The Lie of the Open Door Policy

Your door is open. Nobody walks through it. Here’s why.

Let me guess: you’ve told your team your door is always open.

You’ve said it in all-hands meetings.

You’ve put it in your Slack bio. You genuinely mean it.

And nobody comes through.

Or worse—they come through with softballs. Updates you already knew. Questions they could’ve Googled. Nothing real. Nothing risky. Nothing that actually matters.

So you tell yourself your team must be fine. No news is good news.

If there were problems, they’d tell you.

They won’t.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: an open door is not the same as psychological safety. It’s a gesture. And gestures don’t override what your team has learned about what actually happens when people speak up.

Why the Open Door Doesn’t Work

The math doesn’t favor the messenger. When someone walks through your door with a problem, they’re taking a risk. Best case: you receive it well, and nothing bad happens. Worst case: they’re now associated with the problem. They’re “negative.” They’re “not a team player.” Their candor gets remembered in a way that doesn’t help them. Most people have learned—through experience or osmosis—that speaking up has an asymmetric downside.

Your reactions have already taught them what’s safe. They watched what happened when someone else raised a concern. They saw your face when you got feedback you didn’t like. They noticed who got promoted and who got managed out. Your door being open means nothing if your patterns have taught them it’s not actually safe to walk through.

The power differential is invisible to you. You might genuinely experience yourself as approachable. But to someone three levels down, you’re not just “a person”—you’re a person who controls their livelihood. That reality doesn’t disappear because you’re friendly. It takes active work to counteract.

What I Learned the Hard Way

Early in my leadership career, I had an open-door policy, and I was proud of it. I thought I was approachable. I was warm. I asked questions. I genuinely cared about my team.

Then I lost a key person. The exit interview revealed that they’d been struggling for months, with their workload, with a peer conflict, and with a growing sense that they didn’t matter. None of it had ever reached me.

I asked why they hadn’t said anything.

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” 🫣

That sentence broke something in me. I had created an environment where a talented person chose to leave rather than risk being seen as “a problem.” My open door was a lie I told myself so I wouldn’t have to look at what I’d actually built.

What Actually Creates Safety

Go to them. Don’t wait for them to come to you. Walk around. Have 1:1s that aren’t status updates. Ask specific questions: “What’s the hardest part of your job right now?” “What’s been frustrating you that you haven’t mentioned?” “If you could change one thing about how we work, what would it be?” Make it easy to tell you things by actively inviting it.

React well to bad news. Publicly. The team is watching. When someone brings you a problem, your reaction teaches everyone else what happens when you’re honest with this leader. Thank them. Visibly. Don’t shoot messengers—canonize them. Make it clear that surfacing issues is valued, not punished.

Close the loop. If someone tells you something and nothing changes, you’ve just proven it wasn’t worth the risk. Even if you can’t fix the thing, tell them what you did with the information. “I raised this with leadership.” “I don’t have a solution yet, but I haven’t forgotten.” “Here’s what changed because you said something.” People keep talking when they see their words land.

Admit your own mistakes. First. Vulnerability from the top creates permission. When you say “I got that wrong,” you make it safe for others to be imperfect. When you pretend to have all the answers, you teach everyone to pretend too.

Watch for silence. The most dangerous signal isn’t conflict—it’s quiet. If meetings are too smooth, if there’s never pushback, if everyone agrees immediately, you don’t have alignment. You have fear. Dig into the silence. That’s where the truth is hiding.

A Diagnostic

Answer honestly:

• When was the last time someone disagreed with you in a meeting?

• When was the last time someone brought you bad news before it became a crisis?

• When was the last time you learned something about your team’s experience that surprised you?

• When was the last time you said “I was wrong” in front of the team?

If you’re struggling to remember, your door isn’t as open as you think it is.

Your Move

This week: Pick one person on your team. Someone you haven’t connected with in a while. Ask them directly: “What’s something you think I should know that you haven’t told me?” Then shut up and listen. Don’t defend. Don’t explain. Just receive.

That one conversation will teach you more about your culture than any engagement survey ever will.

The open door isn’t the point. What people feel safe saying when they walk through it—that’s the point.

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If this hit close to home, good. That’s the point. Leadership isn’t about being liked—it’s about building something where people can tell you the truth. Even when it’s uncomfortable.