The Kindness That Kills: Why Your Feedback Sandwich Starves Growth
The words hung there, shimmering with unspoken implications, like heat haze over asphalt on a July 23rd afternoon. My manager, bless their heart, had just finished an excruciating conversational ballet. “You’re doing great work on the Johnson account, truly. Your dedication is clear,” they’d begun, a warm, fuzzy blanket of affirmation. I felt a fleeting spark of pride, already bracing myself. “Some people,” they continued, a slight dip in tone, a carefully neutral gaze, “have felt your emails can be a bit… direct.” Direct. Not rude, not ineffective, just… direct. And then, the finale, a triumphant flourish: “But we really value your passion! Keep bringing that energy!”
I sat there, frozen in a state of terminal niceness, my internal processors whirring. What did that mean? Was I supposed to be less direct, or was my passion so valuable it outweighed the supposed directness? Was I good or bad? The Johnson account felt like a success just 3 minutes ago, and now I wasn’t so sure. This wasn’t feedback; it was an emotional maze designed to protect feelings – specifically, the manager’s feelings – not to help me grow.
“This isn’t feedback; it was an emotional maze designed to protect feelings… not to help me grow.”
The Insidious ‘Feedback Sandwich’
This insidious little communication technique, the ‘feedback sandwich,’ isn’t a tool for development; it’s a shield for managerial cowardice. It’s a convenient dodge, a way to deliver a difficult message without




































