The Gift You Don’t Open Right Away

Finding the truth inside hard feedback

I’ve noticed a slight increase in the number of people reaching out to me for “one last call” before the end of the year. It wouldn’t quite qualify as a surge, but it’s definitely a shift—not just in volume, but in who is reaching out and why.

My calendar is usually full of the expected things: project meetings, team conversations, or discussions with people interested in using the work we’re building. That’s normal. But lately, more people have been asking to talk about something else entirely.

Just the other day, someone reached out and I assumed they wanted to discuss an open role on my team. Instead, they came in with a completely different topic. They had just received what they described as their first truly negative end-of-year review.

They were shaken. And it showed.

From their body language alone, it was clear they felt blindsided—surprised, hurt, frustrated. I’ve seen this many times before. When people feel caught off guard by feedback they weren’t expecting, they often get stuck in that initial emotional reaction. And in my experience, that moment—right there—is where a lot of workplace friction and attrition begins.

I once worked for someone who liked to say, “Feedback is a gift.”

It took me a while to appreciate that idea.

My relationship with that person eventually soured, but that phrase stuck with me. There’s truth in it—especially when you think carefully about what it implies.

When someone gives you a gift, it usually comes wrapped. There’s a box. Maybe a ribbon. A bow. The expectation is that you’ll open it immediately and react—ideally with gratitude and enthusiasm.

But until you open it, you don’t actually know what’s inside.

That’s how feedback works. The “gift” is what’s inside the box—but we often get stuck reacting to the wrapping. If it’s messy, clumsy, or poorly presented, it’s easy to reject the whole thing outright. We focus on how it was delivered instead of what it contains.

And like any gift, you’re allowed to choose what you do with it.

When people are blindsided by feedback, they often don’t even try to open the box. They want to throw it back—or leave it behind entirely. My belief is that a better approach is this: put the box away for a bit. Somewhere visible, but not center stage. Give yourself time to breathe before you unwrap it.

That same person who taught me the “feedback is a gift” idea also ran brainstorming sessions where ideas were sometimes dismissed outright—“That’s a stupid idea” was said more than once.

I used to push back and say: don’t reject ideas immediately. Write them down. Ask questions. Then you unpack them.

The same principle applies to feedback.

It’s hard not to react on the spot. But resisting that urge is powerful.

Let me share two experiences that shaped how I think about this.

The first happened before my current role. I was having my usual weekly one-on-one with my manager. She was sitting in a conference room with her laptop connected to a projector. She must have forgotten it was still on, because when I walked in and sat down, I could clearly see an instant message projected behind her.

It read something like:

“I have a meeting coming up with Og. I already feel anxious. I don’t know what it is about him, but I hate having conversations with him.”

I was stunned.

I stayed calm. We went through the meeting as usual. At the end, when she asked if I had any questions, I said yes.

“Why do conversations with me make you feel angry and frustrated?”

She looked like she’d seen a ghost. She accused me—half-jokingly, half-not—of hacking her computer. I explained that her screen had been projected the whole time. She turned around, realized what had happened, and felt understandably embarrassed.

But I told her not to worry. I meant the question.

And to her credit, she recovered quickly and gave me honest feedback—about my communication style, about how I handled certain situations, about gaps she was experiencing in working with me.

I wrote everything down.

The following week, I asked to revisit that feedback. I explained what I had unpacked from it and what I had already tried to change. I asked for more feedback.

I could physically see the tension lift from her shoulders.

We repeated this cycle several times. That feedback changed how I showed up at work—and it made me better.

The second example came from the other side of the table.

I once hired someone internally into a critical role. My manager at the time was strongly opposed to it, and I had to fight hard to make the case. Months later, during a one-on-one, this person looked at me and said:

“I’m disappointed in you. You say you care about people, but you’ve failed me.”

That one hit hard.

My first instinct was to defend myself—to explain the constraints, the context, the things I had sacrificed, even the effort it took to bring them onto the team in the first place.

Instead, I stopped.

I reminded myself: feedback is a gift.

I asked clarifying questions. I listened. I didn’t defend myself. I told them I needed time to unpack what they’d shared—but that I heard them, and I’d follow up.

It wasn’t easy. But it was necessary.

So here’s my advice, for whatever it’s worth:

When you receive feedback—especially unexpected or negative feedback—try to slow down the moment between hearing it and reacting to it. That pause is a superpower.

Listen. Ask clarifying questions. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t counterattack.

Take the box home. Put it somewhere safe. Then unwrap it.

Look for the gem inside—the part that’s true, even if it hurts. Sometimes you won’t find any. That’s okay. You’re allowed to reject feedback that doesn’t serve you. But more often than not, there’s something there worth paying attention to.

Once you’ve found it, follow up. Confirm your understanding. Share what you plan to do differently. Or discuss what you can do together to close the gap.

Feedback isn’t about perfection. It’s about alignment—between how we see ourselves and how we’re experienced by others.

So don’t let the wrapping distract you. Don’t throw the gift away unopened.

Unwrap it—when you’re ready—and see what’s inside.