Courage Roars Quietly — How to Give Negative Feedback

Yesterday, I did something really difficult. It took courage and composure – and I was running low on both. My heart was pounding, my pulse was racing, and I was already in tears. But I did it anyway.

I gave my doctor a big dose of negative feedback. Out loud and in person. And it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

Expressing hurt or disappointment is never easy. But it’s especially hard when the person we have to address is in a position of trust and responsibility. When someone is supposed to have your best interests at heart, it seems disloyal or foolish to point out their errors. But that is the only way to give people insight and impetus to do better next time.

When my doctor told me that one of my greatest health concerns is “not clinically significant,” I felt dismissed and misunderstood. It made me question her compassion. And, yes, I wondered if I should request a new doctor. I held back when the clinic called to do a post-appointment survey about the care I received because I wasn’t ready to tell my troubles to some anonymous stranger. That didn’t seem like a good way to handle the situation.

Our culture seems to encourage anonymous criticism. People vent their frustrations online instead of taking them up directly with the person involved. Complaints posted to Twitter or Facebook get the immediate attention of the shamed organization and their constituency. Customers vote with their feet when they see social media posts dissing a business’s products or practices.

I call this “hit and run feedback.” It creates a scene, does some superficial damage, and leaves everyone to figure out what happened without the benefit of a shared understanding.

We aren’t very good at giving direct negative feedback and I think we pay a price for that. Women especially worry that we can’t stand up for ourselves without stepping on everyone else (I’ve written an article about that here). When we don’t have anything nice to say, we don’t say anything at all.

I wanted to give my doctor a chance to be the doctor I believe she is; one who is compassionate and smart and interested in my well-being as a person, not just a patient. So I chose to speak up.

After I blubbered through what I had to say, she shared her side of the story. And she apologized. I suspect we both had a change of heart and I know she will think more carefully when she speaks to the next patient she sees. I’m proud of myself for expressing my disappointment with honesty and humanity. And I’m happy to say I’m not looking for a replacement provider.

What hard thing do you need to say? Expressing disappointment directly is the surest pathway to peace. The best approach is empathic, not aggressive. I like how Jenny Matlock captures this idea in her hand-painted sign: “Courage Roars Quietly.” Maybe I should buy it for my office.