No Statement at This Time: A Father’s Guide to Saying Just Enough
There’s a moment in every childhood when you realize your father isn’t just a parent—he’s also a communications strategist. Not by training, maybe. But certainly by instinct.
The realization doesn’t come all at once. It builds slowly, over years of carefully worded answers and conspicuous silences.
You ask if you can sleep over at a friend’s: “We’ll see.”
You ask if Santa is real: “What does your teacher say about that?”
You ask why your bedtime can’t be later: “Hey, when was the last time you cleaned your room?”
These aren’t evasions. They’re tactics. Dads, it turns out, are masters of message discipline. They speak only when necessary. They never speculate. They don’t confirm or deny until the facts are in. And when the pressure mounts, when you corner them at the wrong moment, when your timing is off, when you’re clearly fishing for a “yes” without backup, they say something like:
“Let me think about it.”
Dad-speak for: “No statement at this time.”
In retrospect, it was never about secrecy. It was about control. A good father doesn’t rush the message. He doesn’t answer until the stakeholders are aligned. He understands that timing matters, that tone matters, and that you can’t walk something back once it’s said.
This isn’t just parenting. It’s communications.
And for those of us working in media or public relations, the parallels are obvious.
Misalignment? Like when you and your sibling both ask if you’re allowed to go to different sleepovers on the same night. One of you hears, “We’ll figure it out,” the other hears, “Sounds fine to me.” Suddenly, there are two plans in motion, and Dad’s caught managing expectations he never formally set.
Rapid response pressure? Think of blurting out in front of everyone, “Can we go to the waterpark tomorrow?” just as Dad takes a bite of dinner. Eyes turn. The room quiets. You want an answer, fast. And Dad knows whatever he says is going to be treated as binding.
Crisis control? Think of the morning you spilled orange juice on the permission slip, forgot your backpack and realized your field trip was today. You needed a calm voice, not more chaos.
As you grow up, it becomes clear that much of the work isn’t in what you say, but when and how you say it. That truth isn’t always the same as transparency. That measured silence often speaks louder than rushed clarity.
Today, communications professionals juggle far more than household expectations: journalist queries, stakeholder approvals, legal reviews, social backlash. And while tools have evolved, such as media logs, contact histories and real-time coverage monitoring, the principle remains the same: Say only what you need to. Say it clearly. And say it when you’re ready.
Broadsight was designed to support that kind of thinking, giving teams the time, context and coordination they need to respond deliberately, not reactively.
We wanted teams to have structure behind the message: the history of past statements, the context of previous coverage, the ability to coordinate across departments before going public. Not to automate the response, but to support the people crafting it. The ones who know that sometimes, the best answer isn’t a statement. It’s a pause.
So here’s to the fathers who taught us to wait, to listen, and to speak with purpose; who managed expectations with grace; who navigated the daily press conferences of childhood without ever raising their voice.
Happy Father’s Day to the original message managers!
With Broadsight, teams don’t have to rely on half-answers or institutional memory. Every past statement, approval and clarification lives in one place. So when the next question lands at the table, no one has to stall with, “Let me think about it.” They’re already aligned. See it in action at broadsight.ca
