You’re sitting in a glass-walled conference room, or maybe a Zoom call where everyone’s camera is off except yours. Your stomach feels like it’s doing backflips because you just realized the quarterly projections are off by 20%. You have two choices. You can bury that data in slide 47 and hope nobody notices until next month. Or, you can do what the highest-paid consultants and crisis managers do. You can lead with the disaster.
When high-level executives or seasoned PR pros get into a mess, they try to admit the worst first informally to take the teeth out of the bite. It sounds counterintuitive. It feels like professional suicide. But honestly, it’s the only way to keep your credibility from evaporating the second the truth eventually hits the fan.
The Stealing Thunder Strategy
In social psychology, there’s this concept called "stealing thunder." Researchers like Kipling Williams have spent years looking at how this works in a courtroom. Basically, if a lawyer admits their client has a prior conviction before the prosecution brings it up, the jury finds the defendant more credible. Why? Because you aren't "getting caught." You’re "being transparent."
When you use the tactic where they try to admit the worst first informally, you’re effectively performing a preemptive strike on your own reputation.
Think about a coffee shop that runs out of oat milk. If you wait until the customer has already stood in line for ten minutes and finally tries to order their latte, they’re going to be annoyed. If there’s a messy, handwritten sign on the door that says "Hey, we’re out of oat milk today—it’s been a rough morning," people soften up. The "worst" is out there. The expectation has been reset.
Why the Informal Vibe Actually Works
If you send a formal, three-page memo detailing a failure, it feels like a legal document. It feels like you’re hiding behind corporate jargon. People start looking for the "gotcha" moment. But when you keep it informal—maybe a quick Slack message or a "hey, do you have five minutes?"—it changes the power dynamic.
It feels human.
I remember a project manager named Sarah who worked for a major tech firm in Austin. She realized a week before launch that the API wasn't going to hold up under the expected load. Instead of waiting for the "Status Update" meeting on Friday, she walked into the CTO's office on Tuesday. She didn't have a deck. She just said, "Hey, I've got some bad news. The API is going to break if we hit 10k users. We need to pivot the launch strategy now."
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Because she admitted the worst first, and did it informally, the CTO didn't scream. He actually thanked her. They spent the rest of the week fixing it rather than pretending it wasn't happening.
The High Cost of the "Slow Reveal"
We've all seen what happens when people do the opposite. They try to "manage the optics." They use phrases like "we are experiencing some headwinds" or "there are minor adjustments to the timeline." This is the death of trust.
When you drip-feed bad news, you look incompetent. Or worse, you look like a liar.
Look at the Boeing 737 Max crisis or the way various crypto exchanges folded in 2022. In almost every case of corporate collapse, there was a period where leadership knew things were bad but tried to polish the turd. By the time the truth came out, it wasn't just a business failure; it was a moral one.
If they try to admit the worst first informally, the conversation shifts from "How could you let this happen?" to "Okay, how do we fix this?"
How to Actually Do It Without Getting Fired
Look, there’s an art to this. You can't just walk around yelling about how everything is failing. That’s just being a doomer.
- Timing is everything. You do it the moment you know the bad news is "real" and not just a temporary glitch.
- Own the mess. Use "I" or "We." Don't blame the "market conditions" or a "glitch in the system." People hate that.
- Bring a shovel. Don't just dump the trash on someone's desk. Say, "The numbers are down 15%. I think it’s because of the new ad creative. I’m already pulling the old ones back into rotation."
It’s about being the first person to point at the elephant in the room. If you’re the one who points at it, you’re the guide. If someone else points at it, you’re just part of the scenery.
Psychological Safety and the Bottom Line
Harvard Business School professor Amy Edmondson talks a lot about "psychological safety." In environments where people feel safe to admit mistakes, the company actually makes more money. It’s not just about being "nice." It’s about data flow.
If your team is scared to tell you the truth, you’re making decisions based on fantasies. When leadership demonstrates that they try to admit the worst first informally, it sets a cultural standard. It tells everyone else, "Hey, we don't punish reality here."
I’ve seen this in small businesses too. A local plumber once told me he was going to be two hours late because he’d accidentally overbooked and felt like an idiot. He called me before I had to wonder where he was. I wasn't even mad. I was just glad I didn't have to sit around waiting. He admitted the worst (he messed up his schedule) informally (a quick phone call) and first (before I noticed).
He kept my business.
The Nuance of "Informal"
When we say "informal," we don't mean unprofessional. We mean skipping the theater.
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The theater of business is exhausting. The polished presentations, the carefully worded emails CC’ing fifteen people, the "alignment" meetings. Admitting the worst informally is an act of radical efficiency. It’s cutting through the noise.
It also makes you more likable. There’s this thing called the Pratfall Effect. Basically, people who are generally competent become more attractive and relatable when they make a mistake—provided they own it. If you’re a high-performer and you admit a screw-up early, people actually trust you more than if you were "perfect."
Perfect people are suspicious. They’re hiding something.
Overcoming the Fear
The reason most people don't do this is pure, lizard-brain fear. We are hardwired to avoid social rejection. Admitting a failure feels like inviting a predator to bite us.
But in the modern world, the "predator" is usually just a frustrated boss or a lost client. And nothing frustrates a boss more than being blindsided. If you’re the one who delivers the blow, you control the narrative.
Think of it like ripping off a Band-Aid. You can do it slowly, hair by hair, which hurts forever. Or you can just rip the thing off.
Actionable Steps to Lead With the Worst
If you’re staring at a problem right now and wondering if you should speak up, here is how you handle the "worst first" approach:
- Verify the damage. Make sure you aren't sounding a false alarm. Spend ten minutes confirming the error.
- Identify the "First Contact." Who is the one person most affected by this? That’s who you talk to first. Not a group. Not a committee. One person.
- Keep the script simple. "Hey, I wanted to catch you before the meeting. I realized the [Project Name] budget is actually $5k over. I’m looking at where we can cut, but I wanted you to know ASAP."
- Watch the body language. Keep it casual. Don't look like you’re walking to the gallows. If you act like it’s a problem to be solved rather than a sin to be punished, they will usually follow your lead.
- Document the fix. Once the informal admission is done, then you follow up with the formal email. "As we discussed, here is the updated plan to address the budget overage." This creates a paper trail of you being proactive.
The most respected people in any industry aren't the ones who never fail. They’re the ones who are brave enough to talk about the failure while the smoke is still in the air. By the time the fire is out, everyone remembers the person who grabbed the extinguisher, not the person who started the blaze.
Admitting the worst first isn't about being a martyr. It’s about being the most honest person in the room. In 2026, when everyone is using AI to polish their communications and hide their flaws, that raw, informal honesty is the only thing that actually builds a brand that lasts.
Stop waiting for the "right time" to share the bad news. The right time was five minutes after you found out. The second best time is right now. Go send that Slack message. Open that office door. Admit the worst, do it informally, and do it first. You'll be surprised at how much lighter you feel once the secret is out of your pocket and on the table.