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August 28, 202611 min read

How do you have a hard conversation with an employee?

Thom Van Dycke · Van Dycke Strategic Business Architecture

leadershipfounder-led growthculture

You open it plainly and you have it early. Say that you need to have a hard conversation, name what happened, explain why it isn't acceptable, say what it cost you, and then be quiet. The mechanics matter less than two qualities underneath them: humility to actually hear the answer, and courage to do something once you have.

Why does every article about this hand you a script?

Type this question into a search bar and watch what comes back. Templates. Word-for-word openers. Phrases to use and phrases to avoid. The whole category is built on the premise that the hard conversation is a performance problem, and that with better lines you'd get a better outcome.

I've seen the identical pattern in how founders search about pricing. Every query is a request for something to say when a customer pushes back, and almost nobody asks why the pushback keeps arriving. Same instinct, different room. We go looking for the line because the line feels like something we can control, and the underlying thing feels like it isn't.

Scripts fail here for the same reason they fail on price. By the time you're in the room, most of the conversation has already been decided, and it was decided by whether this person ever knew what the standard was. If they did, you're having a correction. If they didn't, you're having an ambush, and no phrasing rescues that.

Which is not to say the mechanics are worthless. They're just downstream.

What did I learn from a group of middle schoolers?

Working with middle school students is one of the great gifts of my life, and the reason is simple. They tell you the truth. Constantly. Without being asked, and usually at the worst possible moment.

We'd just come back from a day at a water park. A kid came up to me, delighted, and said, "You wouldn't believe it, Pastor Thom. Johnny's car goes 160."

I said, "Oh, no kidding. Tell me more."

"Well, sometimes he lets us drive it around the parking lot."

"No kidding. That's amazing."

Inside I was seething. Outside I kept saying tell me more, because I could feel that there was more, and there was.

"Yeah, and sometimes he lets us ride around in the trunk."

There it is.

Now, in fairness to the volunteer, this was not drifting on a highway. It was a car in a parking lot and a young leader who thought he was being fun. He was a friend of mine. He was good with kids. And he had made a string of short-sighted decisions that would have ended the ministry if one of them had gone wrong.

The conversation that followed was hard, and it worked. It never happened again.

Two things made it work, and only one of them is a technique. The technique is that I got the whole picture before I reacted. If I had gone hot at 160 kilometres an hour, I'd never have heard about the trunk, and I'd have addressed a smaller problem than the one I had. Keep them talking. The full version of the story arrives in the last sentence, not the first.

The other thing is that I didn't argue about rules. I said: any parent looking at this sees somebody breaking the law and endangering their child. That one sentence did more than a policy document could have, because it moved him out of his own frame and into the frame of the person whose kid was in the trunk.

How do you actually open one?

Directly. Roughly like this:

Look, we need to have a hard conversation. What you did there was not okay. This is why. This is what it cost me. This is how it made me feel. You're a great guy. I think we can get past this. But you cannot do that again.

That's the whole shape. It takes under a minute and most founders spend a week avoiding it.

Notice what's in there and what isn't. There's no warm-up, no five minutes of small talk that everyone in the room knows is a runway. There's a cost, stated as a fact. There's an emotional consequence, stated plainly and without theatre. There's an affirmation of the person that is not a sandwich slice, because it comes after the criticism rather than around it. And there's a boundary at the end, which is the part that turns a complaint into a standard.

Then you stop and let them respond. This is where most of the information is, and it's the part people skip because they've been rehearsing their own lines.

Is it okay to be angry?

Yes. And most leadership writing on this subject is quietly lying to you about it.

Emotion is not the enemy. Anger at work done badly, at a corner cut, at a promise broken to a client, is a normal and appropriate human response. A leader with no emotional register is not calm, he's absent, and people can tell.

What matters is control. Feeling it and choosing what to do with it are different acts, and the second one is the skill. It is not always wrong to blow up, either. Occasionally the size of the reaction is the message. But that's a rare instrument and most founders reach for it far more often than the situation earns.

The honest version is that this is as much art as science. The right temperature depends on your industry, on the person in front of you, and on who you actually are. Some of us have to learn to bring the heat down. Some of us have to learn to bring it at all, because going quiet and hoping is its own failure and it does more damage over a longer period.

The research suggests most managers are working without much help here. An Achievers Workforce Institute survey of 1,500 employees across the US and Canada in March 2024 found that two thirds of employees want to have tough conversations at work, a third feel unsafe having them with their own manager, and only about a quarter of managers have had any real training on how to hold one. The appetite is there. The capability mostly isn't.

What about the one that didn't work?

I want to tell you about a conversation I did carefully and lost anyway, because leadership content almost never includes these and it should.

He was one of the first volunteers I ever had to let go. A young adult, good-hearted, who could not read a room. It wasn't that he did anything outrageous. He just had no sense of what people were comfortable with, and it showed up in personal space and in clothing that stayed at sweatpants-level leisure no matter what the setting was. There's a standard even for volunteers, and he could not see it.

I was friends with his parents. That's not incidental; it's most of why it took me as long as it did.

I called him into my office and worked through it, item by item, and I felt cruel doing it. I had a list. Going through a list of somebody's failures out loud is a genuinely awful thing to do even when it's the right thing to do.

He listened. Then he said: "Well, I know I'm a good leader. I guess I'm just not quite right for this youth ministry."

And I sat there thinking, you didn't hear a word of that. There was no humility in it, no question, no attempt to understand what I'd just spent twenty minutes describing. He gave me nothing back. And that, right there, was the actual problem, larger than the clothes and the personal space and everything on my list.

What I take from it is the part I'd want you to keep. You control whether you say it well. You do not control whether they can hear it. Those are two different jobs and only one of them is yours. A conversation that lands nowhere is not automatically a conversation you botched, and if you believe otherwise you'll keep having the same one, gentler each time, for years.

What about being on the receiving end?

I've been the one called into the office, too.

Early in my ministry career I was suspended from serving for six weeks. I'd hosted a guys' night at my house and left a bottle of vodka somewhere visible with underage kids in the building, and then, when it came up, I made a smart remark about it instead of taking the point. My boss called me in. I told him he was wrong and quoted scripture at him, which is the kind of thing that seems very clever at the time.

He said something I have repeated for twenty years since: that this whole thing is about laying down your rights, not defending them.

That sentence rearranged me, and it's worth noticing why. He didn't out-argue me. He moved the frame. I had been standing on what I was entitled to do, and he asked, without asking, what I was there for.

Every hard conversation you're about to have has that structure available to it. You can win the exchange, or you can change what the person is standing on. The second one is slower and it's the only one that produces a different Monday.

It also requires that you would be willing to hear it yourself. Humility to listen and learn, courage to act. Those two, in that order, are the entire job. There's nothing else in leadership that matters more, and no script will substitute for either.

Where does the architecture come into this?

The conversation is a symptom of an upstream decision, and the upstream decision is whether the standard exists.

In most founder-led businesses it doesn't, not in any form a person could check themselves against. The standard lives in the founder's judgment and gets dispensed after the fact, which means every correction arrives as news. That's what makes these conversations so heavy: you're not correcting a deviation, you're introducing a rule and enforcing it retroactively in the same breath. Of course it feels unfair. It is unfair.

When the standard is stated in advance, the conversation gets dramatically lighter. It becomes a comparison rather than a judgment. This is what we agreed. This is what happened. Talk to me. You'd be surprised how much of the emotional weight comes off just from that.

This sits at the seam between how you sell and how you deliver, and it's the layer almost nobody builds until it's already broken. Every business needs its own version, written for the work it actually does, which is the work we do with founders and the reason it takes months rather than an afternoon. Adopting somebody else's employee handbook produces a document nobody reads and a standard nobody believes.

Putting it to work

Before your next hard conversation, take ten minutes and do this.

Write down what you're going to say, in four lines. What happened. Why it's a problem. What it cost, specifically. What has to change. If you can't get it to four lines you don't have it clear enough yet, and the conversation will wander.

Ask yourself whether this person could have known. Was the standard stated, in advance, in words? If it wasn't, say so at the top. "This is partly on me, I never told you this plainly" costs you nothing and buys you the entire rest of the conversation.

Plan to get the whole picture before you react. Whatever prompted this, there is probably more of it. Ask, and keep asking, before you land.

Decide in advance what happens if nothing changes. Not to threaten with. For yourself. A conversation you're not prepared to follow is a conversation the other person will correctly read as optional.

Then adapt it to who you're talking to. The person who has been with you nine years and the person who started in March do not need the same conversation, even about the same mistake.

Sources

Frequently asked

How soon after the incident should I have the conversation?

Close to it, while the details are still sharp for both of you, but not while you're hot. A day is usually right. A week means the person has decided it didn't matter, and reopening it then feels like you've been stewing, which changes what they hear.

Should I have it in writing or in person?

In person, always, for the conversation itself. Write afterward if the situation needs a record, and keep the written version to what was actually said. Leading with an email lets you avoid the hard part and guarantees the tone gets read wrong.

What if they get defensive or upset?

Let them. Defensiveness is a first response, not a final one, and people often come back a day later having heard more than they let on. What you're watching for is whether they engage with the substance at all. Silence and total deflection are the signals worth taking seriously.

Do I need a witness or an HR process?

For most conversations in a small business, no, and adding one changes the temperature in a way that rarely helps. For anything touching harassment, safety, or a possible termination, get proper advice for your jurisdiction before you sit down. That's a legal question, not a leadership one.

What if I've let it go for months already?

Say that out loud when you open. Owning the delay is the fastest way to keep the conversation from becoming an argument about why now, and it's true anyway. Then have it, because month seven is not better than month six.

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