A colleague across the table offered a different perspective on the integration timeline, and Malik’s face was already answering before the man finished—the expression his team knew so well: I’ve already solved this.
Malik stopped himself mid-sentence. Three seconds and a quiet breath, then he calmly said, “I hear you and you’ve got me curious. What are you seeing that I might be missing?”
This moment was the result of a commitment Malik had made six weeks prior, when we first met. He was a senior technical leader on the customer implementation team at a financial software company. He described his role as the last line of support for clients, the person who solved problems others had given up on. His team knew this, absorbed his intensity, and tried to soften it for others. But those outside his team experienced only his demands, and, at times, dreaded it.
When I asked him what he made of the consistent feedback about his direct, demanding, and dismissive style, he admitted he wasn’t surprised. He knew colleagues viewed him as intelligent and talented, but also viewed him as arrogant. This pattern showed up most visibly in meetings, where his reactions shut down contributions before they were fully formed.
I asked, “What do you want to do about it?” He said, “Own it and do one thing differently.” Before responding in a meeting, he would pause for three seconds. In that window, he would ask himself: Is there something I could ask here instead of jumping in with the answer?
Within weeks, people began offering ideas they had been holding back. Colleagues noticed. After three months, he asked me to circle back to his team. The team confirmed it. Malik’s new approach made problem-solving feel lighter, even though the stakes hadn’t changed.
Telling demonstrates what you know. Asking demonstrates what you value.
THE QUESTION
When did you last ask a question out of genuine curiosity rather than confirmation, and what did it open up?
“Can you stay curious a little bit longer?” — Michael Bungay Stanier