Quiet on Set: Formulating Thoughts in Progress

Long before conference rooms, sales presentations, and leadership meetings, there was a Greek god associated with silence.
His name was Harpocrates.
Harpocrates was originally the Egyptian god Horus, but in the Greco-Roman world he became associated with silence, secrecy, and confidentiality. He was often depicted with a finger pressed to his lips, a gesture that came to symbolize silence and restraint.
And I’ve been thinking about that image lately.
Because in a world that constantly encourages us to speak up, make ourselves known, have a point of view, and make sure we’re heard, there is something surprisingly powerful about knowing when not to speak.
I know that because I’ve spent a lot of my career being the quieter person in the room.
Not because I don’t have anything to say.
Because I’m thinking.
Quiet doesn’t mean disengaged.
I’m naturally someone who thinks before I speak. I listen. I process. I let other people have their moment to shine while I take everything in.
For a long time, I wondered if that was a weakness, especially working in a sales-facing role.
There’s a certain expectation that comes with sales. You’re supposed to be confident, outgoing, quick on your feet, comfortable taking up space and making sure your voice is heard.
And while I absolutely believe those qualities can be valuable, I’ve learned that there is more than one way to be successful in sales.
Because being quiet doesn’t mean you have nothing to say. Sometimes it means you’re actually thinking.
When I’m quiet in a meeting, I’m not checked out.
I’m listening.
I’m taking mental notes. Connecting dots. Thinking about something a supplier said three meetings ago and how it might relate to the conversation happening right now. I’m considering the bigger picture and trying to understand what the person across from me actually needs.
I’m formulating.
And there’s value in giving yourself enough time to actually think before responding.
Not every thought needs to be said immediately.
Not every silence needs to be filled.
And not every conversation needs to be dominated.
Sometimes the most valuable thing you can do is listen long enough to understand.
But don’t mistake quiet for incapable.
Here’s the part I think is especially important:
I absolutely can be loud when the moment calls for it.
I can walk into a room and command it. I can speak confidently in front of leadership. I can make a point, tell a story, and hold someone’s attention.
And, not to toot my own horn, but I’ve actually had leaders come up to me after presentations and say:
“OH MY WORD… where did THAT come from?!”
And honestly, I live for that reaction.
Because I’m not constantly in their ear.
I’m not the person who needs to speak in every meeting or make sure everyone knows what I’m thinking at all times.
So when I do get in front of leadership and really speak, there’s a little bit of a wow factor.
They weren’t expecting it.
They weren’t hearing from me every five minutes.
They were listening.
And that, to me, is the real advantage of being intentional about when you speak.
Make people remember the things you said in the moments you DID speak.
I don’t want people to remember how often I talked.
I want them to remember what I said when I did.
The power of restraint
That’s what I find so interesting about the symbolism behind Harpocrates.
Silence wasn’t necessarily about having nothing to say.
It represented restraint.
The ability to hold something back. To be deliberate. To understand that sometimes saying less can carry more weight than saying everything that comes to mind.
And I think that idea translates surprisingly well into business.
We live in a culture that rewards visibility.
"Speak up."
"Be heard."
"Take the floor."
"Make your presence known."
And those are all valuable skills.
But there’s another skill that doesn’t get talked about nearly as much:
Knowing when to listen.
Knowing when to pause.
Knowing when someone else deserves the floor.
Knowing when you need more information before forming an opinion.
And knowing when you finally have something worth saying.
There is power in that restraint.
There is a difference between being heard and being valuable.
I think this is especially important in sales.
Sales is often associated with being persuasive, but the best partnerships I’ve built haven’t come from talking someone into something.
They’ve come from understanding.
Understanding a supplier’s business.
Understanding their goals.
Understanding what matters to them.
Understanding the challenges they’re facing and finding ways to help solve them.
That requires listening.
It requires curiosity.
It requires paying attention to the details.
And sometimes, it requires being willing to sit back and let the other person talk.
When you’re focused on what you’re going to say next, you can miss what someone is actually telling you.
When you’re focused on proving that you know the answer, you can miss the opportunity to ask a better question.
And when you’re focused on being the most impressive person in the room, you can forget that your job is often to make the person across the table feel understood.
That’s where I think quieter people can have an advantage.
We may not always be the most noticeable person in the room.
But we’re often paying very close attention to what’s happening in it.
The people who are overlooked can be a wealth of knowledge.
I’ve also come to appreciate that some of the most knowledgeable people I’ve worked with aren’t necessarily the ones talking the most.
They’re the ones who remember.
They remember the conversation from six months ago.
They remember the problem someone mentioned in passing.
They notice patterns.
They ask questions that make everyone else stop and think.
They don’t necessarily have to prove that they know something because their understanding becomes apparent in the way they approach the problem.
And I think that’s why people like this can make incredibly strong partners.
They listen for what’s underneath the ask.
They think beyond the immediate problem.
They’re less interested in having the answer first and more interested in finding the right answer.
That creates trust.
And in a supplier-facing role, trust is everything.
Being the quieter person can make you a better partner.
Supplier relationships are relationships first.
People want to know that they can trust you. They want to know that you heard them. They want to know that when they bring you a challenge, you’re actually going to think about it, not just give them the fastest answer.
They want a partner who understands their business rather than someone who is simply trying to sell them something.
And that’s where I’ve learned to appreciate my quieter nature.
I don’t need to have the perfect response immediately.
I can take a moment.
I can ask another question.
I can say, “Let me think about that.”
I can go back, process the information, look at the bigger picture, and come back with something more thoughtful.
That doesn’t make me less capable.
If anything, I think it makes me a better partner.
Because when I speak, I want there to be intention behind it.
Maybe we need to stop rewarding the loudest voice.
I don’t think being loud is a bad thing. Some people naturally think out loud. Some people thrive in fast-paced conversations. Some people are incredible at commanding a room, and that is a skill in itself.
But I also think we need to leave room for different kinds of personalities to succeed.
The person who doesn’t immediately jump into the conversation may not be uninterested.
They may be processing.
The person who doesn’t have an answer immediately may not be unprepared.
They may be thinking critically.
The person who doesn’t fight for the spotlight may not lack ambition.
They may simply understand that they don’t need the spotlight to contribute.
And sometimes, the person who says the least in the meeting is the one who walks away with the clearest understanding of what needs to happen next.
I’m learning not to apologize for that.
I used to think I needed to become more like the loudest people around me to be successful.
Now, I’m realizing I don’t.
I can still challenge myself to speak up when it matters. I can still become more comfortable taking the lead. I can still push myself outside of my comfort zone.
But I don’t need to become a completely different person to do those things.
I can bring my own strengths to the table.
Thoughtfulness.
Listening.
Observation.
Pattern recognition.
Intentionality.
And the ability to make people feel heard.
Those are not weaknesses.
They’re skills.
And maybe that’s the real lesson I’ve learned from being the quieter person in the room:
Silence isn’t always the absence of something. Sometimes, it’s where the thinking happens.
Sometimes you’re listening.
Sometimes you’re learning.
Sometimes you’re connecting the dots.
Sometimes you’re formulating the thought that will ultimately matter more than everything you could have said just to fill the silence.
So maybe the goal isn’t to have everyone hear you all the time.
Maybe the goal is to make them really listen when you do.
That’s the kind of presence I want to have.
Not constant.
Not performative.
Intentional.
Because you don’t have to be the loudest person in the room to make an impact.
Sometimes, you just have to be the person who was listening closely enough to know what to say when the moment came.
Quiet on set. Thoughts formulating in progress.
-Malorie Ragsdale, MBA.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed on this website are solely my own and do not reflect the views or opinions of any affiliated organizations, employers, or other entities.



Comments