I’m one of those oldies who can’t fib – but people thank me for it

‘This is an actionables and deliverables only meeting. We’re in win-win mode here, with 360-degree empowerment for all stakeholders …” The meeting at the company’s gleaming headquarters was in full flow, and the CEO was knee-deep in meaningless jargon. I was drowning in platitudes. Suddenly a voice called out: “Can someone please tell us what that means in plain English?”

To my horror, that voice belonged to me.

I looked around the conference table: everyone’s face wore an expression of utter shock. I had done the unthinkable, breaching the first rule in the professional code of conduct: don’t rattle the boss.

But then, an odd thing happened: I felt an immense wave of relief. I might have been a bit, er, blunt but

I’d spoken the truth. The CEO was unintelligible and uninformative, and risked turning this crucial meeting into a waste of everybody’s time.

Something even more peculiar happened as we filed out of the boardroom. “Well done for saying what we were all thinking,” a woman whispered. One after another, her colleagues came up and under their breath echoed her sentiment. By the time I’d reached reception, I felt like a hero.

Actually, I was just showing my age. According to research carried out by Brandeis University in America, the oversixties find it harder to fib. Many don’t bother at all, reckoning, according to this recent study, that they would forget what was true and what wasn’t.

Perhaps I’m a little early, as I’ve only just turned 58, but the report rang true. In fairy tales, it’s the little boy who calls out that the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes. But in real life it is the oldie who is more likely to shout: “He’s got his kit off… Watch out!” One reason is that by the time you are middle-aged, you’ve had enough experiences like my company meeting to realise that everyone feels relieved when the real deal is winkled out of jargon-packed, fear-filled presentations. You have seen that the consequences of blunt talk are not head-chopping or careercrashing. Quite the opposite: a bald reality check will be welcomed with tears of joy by just about everyone.

Oleaginous brownnosers may thrive and be richly rewarded in some environments – from boarding schools to Westminster – but the individual who breaks ranks and speaks truth to power always earns the gratitude of those who daren’t.

I’ve noticed that this is as true among friends as among colleagues. Now that I dare tell it like it is – from “He’s just not into you” to “Your bum looks big in that” – I have been included in many an inner circle.

In the worlds of Facebook likes and Instagram followers, where posing is believing and fake is as real as it gets, blunt-speaking can prove a liability: I am a truth-seeking missile who zeros in on your flaws and then, with a few words – “Gosh, did you photoshop that? It doesn’t look like you at all!” – explodes your last particle of self-confidence.

But the friend who speaks the unvarnished truth is the one you rely on for advice. We are the ones who will warn you that you mishandled the row with the teenager and had best apologise; that you still really need to work on your presentation; or that you’ve had too much to drink and shouldn’t drive.

So yes, we outspoken oldies can be awkward, even insufferable. But, to be blunt, we are indispensable.