"How Are You?" Is a Lie - A Field Guide to Honest Communication

When I was teaching at the Air Force Academy, every day was Groundhog Day with a uniform on. I'd walk across campus and get hit with the same four words from cadets, leadership, coworkers, the random guy from the gym - didn't matter. "Good morning, ma'am, how are you." Nobody stopped for the answer. Not once. They said it while walking past me at a brisk, purposeful, Air Force-approved pace. I said something back while walking past them, and we both kept moving like the question was just a sound effect, like a car alarm you've learned to tune out.

So one day, for reasons I cannot fully defend, I decided to mess with the simulation. Someone hit me with "good morning, ma'am, how are you," already three steps past me, and instead of the standard "good, you?" I said, "not so great, you?"

The results were, frankly, a great social experiment. Most people didn't even break stride. A few turned around with the exact face you'd make if a vending machine started talking back - pure confusion, like I'd glitched the system. And then a handful actually stopped. Actually said "wait, what's wrong?" - like I'd said a real sentence, because I had.

I ran the bit for a while just to see who'd bite. Then I flipped the whole thing and started asking other people how they were and actually waiting there like a weirdo for the real answer. And people started thanking me. Not for anything dramatic, but for the fact that somebody stood still long enough to let them say the true thing instead of the scripted one.

This is what honest communication actually looks like - not a dramatic confession, just one true sentence instead of an automatic one.

Why Vague Answers Are a Form of Lying

"How are you" stopped being a question sometime around when we all agreed to stop meaning things we say to strangers. It's choreography now. Fair enough - nobody has the bandwidth for a real answer from every human they pass in a hallway. This isn't about sobbing to the mailman.

But that same autopilot leaks into moments where the question is actually real. Somebody asks if you're genuinely okay with a plan, or if something bothered you, and you answer with the same reflex you'd use on a stranger - even though this time, someone's actually waiting on it to decide what to do next. They can't respond to what you never told them. They just take "fine" at face value and keep going, same as every cadet who blew past me on a Tuesday.

That's the quiet cost of being vague: it's not neutral. It's a small, socially-acceptable lie, and it trains the people around you to stop trusting your "I'm fine" at all.

Try This ShiFt: The Groundhog Day Test

The next time somebody sends a pleasantry your way, swap the automatic answer for one true word. Here's the script:

• Instead of "good, you?" try "honestly, exhausted" or "rough morning, but I'll take it."
  

• Instead of "no worries" when there are worries, try "I'm a little annoyed, but I'm okay" or "I need a minute, but I'm not mad at you."
  

• Instead of "sounds good" when it doesn't, try "that doesn't quite work for me, can we find another time" or "I'd rather not, but thanks for asking."
  

• Instead of "I'm fine" when you're not, try "not really, but I don't want to get into it right now" or "today's been rough, I'll explain later."

  
  

None of these are confessions. They're one honest sentence instead of one automatic one - that's the entire shift.

Then watch what happens. Most people will keep walking, and good - that was never the point. A few will look at you like you short-circuited. And every so often, somebody actually stops, waiting for someone to hand them permission to be a real human for four seconds.

This kind of small, doable shift is exactly what shows up every week in ShiFt Happens - my newsletter where I break down one honest habit at a time. Get it in your inbox →