I learned early that being liked and doing the job well are not the same thing.
In high school, I was head girl. Our principal used to tell me: “Lulu, if everyone likes you, you’re not doing the role properly.” At the time, I didn’t have language for why that was true. I just knew it felt accurate.
I’ve understood it better since.
Where this shows up most clearly
In one of my earlier corporate roles, we had a weekly review meeting.
It was simple on paper.
Actions. Owners. Due dates.
Every week, we’d go through the list.
And every week, some actions would appear again. Same item. Same owner. Slightly adjusted explanation.
“I need to follow up with X then I’ll update.”
“I’m actually meeting with Y after this meeting.”
“I actually want Z to help me do this; I’ll talk to Z after the meeting.”
Nothing dramatic. Just quiet non-delivery.
Most weeks, the meeting stayed pleasant. Polite. Professional. Everyone preserved the tone.
Then one week, the boss called things what they are. Excuses.
Not loudly. Not emotionally. Just directly.
The room shifted.
The issue was no longer the missed action.
It was the boss’ tone.
From that point on, the feedback wasn’t about delivery. It was about how things were being said. The structure stayed the same. The behaviour stayed the same. The clarity was treated as the disruption.
I see the same thing now, from the other side
I run weekly reviews with my own team.
Same structure. Same intent. Clear actions, clear ownership, clear timelines.
I hold the meeting once a week at 10 am. We use online task management tools. From about 8 am to the start of the meeting, my notifications start going off. Tasks get closed. Update messages come in. Things that could have and should have been done earlier suddenly move.
New team members often feel anxious at first. Some find me “too strict”. Some find me “too tough”. A few have even said they dread the review.
What they’re reacting to isn’t hostility.
It’s the absence of wiggle room.
There’s no performance. No story. No soft landing for things that weren’t done. We just look at what happened and what didn’t.
Over time, the anxiety fades. Delivery improves. Trust builds. But the first reaction is almost always the same.
I’m “a bit much”.
Why clarity triggers resistance
Clarity narrows the field.
It reduces the number of explanations available. It makes outcomes traceable. It forces responsibility to land somewhere specific.
That’s uncomfortable in environments that have learned to preserve harmony by keeping things slightly vague.
So when someone removes that vagueness, the discomfort needs a label.
“Abrasive.”
“Too intense.”
“Harsh.”
The content doesn’t get challenged. The posture does.
This is why leadership feels lonely
The loneliness people talk about at the top isn’t about isolation. It’s about exposure.
When you hold clarity, you absorb what others prefer to diffuse. You become the point where decisions stop being theoretical and start having consequences.
That position attracts resistance before it attracts respect.
Because clarity changes the cost of avoidance, not because it is wrong.
What I’ve learned to pay attention to
I no longer ask whether clarity is welcome.
I ask what it disrupts.
Does it challenge a role that hasn’t been defined?
Does it force a decision someone hoped to postpone?
Does it remove a buffer that was protecting people from consequence?
Those answers tell me far more than feedback about tone.
Clarity doesn’t need to be aggressive. But it does need to be exact. And exactness makes systems show their preferences.
This site sits inside those moments. Where naming what’s true changes the shape of the work. Where accountability feels sharp before it feels stabilising.
Because clarity isn’t abrasive by nature.
It only sounds that way when an environment has grown comfortable with things staying unresolved.
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