In the workplace, there’s often an unspoken pressure to be louder, more social, and more ‘visible.’ But as a quieter person, I’ve come to embrace the fact that not everyone thrives on constant chatter or group activities. Recently, my manager pulled me aside to give me some very positive feedback about my work so far, but in amongst the good news he mentioned some feedback from my colleagues. He described me as ‘quiet’ and suggested that I should ‘come out of my shell’ more – implying that there’s something about my quieter nature that needs fixing.
This experience made me reflect on how being quiet is frequently misunderstood. It’s often seen as a flaw or a lack of participation, when in reality, it’s simply a different way of engaging with the world. I’m not shy, weak, or scared; I just operate in a quieter, more reflective way. This is definitely largely due to my speech and language difficulty and the anxiety living with it brings; with family and close friends, I can be a lot more talkative and confident socially. But it is also just part of my personality, part of who I am, and this approach brings its own set of strengths which are often overlooked.
Being quiet allows me to be highly observant. I notice things that others might miss – small details, patterns, and nuances that often lead to deeper insights or more thoughtful solutions. I’m not the loudest in the room, but that doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. Quite the opposite: I’m actively listening, absorbing information, and analysing situations before speaking. This helps me make well-considered decisions, which is a strength I’m proud of.
I also care deeply about the quality of my work. While some might thrive on multitasking and frequent conversation, I prefer to focus on getting the job done, and done well. My attention to detail and my desire to meet high standards are a direct result of my quieter nature. I’m not distracted by noise or drawn into endless discussions – I’m simply focused on doing my job to the best of my ability.
It’s important to note that being quiet doesn’t mean I’m antisocial or uninterested in connecting with my colleagues. I enjoy meaningful conversations and understand the importance of building relationships at work. I regularly greet my team, check in with them, and engage in conversations about both work and personal topics. However, I don’t feel the need to fill every silence with small talk. I’m not disengaged; I’m just more selective about when and how I participate in conversations.
I also want to challenge the misconception that being quiet means being passive or lacking assertiveness. When needed, I’m fully capable of standing up for myself and expressing my opinions clearly, and I have mounts of confidence to do things alone. My quieter demeanour doesn’t make me any less confident or competent. It’s simply a different way of interacting with the world – one that prioritises thoughtfulness over constant expression.
One of the most frustrating aspects of this feedback is the assumption that I need to change to fit a more extroverted mould. It seems like workplaces often value extroversion – the people who are always in the middle of the action, chatting and networking. But this focus on extroverted behaviours can overlook the strengths that quieter individuals bring. I wish there was more acceptance of different personality types in the workplace. We all have unique contributions to make, and introversion is not a flaw that needs to be fixed.
In fact, being quieter often makes me a better team member. I’m hardworking and dedicated, preferring to get on with the task at hand rather than being distracted by the constant hustle and bustle. I care deeply about my work, and my ability to stay focused in a noisy environment is a testament to that. My approach may not be particularly noticeable, but it’s effective – and I believe that’s something worth respecting.
Ultimately, there’s no one right way to contribute in the workplace. Some people bring energy and enthusiasm through conversation and collaboration, while others, like me, bring a quiet focus, deep listening skills, and analytical thinking. Both are valuable, and both deserve to be recognised equally.
It’s interesting how people never say, ‘you’re so loud’, in the same way they comment on someone being quiet. If you were to ask someone why they talk so much, it would likely be seen as rude or offensive, yet calling someone ‘quiet’ and questioning why often gets treated like neutral or even helpful feedback. It creates a double standard where quieter individuals are subtly pressured to change, while louder behaviours are more readily accepted, even celebrated. This reveals an imbalance in how different communication styles are valued, with quietness often unfairly cast as a flaw, while more extroverted traits are normalised.
I appreciate my manager’s intention in giving feedback, but I don’t believe I need to ‘come out of my shell’ to be a better team player. It isn’t a ‘shell’ in any case, it is just who I am. My quieter strengths – my focus, my careful listening, my ability to observe and think critically – are just as valuable as the more outwardly visible ones. It’s time we embraced the diversity of personalities in the workplace and recognised the power of being quiet.
At the end of the day, I’m at work to get the job done and get paid, not to make friends. While building relationships with colleagues is important for a healthy work environment, it’s not my primary focus. I’m there to do my work to a high standard, contribute meaningfully, and meet the goals of my role. If friendships naturally form along the way, that’s great, but I don’t believe it’s necessary to constantly socialise or engage in casual conversation to prove I’m a good team player. My professionalism and work ethic speak for themselves.
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