Olivia: Alright Jackson, I'm going to say a phrase, and I want you to tell me the first feeling that pops into your head. Ready? Jackson: Lay it on me. Olivia: Your boss says: "Can I give you some feedback?" Jackson: Oh, that's easy. It's the sound of my stomach trying to exit my body through my throat. It’s a full-body clench. A cold dread. Olivia: The cold dread! It’s universal, isn't it? That single phrase can ruin a perfectly good Tuesday. And that feeling is exactly what we're diving into today, through the lens of a book with the perfect title: Feedback (and Other Dirty Words): Why We Fear It, How to Fix It by M. Tamra Chandler and Laura Dowling Grealish. Jackson: A very appropriate title. It confirms that I'm not alone in my stomach-exiting-body feelings. Olivia: You are definitely not. And it makes sense, the authors are seasoned organizational consultants who've spent decades inside companies, watching this exact dynamic play out. They argue this isn't a personal failing on our part; it's a systemic problem with how we've framed feedback for a century. Jackson: Okay, so if it's not just me being a coward, what's actually going on in our brains? Why does a simple conversation feel like a physical threat?

Olivia: That's the perfect question because the book says it is a physical threat, at least to our brains. Our brains are ancient hardware running on modern software. When we perceive a social threat—like criticism, judgment, or the possibility of being ostracized from our "tribe" at work—the same alarm system goes off as if we saw a predator in the wild. Jackson: You mean the whole fight-or-flight thing? Olivia: Exactly. The amygdala, our brain's little alarm bell, goes off. It floods our system with cortisol and adrenaline. Our heart races, our palms get sweaty, and blood rushes away from our prefrontal cortex—the smart, rational part of our brain—and into our muscles. We are literally, biologically, preparing to either run away or punch our boss. Jackson: Which are both generally considered career-limiting moves. Olivia: Generally, yes. The book has this fantastic, and frankly, painful story about an employee named Steven. He's a talented guy, his manager Mira is capable and caring. She just pops her head in and says, "Hey Steven, got a minute for some feedback?" And instantly, his world collapses. Jackson: Oh, I know this feeling. Olivia: He describes his heart hammering, his mind racing with every worst-case scenario: "What did I do wrong? Is it about that project? Am I getting fired?" By the time he sits down in her office, he's in full-blown 'fight, flight, or freeze' mode. He can't hear what she's actually saying. He can't process it. He can't trust her. The conversation is doomed before it even begins. Jackson: That is so painfully relatable. It's like your brain just short-circuits. But here's the weird thing that story brings up for me... as much as I dread that moment, I do want to know if I'm doing a good job. I want to know how to get better. Why is there such a massive disconnect between the dread and the desire? Olivia: That is the paradox that sits at the heart of this entire book. We are wired for survival, which makes us fear judgment. But we are also wired for connection and improvement, which makes us crave information. The authors cite some fascinating research that really blows this up. One study from OfficeVibe found that 83% of employees say they appreciate feedback, whether it's positive or negative. Jackson: Eighty-three percent? That can't be right. After hearing about Steven's amygdala hijack, that number sounds impossible. It feels like saying 83% of people enjoy touching a hot stove because it teaches them a lesson. Olivia: I know! It's a wild contradiction. And another study found 62% of employees want more feedback from their colleagues. So we have this situation where the vast majority of us are walking around desperately wanting more input, while simultaneously being terrified of the very process of getting it. Jackson: So feedback has a branding problem. A massive one. It's like it's been mishandled so badly, for so long, that the word itself is now toxic. We associate it with punishment, with those dreaded annual reviews where a year's worth of mistakes are tallied up like some kind of performance report card from hell. Olivia: Exactly. The book argues we've been using a tool designed for growth as a weapon for judgment. And when you get poked in the eye repeatedly, you learn to flinch every time someone raises their hand. The authors say it's time to stop blaming the flinch and fix the poke. Jackson: Okay, I'm sold. The problem is clear, it's visceral, it's scientific. So how on earth do we fix it? Where do we even begin to detoxify the word 'feedback'?

Olivia: The solution, according to the authors, starts with a complete reboot. We have to throw out the old definition and start fresh. Their new definition is really the foundation of the whole book. They define feedback as: "Clear and specific information that’s sought or extended with the sole intention of helping individuals or groups improve, grow, or advance." Jackson: Huh. The "sole intention" part is what jumps out at me. Because most of the time, it feels like the intention is to prove a point, to assert authority, or just to vent. Olivia: Precisely. This new definition strips all of that away. It's not a weapon. It's not an accusation. It's a gift. It's a tool offered with one purpose: to help. But for that gift to be received, it has to be offered on a foundation of trust. Without trust, even the best-intentioned feedback will land like a criticism. Jackson: Right. If you don't trust the person giving you the feedback, you're just analyzing their motives the whole time instead of listening to the message. But "building trust" is one of those big, fuzzy corporate phrases. How do you do that in a real, tangible way? Olivia: This is my favorite part of the book, because they pull in research from a completely different field: relationship therapy. They talk about the work of Dr. John Gottman, who is famous for his "Love Lab," where he studied married couples for decades. Jackson: The Love Lab? Okay, you have my attention. What does marriage counseling have to do with my boss? Olivia: Everything, it turns out. Gottman discovered he could predict with over 90% accuracy which couples would stay together and which would divorce, based on one simple metric: the ratio of positive to negative interactions during a conflict. Jackson: A ratio? You can put a number on it? Olivia: You can. The magic ratio is five to one. For every one negative interaction—a criticism, a moment of contempt, defensiveness—stable, happy couples had five or more positive interactions. A little joke, a touch on the arm, a nod of understanding, an expression of appreciation. These small positive deposits into the "emotional bank account" built up so much trust that the relationship could easily withstand the occasional withdrawal of a negative moment. Jackson: Wow. Five to one. That's... a lot. And you're saying this applies to the workplace? That sounds like a lot of high-fives and "great jobs!" How is that not just... fake positivity? Olivia: That's the key misconception. It's not about grand, fake gestures. It's about the frequency of small, genuine, positive connections. It's remembering to say thank you. It's asking about someone's weekend and actually listening to the answer. It's acknowledging a good point in a meeting. It's all the tiny moments that communicate, "I see you, I value you, we're on the same team." Jackson: So you're building up this trust cushion, so that when a difficult conversation does need to happen, the relationship doesn't just collapse. The trust is there to absorb the impact. Olivia: You've got it. That trust is the vital ingredient. And on top of that, the authors add what they call the other foundational F's of feedback. It needs to be Fair, meaning it's based on facts, not bias. It needs to be Focused, meaning it's bite-sized and specific, not a giant data dump of everything you've ever done wrong. The author Seth Godin has a great line they quote: "Snacking is learning." Jackson: Snacking is learning. I like that. So small, frequent snacks of feedback are better than one giant, indigestible feast once a year. Olivia: Exactly. And that leads to the last F: Frequency. Feedback shouldn't be a scary, scheduled event. It should be a normal, ongoing part of how a team communicates. When it's frequent and light, it loses its terrifying weight. Jackson: Okay, so a new definition, built on a foundation of Trust, Fairness, Focus, and Frequency. It makes a lot of sense in theory. But it still feels like the person giving the feedback—the manager, the Extender, as the book calls them—holds all the cards. How do we actually change the day-to-day power dynamic?

Olivia: You've just hit on the most radical and, I think, most powerful idea in the entire book. The authors argue that the fastest way to fix feedback in any organization isn't to train managers on how to give it better. It's to empower every single person to seek it better. Jackson: To seek it? So the responsibility shifts from the giver to the asker. Olivia: Completely. Think about it. When you ask for feedback, you are in control. You get to choose who you ask, what you ask about, and when you ask. It immediately removes the fear of ambush. You're not a passive victim waiting for judgment; you're an active agent of your own growth. The book re-labels the roles: you're not just a giver or receiver, you can be an Extender (offering feedback), a Receiver, or a Seeker. And being a Seeker is the ultimate power move. Jackson: That's a huge mental shift. It reframes the entire interaction from a confrontation to a consultation. Olivia: It does. And leaders who model this behavior can change a culture almost overnight. There's an incredible story in the book about a senior vice president named John. He was a classic "my way or the highway" leader—brilliant, but quick to judge and harsh with his opinions. His team was terrified of him, and their performance was suffering. Jackson: I think we've all worked for a John at some point. Olivia: For sure. But John was smart enough to realize his approach wasn't working. So, he did something incredibly brave. He got his team together and openly admitted his shortcomings. He said, "I know I'm not a good listener. I'm committed to changing that. And I need your help. I need you to give me feedback, in the moment, when you see me straying from that path." Jackson: Whoa. To ask your own team to call you out? That takes some serious guts. How did they react? Olivia: At first, they were stunned. But he was sincere. He started small, asking after meetings, "How did I do on listening in there?" Slowly, they started to trust him. A junior team member might say, "Well, John, you cut Sarah off about halfway through her point." And instead of getting defensive, John would say, "You're right. Thank you for telling me. I'll do better." Jackson: That's a powerful story. He's not just receiving feedback; he's actively seeking it out, which makes it safe for everyone else to do the same. He's building that 5:1 trust ratio in real-time. Olivia: Exactly. Over a few months, the entire dynamic of his team shifted. Morale and performance skyrocketed. He became one of the most respected leaders in the company. All because he had the courage to make himself vulnerable and become a Seeker. Jackson: That's a fantastic outcome. But for someone who isn't an SVP, for the average person listening, how do you even start? What's a non-awkward way to ask for feedback without putting someone on the spot? Olivia: The book gives some great, simple tips. First, ask in advance. Don't just ambush someone. Say, "Hey, I'm working on my presentation skills. In our next team meeting, could you pay attention to how I open the discussion and give me one piece of feedback afterward?" Jackson: Ah, that's smart. It gives them a specific mission, so they're not just vaguely judging you. Olivia: Right. It makes it focused. Another tip is to ask about your strengths. We're so conditioned to hunt for our weaknesses, but asking, "What's one thing you think I do that adds value to the team?" can be incredibly insightful and builds positive connections. The key is to start small, with one trusted person and one specific question.

Olivia: And that really brings all these ideas together. We start with this deep-seated, biological fear of feedback because it's been used as a tool of judgment. The book's solution is to reboot it entirely—redefine it as a gift, build a foundation of trust using that 5:1 principle, and make it fair, focused, and frequent. Jackson: But the real unlock, the thing that changes the game, is flipping the power dynamic. It's realizing that the most powerful person in the feedback equation isn't the Extender, it's the Seeker. Olivia: Precisely. Fixing feedback isn't about perfecting a script for difficult conversations. It's about fundamentally changing our relationship with it. It's about making growth a shared, collaborative responsibility, not a top-down judgment. It's about making it human again. Jackson: I love that. So, the one thing listeners can do today, the one practical action, isn't to brace for their next performance review. It's to find one trusted colleague, just one, and ask one small, specific question. Maybe something like, "What's one thing I did in that meeting that landed well?" or "What's one way I could have been clearer in that email?" Olivia: Exactly. Start small. Make it a snack, not a feast. And we'd love to hear how it goes. The journey of fixing feedback is a collective one. Share your own feedback stories or what you're trying with our community. We can all learn from each other. Jackson: A movement to fix feedback. I'm in. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.