What If You Didn’t Have the Answer?
The Cost of Being the Smartest Person in the Room
You walk into the room ready. You’ve done the prep. You’ve run the numbers, reviewed the research, triple-checked the assumptions. You’ve got the answer.
And you walk in, confident. You’ve got this.
But then – so does everyone else.
You’re sitting across from three other people who’ve also done the work. Who also feel confident. Who are also holding onto their version of the right answer. So now what?
Is this a conversation? A collaboration? Or is it a quiet competition dressed up in polite dialogue?
There’s this thing that happens when we come into a room so certain, holding a tight grip on our answers: we unintentionally shut down the possibility for others to share theirs. We don’t even realize we’re doing it. But we do. Maybe with our tone, or our timing. Maybe just by speaking first and going hard.
So I wonder…
👉 When was the last time you were in a conversation with someone who had to be the smartest person in the room? Maybe it was subtle (or not).
👉 What happened to your energy in that moment? Did you lean in, or did you pull back?
👉 Were you energized to contribute – or did you start scanning the room for the exit? Did you challenge them? Or did you decide it wasn’t worth the effort?
Sometimes we mistake knowing for leading. We replace certainty for clarity — and ultimately confuse being right with being effective.
It’s understandable since we’re rewarded for answers, and are celebrated for decisiveness. And let’s face it: confidence is often the loudest voice in the room.
But here's the question: Does the loudest voice leave space for anyone else to speak?
What if the most powerful thing you brought into the room wasn’t your expertise . . . but your openness? What if the real strength wasn’t about knowing – but about not knowing? Or being willing to not know, at least for a moment, to see what might emerge?
Because here’s what I’ve seen: The “smartest person in the room” can often be the one people stop talking to. Not because they’re not brilliant, or their ideas aren’t good. But because no one feels like they can talk. The oxygen has been sucked out; there’s no air left. Just certainty. Just solutions. Just . . . answers.
And that can be isolating – not just for others, but for you too.
So what might happen if you walked into a room with curiosity instead of certainty? With a willingness to be challenged, to be wrong, to learn something new?
That takes courage.
That’s leadership.
That’s influence.
Being prepared is powerful, and knowing your stuff is necessary. But leaving room for other ideas, dialogue, and sparks to fly . . . that’s what creates trust. That’s what builds something bigger than just your own brilliant answer.
So next time you walk into a room, ask yourself:
👉 Am I here to be right?
👉 Or am I here to connect?
👉 To build something together?
👉 To learn?
Because maybe not having the answer is where the real magic starts.
📣 Have tips or other techniques you’d add? Share in comments below.
🤝 If you need help curbing your need to be the smartest person in the room, please reach out to me about coaching.
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