Where you can elevate your speaking very quickly, I would almost call these quick wins, is by using modifiers with common adjectives. These are simple adjectives that you probably use all the time.
For example, take the adjective interesting:
quite interesting, incredibly interesting.
Or complicated:
a bit complicated, pretty complicated, incredibly complicated.
Using modifiers like this makes your speech sound more natural and gives it a smoother flow. 

I’ve been generally blessed with really good clients over the years.
Some terrific ones. Cooperation smooth. Mutual respect.
But now and then a difficult client comes along.
Usually, if I am honest, I have a gut feeling from the very first meeting. Some red flags are already present. I am quite sensitive and I pick up on those things quickly.
The problem is not whether I see it. The problem is what I do with it.
Sometimes clients come from one company. They come together. Saying no to one of them might be tricky. Sometimes you are in a place where you need clients. Sometimes you cannot fully control who is coming your way.
And then I start reasoning with myself.
Is this person here to teach me something?
Am I to grow from this situation?
Should I become more patient, more understanding, more flexible?
Should I look at this from a different perspective?
I genuinely believe that situations can teach us something. I always try to ask myself what I can learn here.
But there is another side of the coin.
Can I afford micro frictions like this?
Are they draining for me?
Am I using my energy to coach or to guard myself?
Do I want to constantly set the boundaries and choose the frame instead of simply being human in the room?
In the profession I am in, somewhere between trainer and mentor, trust is essential.
You cannot teach somebody who does not want to be taught.
You cannot train somebody who does not want to be trained.
The students with whom I succeeded had one thing in common. They were not submissive. They were not proud to the point of resisting guidance. They were willing.
Willing to be led.
Willing to accept that I might see something they do not yet see.
Willing to assume that my structure and my methods are there for their benefit.
When that willingness is present, everything flows.
But when someone starts questioning your intentions, questioning your methods, even the small elements you insert into the process, it becomes a signal.
Behaviour is a language.
Sometimes that language says, I do not trust you.
And when trust is missing, everything becomes heavier. I start monitoring my tone. I start reinforcing boundaries more often than I would like. I start feeling that I need to prove something instead of simply giving.
I think many of us who work as trainers, mentors, coaches face this question at some point.
With whom do we want to work?
At the end of the day, you cannot force willingness. You cannot create openness in someone who does not want to open up. And the longer I work in this profession, the more I see that alignment matters.
There are situations where saying goodbye might mean financial loss. It might feel uncomfortable. It might feel risky.
But being honest with yourself is sometimes the better course of action.
If you constantly feel that you need to guard yourself, defend your methods, or prove your intentions, it is worth asking whether this is growth or simply misalignment.
These are my reflections. I know many professionals struggle with similar dilemmas.
Sometimes the right decision is not the most profitable one in the short term. But it may be the most sustainable one in the long term.
And in a profession built on trust and willingness, sustainability matters.

I sometimes listen to John Delony.
He’s a counsellor who talks a lot about emotional health, boundaries, and relationships.
To be honest, I can’t listen to too much of it. Other people’s problems and behaviours can feel overwhelming, and I already have quite enough on my own plate.
But I listened to a few episodes. And one thing kept coming back.
He says: 

​The first time I heard it, it caught my attention immediately, probably because it contains the word language.
The second and third time, it stuck with me.

So I started asking myself: what does that actually mean?
If behaviour is a language,  is it worth pausing for a moment and asking an uncomfortable question?:

​​We are always communicating, even when we’re silent.
And very often, behaviour carries a message that sits underneath the words. If you know how to look at it, a lot of things suddenly fall into place.
A few examples that stayed with me:

• Someone says “I care about you” but never shows up. The behaviour says: this is not a priority.
• Someone avoids replying to emails. The behaviour says: I’m uncomfortable engaging or I’m not willing to commit.
• Someone explodes over small things. The behaviour says: I don’t have regulation or safe ways to express needs.
• Someone repeatedly forgets boundaries. The behaviour says: your boundary doesn’t matter to me.

The same applies in professional life.

• Missed deadlines.
• Vague replies.
• Last-minute changes.

That’s usually not busyness.
It’s lack of ownership or lack of clarity.

At some point I thought: all right, this makes sense, but is there a way to work with this that is teachable, usable, and sharp, without turning it into therapy?
That’s how I came across the SHELF framework.
What I like about it is that it helps you read behaviour as language without over-interpreting it. It keeps things grounded, operational, and practical.
When I started applying it to my own situations, I realised something interesting. For me, the hardest part is eliminating excuses. And I have a strong feeling I’m not the only one who struggles with that.
I want to work with this framework more, first of all for myself.
But I also see real value in bringing it into my work with clients.
Not in an emotional way.
In an operational one.

If you feel that this kind of lens, reading behaviour as language, would be useful for you, we can absolutely incorporate it into our sessions.
Just mention it in class.

I have a student I’ve been cooperating with for quite some time. Very early on, I noticed something striking about his communication. Not eloquence. Not fluency.
Responsiveness.
I tend to pick up on these things quickly. And yes, I do compare. Once you’ve worked with someone who is genuinely responsive, the difference becomes impossible to ignore.

Responsiveness is one of those skills that quietly separates people who feel safe and competent to work with from those who create friction, uncertainty, and mental noise. Often without realizing it.
The good news? This is not a talent - well, it can be but it's also a trainable behaviour.

1. It reduces uncertainty instantly
A responsive person closes open loops. Even a brief acknowledgment stops the mind from wandering. Silence invites assumptions; responsiveness shuts them down.
2. It creates a sense of being cared for
You don’t feel ignored, sidelined, or forgotten. You feel seen. That emotional effect is disproportionate to the effort involved.
3. It signals competence and control
Responsiveness tells the other person: I’m on top of this. Not necessarily done but managed. People trust management before they trust outcomes.
4. It protects the relationship
Many conflicts don’t start with disagreement. They start with delays, non-responses, or vague reactions. Responsiveness prevents escalation before it begins.
5. It keeps momentum alive
Projects, decisions, and cooperation slow down dramatically when responses lag. Responsive communicators keep things moving without pushing.

​1. Separate acknowledgment from solution
You don’t need answers immediately. You need acknowledgment immediately.
“Got this. I’ll come back by tomorrow.” works wonders.
2. Make timing explicit
Silence is the enemy. Timeframes are your shield.
If you can’t act now, say when you will.
3. Close loops deliberately
If something is finished, say it’s finished. If it’s pending, name what’s pending. Don’t leave others guessing.
4. Reduce vagueness in replies
Replace:

• “Soon”
  
• “I’ll try”
  
• “We’re working on it”
  

With:

• “By Thursday”
  
• “I’ll confirm by 3 pm”
  
• “Next step is X; update tomorrow”
  

5. Treat responsiveness as respect, not politeness
This isn’t about being nice. It’s about being reliable. That mindset shift changes behaviour fast.

Responsiveness is one of the fastest ways to:

• build trust,
• reduce tension,
• appear competent,
• and make people want to work with you again.

You don’t need better words.
You need better timing, clearer signals, and fewer unanswered questions.
That’s a skill worth honing.

INKA is one of my most popular courses because it ticks the main boxes.
​
First of all, it helps you stay in regular contact with the language; it’s intensive, but it doesn’t take much time. You get the feeling that you’re keeping your communication alive, learning something new, and staying consistent; without overwhelming yourself. And in a busy schedule, that matters.
INKA was designed for busy professionals who still want to develop, but have limited time and limited mental capacity; they can’t always commit to something heavier. INKA is intensive, but in a caffeine-free way.
Over time, I noticed something important; people often appreciate it when I introduce a bit more structure, insight, or direction. Sometimes they don’t have the energy, ideas, or clarity to bring something to the session themselves; and that’s perfectly normal.
That’s why INKA has evolved.
INKA Flow focuses on conversation and feedback; it’s ideal if you want to bring your own topics, talk things through, and receive a short, focused piece of guidance at the end of each session.
INKA Focus is more deliberate, but still light; each session revolves around one micro-insight only. It gives you something concrete to reflect on and a small follow-up task; just enough self-digging to move things forward without overload.
This is the key difference between the two.
In some cases, it’s possible to combine both; but that’s something we’d need to discuss individually.

​When somebody is being vague and your desire is that they wouldn’t be, you can prompt them a tiny bit by using some phrases. I think there are a lot of phrases, but today I’m showing you four that could come in handy when you need to press for more clarity.

​1. Roughly speaking, when / how big / how long?
Use this when you want direction, not commitment.
Works for dates, scope, effort, timelines.

2. What does it look like in practice?
Pulls the conversation out of abstraction and into reality.
Perfect for plans, processes and expectations.

3. Just to get a clearer picture…
A soft entry phrase that lowers resistance.
Add when, what’s included, how this works  then pause.

4. Can you be a bit more specific?
Direct and efficient.
Use it when vagueness starts blocking progress.

​Certainty is one of the hardest things to teach in English.
Not because the concept itself is complex, but because finding the sweet spot between passive, assertive, and aggressive takes time,  especially for Slavic learners.
English carries a lot of built-in politeness.
Markers that help messages land softly.
And this is where confusion starts.
If everything is softened, where does authority live?
And if we remove softness, don’t we risk sounding rude?
So let’s be clear about one thing first:

​The real question is: how do you create that sweet spot linguistically?
Here are a few anchors I work with.

You don’t need long explanations to sound respectful.

• Not assertive / defensive:
  “That’s not really my problem, to be honest…”
• Assertive:
  “That’s not something I can take responsibility for.”

Same boundary. Different dignity.

Assertive language is often shorter but not colder.

• Blunt:
  “No.”
• Assertive:
  “No, that won’t work.”

One extra sentence adds humanity without weakening the message.

You don’t push the message. You stand behind it.

• Forceful:
  “You have to understand this.”
• Assertive:
  “This is how it stands.”

No pressure. No aggression.

You can be polite around the statement, not instead of it.

• Assertive:
  “Thanks for raising this. We’re not changing the scope.”

Gratitude is not a concession.

It can be polite, human, even warm but it never apologises for stating what is.​
And that, in my experience, is the moment when English finally starts to feel adult; not aggressive, not submissive, just grounded.

When someone tells me they “struggle in meetings,” it’s almost never the full 45 minutes. It’s one tiny pressure point - the moment they enter, the moment they need to speak up, the moment someone challenges them, the moment they must summarise or hand over. That’s all.
If you want real progress, stop analysing the entire meeting.
Find the 10 seconds that consistently throw you off.
Once you’ve identified that moment, here’s the practical path forward:
• Write one sentence you want to say in that exact situation.
• Rehearse it out loud once or twice - not the whole meeting, just that line.
• Use it in a low-pressure space first (voice note, friend, mirror).
• Deploy it in the real moment at the next meeting.
• Evaluate only that moment, not the whole call.
This is how we actually improve communication - not by drowning in theory, but by mastering one high-impact micro-moment at a time.
Shrink the target.
Stabilise the moment.
Everything else becomes easier.

It was a small revelation for me to realize that when I argue with people who are not strangers - people I have relationships with, whether close or professional - something strange happens in my body, and in yours as well.

When anger takes over, our brains narrow their focus to the threat.
We shut down empathy, memory, and reasoning.
Our system overrides the prefrontal cortex, and the goal quietly shifts from connection to domination.

In simple terms, when we’re angry, our system is hijacked by a single, goal-driven schema: defeat the threat.

We cannot fully fight that. What we can do is recognize it.
We won’t stop adrenaline or the amygdala, but we can name the state.
That’s where communication becomes a tool.

1. Recognize the Biological Event

Saying something like I’m getting triggered. I need a second acts as a neurobiological clutch - it separates the feeling from the reaction.
This small act of naming recruits reasoning and slows the system down. Even a few seconds of awareness can prevent language from becoming a weapon.

2. Build a Safe Delay

When anger hits, it’s too late to invent the right words.
That’s why it helps to have pre-learned sentences ready - short phrases that buy time without sounding dismissive:

Give me a second, I’m really heated.
Let’s pause for a moment.
I know I sound defensive - give me a moment.

These lines maintain meta-communication and help keep the relationship intact while biology cools down.

3. Manage the Tone

When adrenaline rises, tone becomes the main carrier of meaning.
Even neutral words can sound hostile.
Acknowledging that directly can stop escalation:

I know my tone is sharper but I’m still listening.

This shows self-awareness and signals that the other person shouldn’t interpret sharpness as contempt. It’s a simple way to restore trust in real time.

4. Re-Humanize the Other Person

Anger de-personalizes; the brain treats the other as an obstacle.
So consciously re-humanize through language:

• Use their name as a quiet reminder that this is a human being.
• Replace you or me with we.
• Refer to shared values: We both want this to work. We both care about fairness.

These small linguistic shifts reactivate affiliation circuits - they bring back cooperation, not competition.

Anger can be constructive and can clear the air, but what I find uplifting is that even though we cannot stop biology, we can use language as regulation.
Meta-phrases, pause markers, and repair rituals - they may look small, but they turn a biological reflex into a moment of conscious communication.