I walked into my boss’s office, a small, windowless space tucked away in the corner of the building. Dim lighting and the hum of air conditioning created a stifling atmosphere, like a rabbit’s hideout. His demeanor immediately struck me as off. He sat behind his sizeable burgundy desk, eyes glued to his two computer screens. I had just returned from a vacation in Africa, where I witnessed giraffes gliding gracefully across the savannah and impalas galloping freely through the plains. The zebras’ bold black-and-white stripes starkly contrasted with the golden grass, painting a picture of nature’s serene power. I felt recharged, grounded, and energized—eager to channel that vitality into my work.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked, trying to ignore the strange tension that built in the air.
“Yes, take a seat,” he replied without looking up. He picked up a sheet of paper and walked behind his desk to join me at the small round table between the office door and his desk.
When I sat down, my energy evaporated as he pushed a sheet of paper across the table. The heading was stark and cold: “Performance Improvement Plan.” My heart skipped a beat. I froze, staring at it in disbelief. I scanned the document, wondering if it was a mistake or meant for someone else. But no. It was for me.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
“I need you to sign it,” he replied flatly, eyes still on the paper, voice devoid of empathy.
“What do you mean I need to sign it? For what?”
“It’s part of your development,” he explained, his tone as cold as the room.
I stared at the paper, trying to reconcile it with past development plans—plans that emphasized growth and support. This felt different and ominous, and a pit grew in my stomach.
“I don’t understand,” I said, steadying myself. “Why do I need to sign a document that says if I don’t improve my performance in 90 days, I’ll be fired?”
“Don’t worry about that language,” he dismissed as if it were a trivial detail.
“What do you mean, don’t worry about it?” I shot back, frustration bubbling up. “If you want me to sign this, I need to know exactly what to improve. What is it?”
His eyes hardened. “Are you refusing to sign it?” His voice sharpened, edged with an unspoken threat.
“Yes, I’m refusing to sign it,” I said, standing my ground. “Because I don’t understand what I’m being asked to sign. You say it’s about development, but this doesn’t feel like development.”
He sighed, thin frustration creeping into his voice. His eyes narrowed, and his pale skin flushed angrily. “Look,” he said, his voice tightening, “I see you becoming a leader in this company, but we need to work on some things. This is part of the process.”
His words rang hollow as if he didn’t even believe them. The situation felt absurd. I had seen development plans that encouraged improvement, set clear goals, and were meant to guide. But this? This was a threat wrapped in the guise of a “process.”
He praised me six months before that moment and told me I exceeded expectations. Now, suddenly, I stood on the verge of being fired. How could things change so drastically?
I pressed him further. “How did I go from exceeding expectations to being on the verge of being fired? I’ve never been on a PIP before. This doesn’t feel right.”
The tension in the room thickened. His response was a vague murmur about me not meeting standards, but it made no sense. He handed me the paper, and with tightness in my chest, I set it back on the table, standing up abruptly. I needed to leave before I said something I’d regret.
I walked back to my office, trying to process everything. But no sooner had I sat down than he followed me, pushing the same sheet of paper onto my desk. Rage flared in me like a firestorm. I felt heat rising in my chest.
I remember our conversation two weeks ago when I asked him for my end-of-year review. I told him how important it was for me to understand where I stood so I could improve. He’d told me I was exceeding expectations. And now this? How had things changed so suddenly? It was as if the floor had been pulled out from under me.
I looked him dead in the eyes, my voice cold and demanding. “What’s going on here? How did I go from exceeding expectations to being put on a performance improvement plan? What’s behind all this?”
As I expected, his answer was as vague as before. He mumbled something about me needing to speak louder. “How does that affect my job?” I asked, my voice strained. He had no answer.
Then came the real kicker: that I hadn’t taken enough ownership of a project—one that had occurred five months ago. Five months. And now, instead of addressing it in the moment, he let it fester. Rather than offering me timely feedback or real-time guidance, his solution was to write me up. This wasn’t about helping me improve—it was about documenting my faults. There was no effort to foster growth or provide clarity, just a cold, unfeeling document to hold over my head.
The room felt suffocating now. My boss had never held a proper one-on-one with me and had never shown an interest in helping me grow or improve. No, he had let this drag on and then handed me an ultimatum, expecting it to motivate me.
It was clear now: I wasn’t being developed. I was being discarded. And I wasn’t going to stand for it.
Aside from occasionally stopping by my office to ask for information, I couldn’t shake the thought that my boss had never had a proper one-on-one meeting with me. I began to wonder what he thought his job was. From everything I had read about leadership, the most critical responsibility of a leader is to develop their people. But there was nothing in my experience that resembled that. I had to figure everything out on my own, especially since I was still in the early years of my leadership journey.
I felt punished for situations that could have been avoided with open communication. Instead of receiving an opportunity to improve, I faced an ultimatum that seemed more about covering his own back than helping me grow. I couldn’t help but feel that the whole situation was misguided and that I was being asked to fix problems that weren’t mine.
I signed the paper, but at that moment, I knew I couldn’t trust him anymore. The trust had been broken. No matter how many documents he presented or how many times he tried to “correct” me, I could never thrive under leadership that didn’t care enough to invest in my development. It became clear: I had to take charge of my growth because he certainly wasn’t going to. I lost all respect for him. He hadn’t motivated me, given me honest feedback, or avoided confrontation. Instead of guiding me; he left me questioning everything about my performance and future.
Reflecting on the experience, I understood the importance of honest feedback in professional growth. Feedback isn’t about threatening someone with the consequences of failure or offering vague suggestions that leave the employee confused and uncertain. It should be clear, actionable, and constructive. It’s about showing someone their weaknesses—not to criticize but to help them improve and become top performers.
At that moment, I remembered a scene from my favorite movie, Rudy. The groundskeeper tells Rudy, “You’re five foot nothing, a hundred and nothing. You have hardly a speck of athletic ability.” These harsh words weren’t meant to tear Rudy down but to snap him out of his delusions. It was a being hit by a “2×4 moment,” a blunt truth delivered to push Rudy to improve. That’s what honest feedback looks like.
The only way to improve your team’s performance is through honesty. We don’t motivate people by threatening to fire them or using fear. We change behavior through clear, direct communication about what’s working and what’s not. To see our teams grow, we must stop tiptoeing around the truth.
Actions Managers Can Take to Improve Team Performance Through Honest Feedback:
- Be Direct and Specific: When providing feedback, avoid vagueness. Focus on specific behaviors or actions that need improvement.
- Offer Constructive Criticism: Instead of just pointing out deficiencies, suggest ways to improve and offer your support in making those changes.
- Create a Safe Space for Feedback: Encourage open communication. Employees should feel safe asking questions and voicing concerns without fear of retribution.
- Provide Timely Feedback: Don’t wait until the last minute. Give feedback consistently, both positive and negative, so your team can adjust course when necessary.
- Focus on Growth: Frame feedback to emphasize improvement and development, not punishment. Help your team see mistakes as learning opportunities.
- Encourage Two-Way Communication: Feedback should be a conversation, not a monologue. Encourage your team to share their perspective and ask for feedback in return.