefit. That’s care. That’s respect.

The Courage to Be Specific

So what’s the alternative? It starts with observation and data. Instead of ‘showing more ownership,’ a good manager might say,

‘I’ve noticed that in the last

11 project meetings, you’ve waited for others to propose solutions. I want you, for the next project, to be the first person to present a plan, even if it’s incomplete. I will back you up

101%.’

Instead of ‘increase your visibility,’ they might say,

‘The executive team only hears from our department through me. I want you to present the quarterly results at the next leadership meeting. Let’s spend

41 minutes this week preparing for it together.’

The Click of Clarity

I’ve been thinking about this a lot since I, against all odds, executed a perfect parallel park on a busy street last week. For years, my attempts were a mix of guesswork and blind hope. Then I watched a

31-second video that said:

It was a precise, unassailable algorithm. It wasn’t ‘feel the space’ or ‘be more spatially aware.’ It was a set of instructions. And it worked on the first try. That’s the feeling we’re chasing.

The Real Gift

We accept vague feedback because we are conditioned to believe it’s a gift. We nod, say thank you, and spend a week trying to decipher the runes. But it’s not a gift; it’s a burden.