I was in a leadership offsite during a role a while back when someone said something that made me physically uncomfortable: "Let's go around the room—everyone share your immediate reaction." The extroverts lit up. The introverts (myself included) quietly began composing entire dissertations in our heads that we'd never get to deliver because by the time we were ready to speak, the conversation had moved on three topics ago.
Here's what nobody tells you about corporate meetings: they were designed by extroverts, for extroverts, in an era when "collaboration" meant being in a room together talking over each other until the loudest voice won. We've kept that model largely intact, even as we've moved to Zoom, even as we've learned more about how different brains actually work, even as we've watched talented people check out of meetings because the format actively works against how they process information.
I'm not saying this to dunk on extroverts—some of my favorite people are extroverts, as the saying goes. But I am saying we've built a system that rewards one cognitive style and penalizes others, then wondered why our "collaborative" meetings often produce mediocre outcomes and leave half the participants exhausted.
The standard meeting format privileges real-time verbal processing. You're expected to hear something, formulate a response, and deliver it—all while others are also talking, often interrupting, building on each other's ideas in ways that feel energizing if you're wired that way and completely overwhelming if you're not. Introverts, people with ADHD, non-native English speakers, anyone who needs processing time—they're all operating with a built-in disadvantage that has nothing to do with the quality of their thinking.
And before you say "well, that's just how business works"—it's not. That's how we've chosen to do business. There's a difference.
I've spent the last few years experimenting with meeting formats that actually work for different brains, and I want to share what's made the biggest difference. Not because I've figured it all out (I haven't), but because even small changes have unlocked contributions from people who'd previously stayed quiet, and the quality of our decisions has measurably improved.
First thing: send the agenda and key questions 24 hours ahead. Not the night before. Not two hours before. A full day. Include what decision needs to be made or what problem you're trying to solve. This sounds basic, but most meetings still operate on the assumption that everyone does their best thinking in the moment. Some people do. Most people don't. Giving people time to think—actually think, not just skim the deck five minutes before—means they show up with considered perspectives instead of half-formed reactions.
But here's where it gets interesting: once you're in the meeting, start with five minutes of silent writing. I learned this from Amazon's memo culture, but you don't need a six-page narrative. Just put the key question on the screen and have everyone write their thoughts for five minutes. No talking. No "building on ideas" yet. Just thinking.
The first time I did this, the discomfort in the (virtual) room was palpable. People didn't know what to do with silence. Someone tried to crack a joke. Another person said "I think better out loud." I held the space anyway. And what happened next changed how I run meetings forever—when we finally started talking, the conversation was completely different. People who normally stayed quiet had already written their thoughts and felt more confident sharing them. The usual dominators had to actually listen instead of just waiting for their turn to talk. We covered more ground in 30 minutes than we typically did in an hour.
Here's another thing that's worked: explicitly separate brainstorming from decision-making. We've gotten into this habit of trying to do both in the same meeting, which creates this weird pressure where people are simultaneously trying to be creative and evaluative. That's hard for everyone, but it's especially hard for people who need to process before they're ready to commit to a position. So now I run generative meetings—where anything goes, we're just exploring—and decision meetings, where we're evaluating specific options. Different energy, different cognitive demands, much better outcomes.
And can we talk about the "anyone have thoughts?" problem? That question, asked to a full room or Zoom gallery, is an extrovert's dream and an introvert's nightmare. Instead, I've started doing direct invitations: "Maya, I know you've been thinking about this—what's your take?" or "Jordan, you're quiet—what are you noticing?" This isn't putting people on the spot (though you have to read the room). It's acknowledging that some people won't jump into a conversational free-for-all but absolutely have valuable things to say.
The other thing I've started doing is offering multiple ways to contribute. Not everyone needs to speak in the meeting. Some people's best thinking happens after, when they've had time to process. So I've normalized the post-meeting Slack message, the follow-up email, the "I've been thinking more about this" conversation. The idea that all valuable contributions happen in real-time during the scheduled hour is just... wrong. And expensive. We're leaving insight on the table because we're attached to a format.
I know what some of you are thinking: this sounds like a lot of work. It is—at first. But you know what else is a lot of work? Having the same conversation three times because people weren't really engaged the first two times. Making mediocre decisions because you only heard from the people comfortable thinking out loud. Watching talented people disengage because meetings feel like performance anxiety instead of actual collaboration.
The truth is, we've been optimizing meetings for speed and the appearance of engagement rather than for actual thinking and inclusive participation. We can do better. Not by adding more meetings (please, no), but by redesigning the ones we have to work for different brains.
What's one meeting format you could experiment with this week? What would happen if you tried silent writing, or sent questions ahead, or directly invited the quiet person to share? I'm genuinely curious what you'll discover.