Let me ask you a question.
Do you actually know what your team is thinking right now?
Not what they're saying in meetings. Not what shows up on an engagement survey. Not what they think you want to hear. What are they saying after the meeting is over? What conversations are happening when the conference room empties, the Zoom call ends, and everyone goes back to work?
I learned an important lesson about this years ago.
We were preparing to change the way we compensated our support team. Before the meeting even started, I had convinced myself everyone was going to hate the idea. I anticipated objections before anyone raised them. I built my defense. I rehearsed answers to arguments that hadn't even been made yet.
When I walked into the room, I was prepared for a fight.
The funny thing is, nobody was fighting.
The team was fine with the change.
Looking back, the resistance wasn't coming from them. It was coming from me. Because I assumed they would push back, I approached the conversation defensively. I spent much of the meeting explaining and justifying a decision that nobody was really questioning. In many ways, I created tension that didn't need to exist.
After the meeting, one of my team members, Kevin, pulled me aside.
"Andrew, nobody really had a problem with the change."
I've thought about that conversation many times over the years, but not because of what he said. What stayed with me was where he said it. He didn't say it during the meeting. He didn't challenge me in front of the group. He waited until afterward and spoke to me privately.
That detail matters.
It was one of the first moments when I began to understand something many leaders struggle to see. People don't automatically tell us what they're really thinking. Not because they're difficult. Not because they're disengaged. More often than not, they're simply deciding whether it's safe.
Early in my career, I believed if people had concerns they would speak up. I genuinely wanted feedback. I wanted people to challenge ideas and help us get better. I assumed that if I asked for honesty, I would get it.
What I've learned is that honest feedback doesn't appear simply because a leader wants it. It doesn't show up because you put "my door is always open" in an email or mention it during a staff meeting.
An open door is a nice sentiment, but it isn't what creates trust.
Kevin didn't talk with me because of a policy. He talked with me because we had built a relationship. We had worked through challenges together. We had earned credibility with one another over time. The relationship made him comfortable enough to tell me the truth.
Everyone else in that room stayed quiet.
At the time, I interpreted that silence as agreement. Today, I know better. Silence can mean agreement, but it can also mean uncertainty, frustration, caution, or self-protection. Sometimes people are trying to determine whether speaking up is worth the risk. Sometimes they've already decided it isn't.
The reality is that honest feedback rarely disappears all at once. It fades gradually.
A team member raises a concern during a meeting. A leader immediately explains why things are the way they are. Someone challenges an idea, and the conversation quickly gets steered back toward the original plan. Nobody intends to shut down discussion, but the message is received anyway.
People notice those moments.
They notice who gets listened to and who gets interrupted. They notice how leaders respond when challenged. They notice whether concerns lead to action or whether they quietly disappear after the meeting.
Most leaders never announce, "I don't want honest feedback."
Instead, they unintentionally train people to stop giving it.
Eventually team members learn that agreement is easier than honesty. So they nod. They smile. They move the meeting along.
Meanwhile, the real conversations happen afterward.
I've made that mistake myself more times than I'd like to admit. Most leaders probably have. The challenging part is that we're often the last ones to realize it's happening.
Over the years, I've become convinced that culture isn't built primarily during big moments. Leaders tend to think culture is shaped during town halls, organizational announcements, strategy meetings, or annual retreats.
Those events matter, but they're not where trust is won or lost.
Trust is built during the small moments.
It's built when someone disagrees with you and you genuinely listen instead of immediately responding. It's built when the quiet person in the room is invited into the conversation. It's built when you follow through on something you promised to do. It's built when people see that their input doesn't disappear the moment it becomes inconvenient.
Those moments may seem small, but your team is paying attention to all of them.
They're keeping score even if you can't see the scoreboard.
That's why, whenever I've stepped into a new leadership role, I've tried to follow a simple approach. During my first few weeks, I spend time meeting one-on-one with every direct report. I ask questions. I listen. I take notes. Most importantly, I resist the urge to explain everything away.
I've learned that when people share concerns, they're usually not looking for a speech. They're looking to see whether you're actually listening.
Then I look for one thing I can fix quickly. Not the biggest problem. Not the most complicated issue. Just one barrier that people have identified that I can remove.
When that happens, something important occurs. People begin to believe they were heard.
Listening matters.
Acting on what you hear matters even more.
One of the disciplines I've worked hardest to develop over the years is learning to talk less in meetings.
That sounds simple. It isn't.
When you've been leading for a long time, it's tempting to jump straight to the answer. You've seen similar challenges before. You have ideas. You want to help. You want to move things forward.
But I've discovered that some of the best conversations happen when I resist that temptation.
When I wait.
When I let others speak first.
When I ask another question instead of providing an answer.
When I facilitate rather than dictate.
The truth is that silence isn't always agreement. More often, it's people processing, evaluating, and deciding whether it's safe to contribute. If we're constantly filling every silence with our own perspective, we may never hear what others are actually thinking.
The longer I lead, the more I've learned that rebuilding trust operates much the same way.
There are no shortcuts.
If people have stopped speaking honestly, trust won't be restored through a communication campaign, a new initiative, or a single meeting. It takes time. It takes consistency. It takes countless small interactions where people begin to see that things are genuinely different.
For leaders who like to move fast, that can be frustrating. We want results. We want progress. We want to fix things quickly.
But trust doesn't move at the speed of a project plan.
It grows one conversation, one follow-through, and one interaction at a time.
And often the most important thing a leader can do is stay curious.
If there's one lesson I've learned after more than 30 years of leading teams, it's this:
Ask another question.
You may already think you know the answer. You may even be right.
But asking another question accomplishes something more important than proving your expertise. It communicates that the other person's perspective matters. It shows you're trying to understand rather than simply waiting for your turn to respond.
Over time, those moments accumulate.
People begin to speak up sooner. Conversations become more honest. Problems surface before they become crises. Trust grows.
The gap between what leaders think their teams are thinking and what teams are actually thinking is often much larger than we realize. The only way to close that gap is to stop assuming and start listening.
Not just listening to respond.
Listening to understand.
So I'll leave you with one question.
Think about the last meeting where someone disagreed with you.
What did you do next?
Did you start explaining why you were right, or did you ask another question?
The answer might tell you more about the level of trust on your team than any survey ever could.