Adjusting the Variables Without Challenging Their Authority
On our podcast last week, our guest Jason Kilgore outlined a challenge many of us face in our organizations, where executives have already decided to replace team members with AI. The decision was made, final in their minds. They didn’t disclose the variables they used to arrive at that conclusion. They weren’t interested in hearing counterpoints. And they certainly didn’t want to be criticized by subordinates. Jason used a phrase I hadn’t heard in a while, “manage up,” and offered suggestions on how to approach changing their mind once a decision has been made.
I’ve been in those rooms, and I’ve learned something the hard way: once people have chosen a solution, any suggestion to change it feels like criticism—even if it isn’t meant that way. And people hate criticism.
Story 1: The Factory Floor Interview
After being laid off as an operations manager, I interviewed with a large food manufacturer. While waiting, I had a clear view of the production line. Workers were checking products, boxing them, and forklifts were moving pallets.
A man walked out of the big office, noticed me, and asked, “You’ve been watching the line for a while. Any observations?”
At that point, the smart answer would have been: “It all looks good.” Instead, I answered honestly with what I thought I saw.
I said, “It looks like one worker is slowing things down by not moving product quickly enough, while another is slowing things down by over-checking what’s already finished. Maybe if you swapped their roles, the flow might improve. And the forklift path looks inefficient—it’s winding all the way around the line when a small layout change could save time and make the route significantly more efficient.”
What I didn’t realize was that I was stepping into variables I couldn’t see—why certain people were in those positions, what safety protocols or why the shelf and desk at that end of the production floor dictated the forklift’s path, and what trade-offs had already been made. To me, I was offering observations. To him, it sounded like I was criticizing his operation.
I didn’t get the job. The recruiter told me later: “Next time, don’t call the hiring manager an idiot by suggesting he change his operations.”
Lesson learned: Observation without context can feel like criticism if you don’t account for the hidden variables.
Story 2: The Marine Corps Exercise
Years earlier in the Marine Corps, I learned this lesson in a much higher-stakes context.
In an exercise, my security team was assigned to Bravo team (the second-in-command element). We set up a defensive perimeter for the night. Based on the terrain, probability of approach, and the weapons arcs, I placed the teams where they could cover front or rear approaches.
Then the Company Gunny came over and ordered me to change everything, as there is no way they would come up the rocky side. His setup didn’t make sense tactically, but in the Corps, rank outranks logic. I confirmed he was assuming responsibility and followed orders.
When the Alpha team arrived, the Commanding Officer inspected. He quickly saw the problem: our heavy weapons would fire straight across our comms unit if things went hot from my expected direction of attack. He asked me, “What’s the arc of the Mark 19? Is this a problem?” I answered honestly. He pressed further: “How would you attack this hill?” I gave my assessment as a Marine; I would come up the hard way. He agreed, and the current setup would not defend against it.
The CO ordered changes on the spot—essentially confirming my original plan. But to the embarrassed Gunny and Comms officer, my correctness didn’t matter. I had exposed their mistakes. And for that, they made my life miserable afterward.
Lesson learned: being right isn’t enough. If your correction humiliates someone with power, you lose anyway.
The Pattern
People don’t wake up intending to sabotage their company or unit. They make decisions based on what they know, what they’ve been told, and what their gut tells them. Once they lock in, it’s tough to get them to change. Because changing isn’t just about the data—it feels like admitting they were wrong.
This effect is magnified when dealing with senior leaders, founders, or owners. Their name is on the line. The company is, in many ways, an extension of their identity. A challenge to their decision can feel like a challenge to their competence—or even their legacy. It’s not just a business call; it’s personal.
That’s why so many leaders resist revisiting decisions. To them, your input isn’t just new information. It can feel like an attack on their judgment, their authority, or the story they tell themselves about why they’re in charge.
The Epiphany
Here’s the shift I’ve had to make: managing up isn’t about arguing conclusions—it’s about adjusting the variables.
When your boss has already decided, charging at the decision head-on rarely works. The more effective move is to backfill the missing data points, surface overlooked risks, or reframe scenarios in ways that let them self-correct without losing face.
In the factory, instead of declaring what I thought should change, I should have framed it as curiosity: “I noticed the forklift loops all the way around the line—what’s the reason for that setup? Would flipping the desk and shelf in the corner create a straighter path, or is there something I’m not seeing?” That would have opened space for him to explain the hidden variables—or even consider the idea on his own—without feeling criticized.
In the Marines, I had already calculated the probabilities, weapons arcs, and enemy approaches. I saw the flaws instantly—but instead of trying to convince the Gunny he was incorrect, I should have guided him to a different realization. A better move would have been to ask catalytic questions: “What’s our plan if indirect fire comes from that ridge? How do we pivot if the enemy uses the rocky approach? Can we cover multiple avenues of attack from this position?” By asking, not telling, I could have helped him arrive at the same conclusion without making him feel undercut.
In business today, it’s the same skill. The point isn’t to contradict. It’s to adjust the variables in the conversation so the leader sees what you see—and thinks it was their realization all along.
Three ways I’ve found to do this in practice:
- Ask, don’t tell. Pose questions that expose variables (“What would happen if adoption takes longer than expected?”) instead of pointing out flaws.
- Offer scenarios. Show side-by-side models so the decision-maker can choose the stronger path without feeling corrected.
- Anchor in their own words. Frame your input as a continuation of what they’ve already said (“Building on your point about customer retention, here’s another risk to consider”).
The goal is to adjust the equation they’re using—not to tell them they got the answer wrong.
The real art of managing up is preserving authority while improving the math. You’re not there to prove someone wrong—you’re there to make their decision more right.
The Takeaway
People hate change because change feels like criticism. Leaders dislike criticism because it challenges their authority. But organizations make better decisions when someone has the courage—and the tact—to add the missing variables quietly.
So the next time you’re faced with a boss who’s already decided, remember:
- Don’t fight the conclusion.
- Repair the equation.
- Add the variables they didn’t see.
Because once the math changes, the decision almost always does too.
Field Note: When Adjusting the Variables Still Isn’t Enough
Sometimes, even when you frame your input as questions or carefully surface new variables, you’ll still run into stubborn managers who resist change. In those cases, you may need a structured way to anchor alignment.
One tool I’ve found effective is the Outcome Brief—a one-page document that captures what your manager meant (not just what they asked), lays out your planned approach, and defines success criteria upfront. It creates a shared reference point, so if things drift later, you can revisit it together by asking: “What new insight or priority changed our course?”
I’ve written more about this in my article, From Clarity to Autonomy: How the Outcome Alignment Brief Reduces Chaos and Builds Trust. The short version: it reduces friction, strengthens alignment, and gives you leverage when goals shift or decisions wobble.
