Speak up, be heard, be dominant. If you’re not loud, you’re not influencing.
That’s what many of us were taught way back when.
Yet, the research tells a very different story.
Studies from Harvard and leading universities found that quieter, more introverted leaders often outperform louder ones, especially in fast-changing environments.
In fact, one major study showed they can drive up to 28% higher productivity in proactive teams.
Why?
The quiet achiever does something the loudest rarely does - they listen, they process, they think.
Neuroscience backs up this research.
Quiet thinkers tend to have more activity in areas of the brain linked to analysis, focus and decision-making, thus allowing them to stay with problems longer and make more considered choices.
While the loud push to be heard, the quiet pull people in. While the loud react, the quiet reflect.
This doesn’t mean loud is bad.
Knowing when to speak and when to pause is the genuine advantage.
If you’ve ever felt overlooked because you’re not the loudest voice in the room - don’t change a thing.
Sometimes the one who wins isn’t necessarily the loudest.
It’s often the one who understands that has the most impact.
Let’s talk!
I Was A Detention Specialist.
Growing up, I was always getting into trouble.
Not really serious trouble, although I did have a visit from a police officer more than once.
"What were you thinking?"
An excellent question, one I rarely knew the answer to.
The strange thing was that I knew the difference between right and wrong. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was that while other kids seemed to see a bad idea and avoid it, I'd see a bad idea and think, ‘this could be funny.’
I spent a fair bit of time by myself in the naughty corner at primary school.
At high school, I achieved what was probably a unique distinction. During woodwork class, I had to stand in a position where both the woodwork teacher and the principal could keep an eye on me.
It was like being under 24-hour surveillance before CCTV was invented.
The principal walked past. "What are you up to, Burdett?" He knew me by my last name, which must be a good thing.
Looking back, it should probably have been humiliating, a real punishment.
Funnily enough, it wasn't. Part of me felt different, part of me felt rebellious, and if I'm completely honest, part of me was secretly proud of challenging the system.
Not that the system seemed particularly challenged; it usually won.
I often remember thinking – ‘I wish I didn't do dumb sh*t."
It wasn't like I woke up each morning with a carefully prepared plan to annoy teachers, upset adults, or earn another detention.
Things just seemed to happen, and before I knew what had happened, I was standing in front of someone explaining why it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Years later, there are plenty of things I could blame. Growing up without much money, struggling to learn, difficulty sitting still, not understanding how my brain worked.
There's a long list available if I want one. But the older I get, the less interested I am in finding something to blame. Because if I'm honest, I still do dumb sh*t.
The difference is that nowadays it usually ends with a strained muscle, a swollen ankle, or my wife asking – ‘What were you thinking?"
Which remains an excellent question.
The person I think about most is my dad. Now and then he'd look at me after another spectacularly poor decision and ask, "Why do you always do this?"
I never had an answer. I'd shrug my shoulders, look at the ground, and say nothing.
Fifty years later, I'd love to go back and answer him. The problem is that I still don't know.
If you ever figure it out, could you please let me know?
Asking for a former detention specialist who is still doing dumb sh*t!
Let’s talk!
Pause, Reflect, Act.
Have you ever heard the saying – We always tend to hurt the ones we love – in our conversations?
It sounds harsh; is it actually true?
Research suggests, and I don’t like saying this, it often is.
Not because we love them less, but because we love them more.
The people closest to us are the ones our brain feels safest with. That safety lowers our guard and sometimes, our filter.
Psychologists call this displacement. We hold in frustration at work, in public, with strangers, and then release it at home, where it feels safer to do so.
Neuroscience adds another layer to this. In close relationships, our brains are more emotionally connected and reactive.
A tone, a look, a small comment can trigger a much bigger response, flipping us into survival mode.
When that happens? We’re no longer responding; we are protecting.
So yes, sometimes we hurt the ones we love. Not because they matter least, but because they matter most.
Try this when you feel emotions building in a conversation with a loved one: The 3-Second Reset.
When you notice the shift, such as your tone rising and your body tightening, pause for just 3 seconds.
Take a slow breath in, drop your shoulders, and ask yourself: “What’s going on here?”
That tiny pause interrupts the survival response and gives your thinking brain a chance to catch up. It allows you to catch yourself just one moment earlier.
Pause, reflect, act.
Let’s talk!
Making (or not) Decisions!
Righto, confession time.
I am absolutely hopeless at making decisions.
Honestly, if there were an Olympic sport for thinking about deciding, I’d have a gold, a silver and a ‘just checking I made the right call about entering’ medal.
Whenever I need to make a big decision, I do what any highly trained professional would do - I make a cup of tea and hope the universe sorts it out for me.
To be fair, sometimes it does.
Most of the time, I just end up hydrated and still confused - and then beat myself up about wasting time!
Recently, I was speaking at a conference and came across the Eisenhower Matrix.
Now THIS looked promising. Four boxes - how simple can this be:
✅ Do it now.
✅ Decide when to do it.
✅ Delegate it.
✅ Delete it.
I thought, finally, a system for people like me. Those who can’t even decide what to decide about before making a decision.
I gave it a crack. Started with the low-hanging fruit, which, it turns out, is a classic brain trick called attentional narrowing.
Basically, when our brain has no idea what’s going on, it goes - let’s just look busy.
So, you end up replying to emails from 2017, reorganising your desktop and suddenly feeling like a productivity ninja without actually achieving anything.
It’s like mowing the lawns when your entire life is falling apart. Great straight lines though!
Here’s my problem: Everything feels urgent.
That email? Urgent. That report? Urgent.
I sit there staring at the matrix thinking, Is this urgent or is it just me being dramatic again?
Before I know it, I’ve spent 15 minutes trying to decide which box the task belongs in, which I’m pretty sure needs its own box.
Don’t get me started on “Delegate it.”
Who am I delegating to? My dog Bailey? Historically, that hasn’t worked out great.
Mate, if I start deleting things based on uncertainty, I’m one bad decision away from deleting my entire life and moving to a cabin in the Coromandel.
Here’s where I’ve ended. The Eisenhower Matrix is about getting out of my own head long enough to just pick something and move.
Doing something slightly wrong is infinitely better than doing nothing perfectly.
(Although I’m still work-shopping whether that sentence belongs in “Do” or “Decide”)
Anyway, if you see me staring blankly at a to-do list this week, don’t worry. I’m not stuck; I’m just making a very strategic cup of tea before taking decisive action.
Am I the only one who thinks everything is urgent, or is that just how our brains keep us entertained? 😄
Let’s talk!
Challenge Accpted.
Does being told you can't do something immediately make you want to do it?
When I was in the police, staying fit wasn't optional. As one of the more senior (older, ancient, fossilised) officers, I had to keep passing the Physical Competency Test.
I decided to get into running rather than lifting iron (tin in my case).
I'd heard exercise was good for you. Apparently it helps with fitness, mental health and all sorts of other things sensible people talk about.
I was also coming out of a short dive into depression, so I thought running might be a good idea.
Twice a week I'd run 10 kilometres. On alternate days I'd do weights.
Everything was going brilliantly until my shins decided they had other plans.
What followed was a spectacular medical investigation. Scans, specialists, more scans.
At one stage they injected me with something radioactive. I should be okay, “Just don't stand too close to pregnant women for the next few hours.”
Eventually I found myself at the Adidas Sports Clinic.
After months of tests, consultations and enough orthotics to support a small village, the specialist sat me down and delivered the verdict.
"Lance, some people just aren't meant to run."
Now, he probably thought he was being helpful. What he didn't realise was that he'd just activated the most dangerous words in the English language.
“I’ll show you!”
I've been running ever since. Not always well, not always enthusiastically.
For several years I absolutely hated it, but I kept doing it.
Fast forward to yesterday when my ankle was sore. Not ‘slightly uncomfortable sore’, more like ‘common sense says stay at home’ sore.
So naturally I went for a run. Probably to see if it was serious, but hey, what's the worst that could happen?
As it turns out, things can actually get worse. Go figure.
As I limped home, I started asking myself an important question… Why do I keep doing this?
Who am I trying to prove something to? Is it ADHD, which I blame for all sorts of things? Is it stubbornness, most likely. Or a refusal to admit I can’t.
Or is it simply that every time someone says, ‘You can't’, a small voice in my head immediately replies, ‘Watch me.’
I've come to realise I may never know the answer as to why I do it, push myself beyond my own limits.
What I do know is that if life has taught me anything, it's that when a medical specialist says, "Some people aren't meant to run," they're talking about other people.
Not stupid people like me who knows better.
Let’s talk!