Several years ago, I had to tell an engineer that their performance was unacceptable. This is a conversation I’ve had several times over my career as a manager, and it’s never an easy conversation. However, this one was harder than most, and it took me a while to understand why.

I inherited the engineer when I joined the company. Their work had real problems, and senior leadership had lost confidence in them. I could see that part right away. What I didn’t see at first was that for the last few years, this engineer received “exceeds expectations” on their performance reviews. They were also often publicly praised for their work in front of the entire company. So, the formal signals this engineer had received for years were positive. The concerns everyone above me seemed to share had never made it into those signals.

So, from the engineer’s side, the story made no sense. A new manager shows up and says your work is unacceptable, while people more senior than that manager still seem to think you’re doing fine. Who would you believe?

Picture a visit to a new doctor. The doctor tells you your blood pressure is dangerously high and you need to immediately make several lifestyle changes. Then, on the way out, the head nurse you’ve known for years pats you on the shoulder and says you look great. Which message do you carry home? Most of us carry home the comfortable one. We aren’t being foolish. It’s simply what we wanted to hear, and someone credible said it.

That was the engineer’s situation. They believed they still had leadership’s confidence, and as long as they believed that, my feedback was one opinion against several.

So, I did three things.

First, I told the engineer directly and plainly where things stood. I didn’t soften the message and said it clearly with no ambiguity.

Second, I went to the senior leadership team and made the case that they needed to give the same feedback directly, and that they needed to stop acting as a separate source of career direction for this person. This was the uncomfortable part. Nobody enjoys hearing that their kindness is causing harm. However, mixed messages let someone keep walking toward a cliff because everyone is too polite to point at it.

Third, I put an improvement plan in place, with a contingency plan ready if it didn’t work. Both plans matter. The improvement plan tells the person you believe they can turn it around. The contingency plan keeps you honest with yourself and the business if they can’t. Having only the first one is hope. Having only the second one is paperwork for an exit.

Once the messages lined up, things changed. The engineer became responsive and started to improve. My manager sent me a short note afterward: “Kudos for all the energy and work you’ve put into [their] performance. Thank you.” I appreciated it, but the engineer deserves most of the credit. They did the hard part once they finally had a clear target.

I’ve carried a few habits out of that experience. I try to align the leaders before the hard conversation, not after, by finding out whether everyone with influence over someone’s career would say the same thing. If they wouldn’t, that’s my first job. I also treat silence as a message. When leaders have concerns and keep them to themselves, the person hears “everything’s fine,” and that’s the wrong message delivered by saying nothing. And I write it down, because a glowing review that doesn’t match reality is a trap for the next manager and, worse, for the person being reviewed.

If someone on your team is struggling, ask yourself how many versions of the truth they’re hearing. If the answer is more than one, the kindest thing you can do is make it one.