I was reviewing a colleague’s presentation draft when I noticed something curious. She had written, “I just think we should maybe consider this approach,” in a slide note, which she planned to say aloud. This was a senior consultant with fifteen years of experience, presenting a recommendation she had spent weeks developing. Yet her language suggested she was tentatively floating an idea she had not quite thought through. When I mentioned it, she looked surprised. She had not noticed the hedging. It was simply how she spoke. And that is precisely the problem. Certain words have become so embedded in professional speech that we use them reflexively, without awareness of what they communicate beyond their literal meaning. They slip into emails, presentations, and conversations, quietly shaping how others perceive our authority and conviction.
The words themselves are unremarkable: maybe, just, actually, obviously, whatever, literally, basically. None of them are inherently problematic. Each serves legitimate communicative functions in the right context. But they share a common feature. They modify the force of what we are saying. They create distance between us and our statements. They signal something about our relationship to our own claims.
Consider “just.” In pragmatic terms, it functions as a minimizer. “I just wanted to follow up” suggests that following up is a small thing, barely worth mentioning. “I just have a quick question” frames the question as minor, undemanding. This can be useful. It softens requests, manages social relationships, and signals that you are not imposing. When you genuinely want to minimize something, when the social context calls for deference or when you are asking for something that might inconvenience someone, “just” does valuable work. The difficulty arises when you use it habitually, in contexts where minimizing undermines your purpose. “I just think we should reconsider the timeline” makes your concern sound trivial. “This is just my opinion, but…” preemptively diminishes what follows. “I’m just the project manager” suggests your role is less important than it is. In each case, you are asking to be taken less seriously than you might intend.
“Maybe” operates differently. It signals epistemic uncertainty, a hedge against being wrong. “Maybe we should explore other options” leaves room for doubt. This is appropriate when you genuinely are uncertain, when you are brainstorming, or when you want to invite others into the decision without foreclosing alternatives. Uncertainty can be intellectually honest. It can create space for dialogue.
But when you say, “Maybe this approach would work better,” about a recommendation you have carefully analyzed and believe in, you are undermining your own expertise. You are inviting others to dismiss your conclusion as speculative. If you have done the analysis, if you have grounds for your recommendation, “maybe” signals that you do not quite trust your own judgment. Or worse, it signals that you do not expect others to trust it.
“Actually” and “obviously” function as what linguists call discourse markers. They manage the flow of conversation and signal relationships between ideas. “Actually” often introduces a correction or contrast. “Obviously” signals that something should be self-evident. Both can serve useful purposes. “Actually, the data shows the opposite” efficiently signals that you are about to contradict a previous claim. “Obviously, we need to stay within budget” can reinforce shared understanding.
The problem emerges in how these words position the speaker relative to the listener. “Actually” can sound condescending, as if you are correcting an error the listener should not have made. “Obviously” can be even worse. It implies that what follows is so clear that anyone who does not already see it is missing something basic. When you say, “Obviously, we should prioritize the client deadline,” you are not just stating a priority. You are suggesting that this priority is self-evident, and anyone who questions it is being obtuse. I have noticed that “obviously” often appears in situations where things are not obvious at all. A manager says, “Obviously, quality is our top priority,” in a meeting where the team has been asked to cut corners to meet a deadline. A consultant says, “Obviously, we need more data,” when the client has already expressed frustration with analysis paralysis. The word is doing rhetorical work, trying to create consensus by asserting that consensus already exists. But it rarely convinces. Instead, it irritates, because it dismisses legitimate disagreement as incomprehension.
“Whatever” and “literally” have different trajectories. “Whatever” signals disengagement or dismissal. In casual conversation, it can be playful or resigned. In professional contexts, it almost always reads as unprofessional. “Whatever approach you prefer” sounds indifferent. “We can do it whatever way” suggests you do not care about the outcome. Even when you intend it neutrally, it communicates that you have checked out of the conversation.
“Literally” has been so overused for emphasis that it has largely lost its literal meaning. When someone says, “I literally died laughing,” no one believes they died. The word has become an intensifier, a way of saying “really” or “truly.” In professional communication, this creates a credibility problem. If you say, “This is literally the most important project we have,” you are using “literally” figuratively, which undermines the precision you are trying to convey. It signals that you reach for hyperbole, that your language cannot be taken at face value. “Basically” is perhaps the most insidious of these words because it sounds like it is clarifying when it is actually oversimplifying. “Basically, we need to increase revenue” reduces a complex challenge to a truism. “The problem is basically a communication issue” dismisses other dimensions of the problem. When you say “basically,” you are signaling that you are about to simplify, which can be helpful if your audience needs a high-level summary. But it can also signal that you have not thought through the complexity, or that you are glossing over details that matter.
What makes these patterns particularly interesting is how they intersect with power and gender. Research on workplace communication has consistently found that women use hedging language more frequently than men, and that they are penalized for it differently. A woman who says, “I just think we should consider this,” is often perceived as uncertain or lacking confidence. A man who uses the same language may be perceived as collaborative or thoughtful. This is not because the words mean different things, but because they are interpreted through existing assumptions about authority and competence. There is a double bind at work. Women who speak directly without hedging are often perceived as aggressive or abrasive. Women who hedge are perceived as uncertain or unqualified. Men face less severe versions of this bind, but it exists for them as well, particularly for men in less powerful positions or men whose communication style does not match masculine norms. The words themselves are not gendered, but the social consequences of using them are shaped by gender, along with race, age, and organizational position.
This raises a practical question. If these words can undermine credibility, should we simply eliminate them from professional communication? The answer is more nuanced than that. The problem is not the words themselves. It is using them unconsciously, in ways that work against your communicative goals. There are contexts where hedging is appropriate and even strategic. When you are genuinely uncertain, saying “maybe” is more honest than false confidence. When you are making a request that might inconvenience someone, “just” can soften the imposition without diminishing the request’s importance. When you are brainstorming or inviting input, tentative language creates space for others to contribute. The key is intentionality. You should know what these words are doing pragmatically and choose whether that effect serves your purpose.
I have learned to notice when I use these words and ask myself whether I mean to hedge. Sometimes I do. If I am proposing an idea I have not fully developed, “maybe” signals that I am thinking aloud rather than making a firm recommendation.
If I am asking a colleague to review something, “just” acknowledges that I am asking for their time. But if I am presenting a conclusion I have confidence in, if I am making a recommendation I believe the organization should follow, I have learned to state it directly. Not “I just think we should maybe consider changing our approach,” but “I recommend we change our approach.” This is not about sounding more confident than you feel. It is about aligning your language with your actual level of confidence and expertise. If you have done the work, if you have the knowledge, if you have grounds for your position, your language should reflect that. Hedging when you do not need to hedge does not make you sound thoughtful. It makes you sound unsure. And in professional contexts where credibility matters, where you need others to trust your judgment and act on your recommendations, unnecessary hedging has costs. The challenge is developing awareness of your own patterns. Most of us do not hear ourselves using these words. They have become invisible, part of the background noise of how we speak. Recording yourself in a meeting or presentation can be illuminating, though uncomfortable. You hear the “justs,” “maybes,” and “basicallys” that you did not notice in the moment. You hear how they accumulate, how they shape the overall impression of certainty or uncertainty, authority or tentativeness.
What you do with that awareness depends on your context and goals. In some environments, direct communication is valued and hedging is penalized. In others, particularly in cultures that value indirectness and relationship management, hedging serves important social functions. The point is not to adopt a single style, but to understand what your language is communicating beyond its literal content, and to make conscious choices about whether that serves your purpose.
These seven words are not the enemy of credible communication. Unconscious, habitual use of them is. When you know what they do, when you use them intentionally rather than reflexively, they become tools rather than habits. And that awareness, that capacity to hear what your language is doing pragmatically and not just semantically, is what separates communicators who are heard from those who are merely speaking.
The post Seven words that quietly damage credibility, by Ruth Oji appeared first on Vanguard News.
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