THIS MOMENT COUNTS · ISSUE 10

The frustrating feeling of watching a weaker idea win.
And what to do about it.

Wednesday, June 24, 2026 · by Dr. Michael Gerharz

When Simon Sinek or Brené Brown post a thought, it gets a thousand likes and a hundred reposts within minutes.

When you (or I) post the same thought, it doesn’t go that way.

So why do people love these words when Sinek or Brown say them, but not when you do? We somehow accept this when it comes to famous authors. It’s harder to accept when it happens in the boardroom or at the conference, where the speaker who’s better known or better connected gets the attention for a mediocre contribution while your rigorous, nuanced, well-balanced talk gets ignored.

The best way to deal with it is to get over it.

I know that sounds harsh. I don’t mean it that way. Because the moment you swallow the frustration, a few paths open up that might get you heard without becoming one of “them”.

It starts with treating your audience as smart. Not dazzled and not fooled. Once you do, what looked like unfairness starts to look like something you can work with.

First. What if they didn’t ignore you at all? What if they simply trusted the voice they knew better? We trust the people we know, and trust does something powerful. It lowers the bar. When someone we already trust makes a claim, we’re less skeptical. We don’t go looking for holes, we don’t always ask for proof, we sometimes just take it on faith. That’s how thinner ideas get waved through while your stronger one gets picked apart. Not because yours was worse, but because trust is what buys an idea the benefit of the doubt.

(Think of the last book you bought. Chances are it was either by an author you already knew or one that someone you trust recommended.)

Second. And how do they earn that trust? Often by knowing (or feeling) how the audience rolls. They reach for the words that resonate because they understand what the audience cares about, sometimes because they share its worldview, interests, or values. The audience respond to the person that seems to get them.

Third. Or what if they’re simply good at finding simple words for complex ideas? So the audience can more easily engage with their ideas rather than having to work so hard to understand your nuanced argument?

The list goes on. The point is that the moment you treat the audience as smart, the game stops being rigged and starts being learnable.

Which brings up the uncomfortable part. The way past someone the audience trusts is not through a more rigorous argument. It’s to allow the room to trust you even more. Here is how that trust gets built.

One thing before you read the list. Notice which of these makes you most uncomfortable, because that discomfort usually points at the very thing that would move the needle most.

1. Build relationships. This one especially freaks out introverts. They tell themselves the work should speak for itself if they only made it clear enough, partly because the alternative means doing the thing they’re worst at, with people they suspect of doing nothing else. But relationships are where trust grows. We extend trust to people we know. This isn’t “politics” or playing “the game”. It’s just what humans do. (The worst thing that can happen is that you end up knowing a few people a little better.)

2. Get a coach. It’s entirely possible that the prominent are good at speaking in a way you can’t even see. Speaking is a craft and it can be learned. And in a way that’s truthful to who you are and respectful of the truth. A good coach helps you stop sending the small signals that cost you trust and amplify those that increase it.

3. Stop being right. Start getting it right. I know that’s a hard pill to swallow for rigorous thinkers. You’ve thought it through, your case is airtight. But that’s exactly what stops you from seeing it from another angle. What if the room holds a different set of values? Find that, speak to it, and they’ll hear your arguments with completely different ears. Nothing earns trust faster than showing you’ve taken the other side seriously. (And your idea might get better for it.)

4. Repeat yourself. This often feels like an escape for people with nothing to say. But, sometimes the room may really need to hear it a third time before it lands. The smarter an idea, the more it challenges existing beliefs, the longer it takes before we trust it.

5. Give them a way in. Use simpler words. Make them curious before you hand over the full picture. Leave the nuance for later. Plenty of people think simplicity is the opposite of depth. It isn’t. It’s the way in, and an idea people can grasp is an idea they can trust.

Prominence was never your enemy, and competence is not an excuse for getting ignored. It was never either-or.

Here’s the catch, though, and it’s why a list like this is harder to use than it looks.

From the inside, your rigor feels like rigor, not like the wall the audience keeps running into. Your thoroughness feels thorough, not like the evasion they hear. The signals that win or lose trust are much better noticed by a second pair of ears: a friend, a trusted colleague, or a coach.

Keep lighting the path,
Michael

PS: If you’d rather not work on this alone, that’s what the Clarity Lab is for. When it counts, a second pair of ears that helps you hear your talk like your audience would, will stop the guessing. Reply to this email if you want to talk about it.