Written by Dr. Janine Stichter  |  Behavioral Psychologist, Director of User Experience, Klearcomm.ai

Read this sentence and notice your first reaction: “Let’s revisit this next week.”

Some readers just felt relief — a pause, some breathing room, permission to move on to something else. Other readers felt a small tightening in the chest — a worry that something is wrong, that they’re being managed, that a quiet judgment has been made and they weren’t told what it was.

Same eight words. Two completely different physiological responses. And here’s the thing: neither response is wrong. Both are exactly what the brain is built to do.

As a behavioral psychologist, one of the most consistent patterns I observe is that the human brain does not sit patiently with an unclear message. It fills in the missing information almost instantly, drawing on a private library of past experiences, emotional patterns, and behavioral tendencies that the sender of the message has no access to.

This isn’t a defect. It’s a feature. Cognitive psychology has long established that ambiguity is metabolically expensive — the brain works hard to resolve it quickly so we can keep moving. The trouble is that in a workplace, every person’s library is different. So the same message gets resolved into different meanings, and nobody realizes the resolution happened at all.

That is the root mechanic behind a striking statistic: U.S. businesses lose roughly $1.2 trillion a year to miscommunication, according to research from Grammarly and the Harris Poll. The number is shocking, but the cause is mundane. It’s not bad writers or careless speakers. It’s the gap between sending and receiving — a gap the brain quietly closes on its own.

In my work, I see three patterns show up repeatedly in how people receive workplace communication. They aren’t personality types or labels — they’re tendencies most of us carry to different degrees, and they shape interpretation in real time.

Some receivers, often those who’ve operated in high-stakes or unstable environments, scan first for what might be wrong. An ambiguous message gets read as a warning. “Let’s revisit” becomes “there’s a problem.” The receiver’s response is to brace, prepare, or quietly start gathering defenses — none of which the sender intended.

Other receivers scan first for what to do next. They read messages as action triggers, even when no action was specified. “Let’s revisit” becomes “keep going until we hear otherwise.” These receivers often look productive and decisive, which masks the fact that they may be moving on incomplete information.

A third pattern reads messages first for relational signal. What does this say about how the sender feels about me? “Let’s revisit” becomes “are we okay?” These receivers often need an explicit cue that the relationship is intact before they can engage with the content of the message.

Most people lean into one of these patterns as a default, with the others showing up depending on context, fatigue, and stakes. None is better or worse. But when a sender doesn’t know which pattern is on the receiving end, messages don’t land — they get translated.

The fix isn’t writing longer messages or adding disclaimers to every email. It’s a small upstream shift in attention. Before sending a message that carries any weight — a decision, a delay, a piece of feedback, a change in direction — ask two questions:

  1. What am I actually trying to convey? (Action? Reassurance? Information? Closure?)
  2. How is the person most likely to receive it given what I know about them?

Those two questions, asked consistently, do more to reduce miscommunication than any communication training program I’ve seen. They shift the sender from “my preferred way to say it” to “the most effective way for this person to receive it.”

The $1.2 trillion price tag tends to dominate the conversation, but the human cost is the part I find harder to ignore. When messages repeatedly land the wrong way, people stop interpreting them as communication problems and start interpreting them as character problems. “He’s defensive.” “She’s dramatic.” “They don’t listen.” Once a communication issue has been recoded as a personality issue, it almost never gets repaired.

Closing the gap doesn’t require a personality overhaul on either side. It requires recognizing that the gap exists at all — that the receiver is doing invisible work to make sense of what the sender said, and that work is shaped by patterns the sender can learn to anticipate.

“Let’s revisit this next week” can mean a dozen things. The job of a strong communicator isn’t to write a perfect sentence. It’s to know which meaning the person on the other end is most likely to hear — and to close that gap before the brain closes it for them.

Dr. Janine Stichter is a behavioral psychologist and Director of User Experience at Klearcomm.ai. Her work focuses on the behavioral science of how people send and receive information in professional settings.