We all know it’s important to be willing to tell clients what they need to hear, even when that may not be what they want to hear. I’ve written before about how to deliver difficult messages so that the communication is positive, productive, and trust-building. Today I want to talk about the ways we humans cleverly talk ourselves out of having these tough conversations in the first place.

A few months ago, I wrote about how to ask for client feedback if you want real feedback, not polite feedback. (CliffsNotes version: you have to create a strong pull for critique.) I also griped about feedback requests being too focused on task rather than relationship, deferring that to another post. This is said post.

Many of you know I’m a fan of improv. A lot of the warm-up games I’ve learned from taking improv comedy classes with friend and colleague Shawn Westfall could be written off by the corporate crowd as silly or meaningless. But the positive reaction I once-again got recently from the engineers and scientists who tried one of them out in a mastery-level workshop of mine has prompted me to take the risk to share it with you here.

I’m a big fan of stories as vivid illustrations of trust-building moments, which is why we have so many in The Trusted Advisor Fieldbook. I’m especially inspired by the “extra miles” stories that highlight the extraordinary ways people find to be of service. Like the story about the advertising staffers who spent 14 weeks living the life of diabetic patients before beginning to create an ad campaign for Type 2 diabetes medication. Or the one about the savvy private wealth manager who once offered free investment planning for a client’s 12- and 14-year-old children. This week’s tip features an executive who earned a client for life by running a race.

I’ve written many times about the importance of making communications personal. I often follow my own advice. And sometimes I don’t. Here’s a tale of a failure on my part, including what I did to attempt to rectify things. Perhaps you’ll find it a useful template (the rectifying part, not the failing part).