An old colleague asked me last week, in a message that took him three paragraphs to get to the point: would I be a reference for a job he's applying for?
And he wrote the sentence that did the work: "You're honestly the only person there who really saw my work."
Which is a lovely thing to hear and also a small trap, because I did see his work. That's precisely the problem. He was thoughtful and he cared and he needed more support than that role could ever give him, and I spent a year quietly working around him without ever telling him. I was, in the most polite sense, an obstacle he didn't know about.
So when he asked, I said what people say: "Of course, send me the details." And then I sat with it for a week and felt worse every day.
The three things I noticed
- I wrote out what I could honestly say, and it isn't a recommendation. It's this: he's thoughtful, he cares, he needs a lot of structure, and the role didn't give it to him. Every clause is true. Nobody in hiring reads that and says yes.
- My reason for wanting to say yes has nothing to do with him. Being asked is flattering. And I want to keep being the person he thinks I am — the one who saw his work. That's not generosity. That's me protecting a portrait.
- I nearly did the coward's version: say yes and then give a hedged reference. Warm on the surface, no actual endorsement underneath, and hope the hiring manager reads the room. That version lets me keep being nice while the rejection happens somewhere else, delivered by a stranger. It's the worst of the three options and I was two hours away from choosing it.
What the reading said
I did a reading. The question: should I say yes to being a reference I can't honestly recommend?
The reading didn't weigh the ethics. It asked: who are you protecting?
First answer, the respectable one: him — his feelings, his chances, his dignity. Which is nonsense, because a lukewarm reference is not protection. It's a slower kind of no with my name attached.
Second answer, the true one: me. My reputation as a good guy. My discomfort with being the person who says no. And underneath that, a pattern I've had since I was maybe eleven: I would rather be liked than be accurate, and I've built a career on being the one people feel safe with, which is genuinely useful and also a way of never having to deliver bad news.
Then the reading put the thing in front of me that I'd been avoiding, and it reframed everything: saying no is a favor to him. Because he's applying for a job he might get. If he gets it on the strength of a reference I hedged, he lands in a role that needs structure he doesn't have, with a manager who was told he'd be fine. Two years of that is much crueler than one honest message now. And the version I was avoiding — telling him the truth — gives him something nobody else has given him: specific information about how he's actually seen, which is the only thing that will help him pick the right role.
What happened
I called him. Not a message — a call, because "no" by text is a coward's format and I'd already spent a week being one.
I said: "I'll take the call if you want, but I want to be straight with you first. If they ask me to bat for you, I'd be hedging, because I don't think that role plays to what you're good at. A hedged reference hurts you more than it helps, and I'd rather you had someone who can say yes with their whole chest." Then I named the two things I would stand behind — the actual strengths, not the consolation prizes — and offered to help him find a reference for the rest.
He was quiet for a second. Then he said: "Thank you." And then, which is the part I keep thinking about: "I kind of knew. I just didn't know who to ask."
That's it. He wasn't blindsided. He was alone with a suspicion and needed one person to say it out loud.
Anyway. Being honest cost me almost nothing — a small amount of being liked, which I noticed I didn't miss. And it turns out the awkward version of no, delivered kindly and early, is a completely different object from the no he'd have received three weeks later from a hiring committee, with no explanation attached.
If you're about to say yes because saying no would make you the bad guy — a reference, a favor, a recommendation you don't mean — try a reading. Three numbers. No account. It won't make the call. But it might show you who the yes is actually for, and whether that person needs protecting.
FAQ
Q: Should I be a reference if I can't give a strong recommendation? A: No — and this is one of the rare cases where the honest answer is that clear. If you can't endorse someone, a warm-sounding "yes" is borrowed time that they pay back in a job they're not set up for. Tell them directly, name the strengths you would stand behind, and help them find a reference who can commit. It's a harder conversation that produces a better outcome for both of you. See also: Should I Admit a Mistake Nobody Noticed? The Fix Is Done. The Secret Isn't. — same instinct, different room: protecting a reputation instead of doing the useful thing.
Q: How do I say no without wrecking the relationship? A: Do it by voice, and do it early. Lead with what you'd vouch for, then say plainly what you can't. "I'd stand behind your X and your Y with anyone. I can't be the person who says you'll thrive in this particular role, and I don't want to be the reason a hiring manager gets a lukewarm read on you." Most people already suspect the thing you're about to say. What they don't have is someone who will say it to their face.
Q: Isn't it my job to just answer the questions they ask? A: That's the hedged-reference defense, and it works right up until you imagine being the hiring manager. A reference who answers every question without enthusiasm is saying something — and the applicant pays for it without ever learning what it was. If you take the call, take it as a person who intends to be useful, which sometimes means saying "here's what I'd honestly say" to the applicant first.
Q: How does a reading help with a decision like this? A: It separates the kindness from the self-image. I thought I was deciding whether to help an old colleague get a job. I was actually deciding whether I could tolerate being the person who says no — and my whole professional identity is built on being the person who says yes warmly. The reading named that, and once I could see the yes was for my portrait and not his future, the call took four minutes.