Serve Your Words Neat
On confidence, clarity, and the courage to stop explaining
Yeah. That’s me. I write emails that are too long. I ask three questions in a single text message and feel a small, private irritation when I get one reply back—usually to the least important question.
Somewhere in my internal monologue lives a quiet but persistent story: people don’t have time anymore. Attention to detail is gone. Reading is optional. Precision is a lost art.
It’s a convenient story. It explains a lot. It excuses more than it should.
And yet, there I was at the 2025 Genius Network Annual Event, listening to Jefferson Fisher and Chris Voss on stage, when a single phrase slipped into the room and refused to leave.
Serve your words neat.
Not as a slide. Not as a punchline. Just… said.
The Pocket
The conversation had been building toward something. Joe Polish asked the question everyone in the room felt, even if they hadn’t named it yet: How do you command respect when you speak—without being a jerk? Jefferson Fisher started in an unexpected place.
Music.
“Find your pocket,” he said. “Like a great drummer. Not too aggressive, not too passive. Everyone in sync. Nobody rushing.”
In German, he explained, they call it finding the beat. When you’re in the pocket, people feel it. You don’t need to force authority. The rhythm carries it.
Then Jefferson moved from rhythm to restraint.
“People respect those who are direct,” he said. “Usually that means saying less.”
He told a story about being a young associate, carefully crafting a six-paragraph email to a CEO. Every word considered. Every argument fortified.
The response?
“thanks.”
No punctuation drama. Capitalization optional.
“You can see insecurity in emails,” Jefferson said. “The longer and more elaborate they are, often the more insecure the writer. Confident people are direct.”
That one landed a little closer to home than I expected.
Ice in the Glass
Jefferson’s third point was about adverbs.
The polite ones. The softeners. The linguistic bubble wrap we add when we’re not quite sure the sentence can stand on its own.
Literally.
Basically.
Essentially.
Actually.
Really.
Very.
Just.
They feel helpful. They feel harmless. Jefferson argued they quietly weaken everything around them. He painted the image—but it was Chris who gave it a name. Chris Voss leaned in, nodded, and translated Jefferson’s point into a metaphor that locked the room:
“Don’t water your words down with a bunch of ice,” he said. “Serve your words neat.”
That was the moment it clicked for me—not just intellectually, but personally.
I know Chris well enough to know we both like our bourbon neat. I even play a very small part in his bourbon, The Difference. Maybe it was just a quick mental bridge—Jefferson in one world, bourbon in another, and Chris instinctively connecting them.
I smiled because I recognized that move. I do it too.
And then Chris added something quieter, but maybe more important:
“Be concise. Show people you comprehend what they’re saying. People can’t get enough of that.”
Then the line that almost slipped past:
“If you’re genuinely curious about them first—if you’re respectful first—they’ll respect you back.”
No dominance. No tricks. No verbal theatrics. Just presence.
Maybe It’s Not Them
Here’s the uncomfortable question that followed me out of the room. What if my belief that “people don’t read anymore” isn’t quite true?
Long emails. Multi-question texts. Over-explained arguments. Maybe they don’t signal thoughtfulness. Maybe they signal hesitation. Maybe they’re the verbal equivalent of ice—diluting the core idea until no one knows what actually matters.
And maybe—this is the harder part—using more words is sometimes just a way to avoid the risk of using fewer.
Because fewer words leave fewer places to hide.
Neat is exposed.
Neat is intentional.
Neat means trusting the weight of the sentence.
Neat is the way I prefer my bourbon.
That’s not a communication tactic.
That’s a confidence decision.
I don’t know if this was a nudge from the universe or just a perfectly timed mirror. But I do know this: the phrase stuck because it challenged a habit I’ve been quietly defending for years. So maybe this isn’t about shorter emails or cleaner texts—though those might be side effects.
Maybe it’s about trusting the listener.
Trusting the reader.
Trusting the pause after the words land.
Finding the pocket.
Keeping the beat.
And believing the message doesn’t need ice to go down smoothly.
🌱Seed Thought: Clarity isn’t created by saying more. It’s created when you trust the core of what you’re saying enough to leave it undiluted.
