The Executive Buzzword Series: What Is Executive Presence?

by Jewel Quackenbush, MCC

There I was, sitting in a glass conference room, the kind I’ve always called a fishbowl.

You know the kind. Everyone can see in, no one can really see you. And what do we do with fish? We stare at them.

That’s what it felt like that day.

On the other side of the table, a well-meaning manager was delivering my annual review. They were using all the right corporate phrases, checking all the right boxes. I nodded politely, until they landed on the one line that still makes my stomach tighten whenever I hear it.

“You’re doing great work, but you need to work on your Executive Presence.”

I remember thinking, What does that even mean?

Was it my voice? My hair? My confidence? My posture?

Did I not look “executive” enough, sound “executive” enough, or project “executive” enough?

In that moment, I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d ever been inside that fishbowl.

How many of us have sat through a 360 review or an annual evaluation and heard those same words , vague, heavy, and laced with expectation?

“Executive Presence” has become one of the most overused , and misunderstood, phrases in leadership today.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being a development goal and became a diagnosis.

A quiet way to say, “You’re not quite enough.”

What Executive Presence Really Is

Let’s bring this buzzword back home.

Executive Presence has been defined as a blend of gravitas, communication, and appearance. It’s what makes others trust your leadership, listen when you speak, and believe you can handle complexity with calm.

Those definitions are useful , but incomplete.

To me, Executive Presence is the visible reflection of your inner alignment.

It’s when confidence, clarity, and conviction meet in the middle of your humanity. It’s not an act you perform; it’s an energy you project.

Executive Presence isn’t loud. It doesn’t stomp into a room demanding attention. It doesn’t humiliate others into silence. It walks in with quiet certainty and invites others to rise to that frequency.

It’s the art of believing in yourself so deeply that others can safely believe in you, too.

And yes, I often say it this way, Executive Presence makes you a “con man,” but without the con.

Because what you’re really doing is transferring confidence, not deception. You’re allowing people to buy what you’re selling , whether that’s a vision, a project, a purpose, or themselves.

When Presence Becomes a Weapon

Here’s where we need to talk about the misuse.

In recent years, I’ve seen Executive Presence turned into a weapon of mass discouragement.

Leaders, directors, and managers (notice I didn’t say “bosses”) sometimes wield it like a gavel:

“You’re smart, but you lack Executive Presence.”

And then they move on , no explanation, no guidance, no example.

When someone hears that, it doesn’t land as feedback; it lands as failure.

It doesn’t say, You can grow into this. It says, You’ll never be this.

If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that phrase, hear me clearly: you were never lacking worth, only direction.

And if you’ve ever used that phrase to critique another human being, pause for a moment. Ask yourself if you’ve modeled what you’re measuring. Because if you’re telling someone they lack Executive Presence, you’d better make sure you possess it first.

Leaders who truly have presence don’t shame people into silence; they coach them into confidence. They don’t use ambiguity to feel superior; they use clarity to make others stronger.

So, How Do You Build Executive Presence?

Let’s take this out of the clouds and into your hands.

If you want to begin strengthening your Executive Presence today, here are three simple places to start:

1. Rehearse Confidence.

Confidence is a muscle, not a miracle.

If you’re preparing for a presentation, a speech, or a crucial conversation ,rehearse it.

Record yourself, play it back, and refine your delivery. When your body already knows the rhythm, your mind can relax.

2. Refine Your Eloquence.

The words we choose shape the way others experience us.

Read more. Listen to great communicators. Use language tools like Grammarly, Speechify, or even read your emails aloud before sending them.

Eloquence isn’t about using big words ,it’s about choosing the right ones, the ones that align with your message and your values.

3. Respect the Room.

Your body speaks even when your mouth doesn’t.

Pay attention to your posture, your presence, and your pace.

Stand or sit with openness ,not arrogance. Make eye contact. Pause when it matters. Presence lives in the spaces between words.

Executive Presence isn’t about hierarchy; it’s about harmony.

It’s what happens when your confidence, your communication, and your character are in alignment.

It isn’t taught through shame. It’s cultivated through trust.

And when you embody it, authentically, humbly, and consistently , the room feels it.

Because true Executive Presence doesn’t say, “Look at me.”

It says, “We’ve got this.”

I was too late.

The call came at work, shattering the rhythm of my day. Just yesterday I had spoken with my friend, someone I had grown up with, one of my partners in crime. Someone who pushed me to dream bigger. Someone who sat with me when I cried into my Cheerios for whatever reason I had been hurt or disillusioned at the time. They had asked me to come by. I heard something in their voice, a heaviness, but I begged off. I told myself I was tired. I told myself tomorrow would be fine.

But tomorrow never came.

I rushed to the hospital, only to be met by their mother, inconsolable in the hallway. I could not bring myself to go into the room to say goodbye. I left that day carrying a weight that never really left me, the shame of being too late, the regret of not showing up, the grief of knowing I would never again laugh with the person who helped shape me.

Not only did I not get closure, I never said I love you. I never thanked them for everything they had poured into me, all the ways they lifted me when I could not see the way forward. That is what I carried home with me that day. That is part of the pain.

I never spoke about it. I buried it instead. And it was not until well into my forties that I realized how that unresolved pain had quietly woven itself into other parts of my life, in how I showed up for others, in the moments I pulled back instead of leaning in, in the ways I let exhaustion win over presence.

We have all been there.

The sting of a breakup that echoes in how we show up at work. The disappointment of being passed over for a promotion you worked tirelessly for, leaving you doubting your own worth. Even a financial blunder like a stock tip gone sideways that cost you your retirement savings can spiral into self judgment that you then project onto the people around you. And perhaps the most devastating of all, the sudden death of a loved one, especially the unimaginable loss of a child, can feel crippling, freezing you in grief and making it nearly impossible to move forward.

The circle of pain is real. It does not just stay in one corner of your life. It ripples outward into leadership decisions, relationships, even the way you talk to yourself.

The Loops We Do Not Notice

Pain creates loops. Left unchecked, those loops become cycles that replay the same message: you are not enough, do not try again, play it safe. Like grooves on a record, they keep playing long after the moment of pain has passed.

Pain also freezes you in time and renders you immobile. You may keep moving on the outside, but inside, a part of you is stuck in the exact moment where the hurt first took root.

And here is the thing, if we do not interrupt those loops, they do not just stay with us. We end up passing them on, to our teams, our partners, our children.

The Emotional Garbage Can

I call it the emotional garbage can. Because that is what we sometimes do with the people closest to us. We take what we are carrying, our anger, our shame, our contempt, our frustration, even our disgust, and we dump it onto them. Not because they caused it, and not because they deserve it, but because we refuse to interrupt the pattern.

When we are stuck in the circle of pain, we often do not know how to do it differently. And because our friends and family are safe places, we sometimes take advantage of that safety in ways that are not always fair and not always right.

Leaders do this too. A tough board meeting turns into sharp words for the team. The stress of bills piling up shows up as irritability at home. It is not intentional, but it is impactful.

What the Brain is Doing

Neuroscience reminds us why this happens. The amygdala, the brain’s alarm system, fires fast and hot when pain is triggered. Logic takes a back seat to survival mode. The limbic system holds on to hurt because remembering pain once protected us. But in modern life, what once kept us safe can keep us stuck.

Breaking the circle of pain is not about denying it. It is about interrupting it. Sometimes in big ways, sometimes in the smallest shifts.

Name it: Say out loud, “I am short because I feel dismissed.” Naming it takes away its grip. Pause before you pass it on: That moment between trigger and response is where leadership lives. Even one breath can reset your nervous system. Shift the input: Change what you feed your brain. Listen to an uplifting podcast, step outside, pick up a real book instead of scrolling endlessly. Tiny changes can interrupt deep grooves. Let others in: Depression and pain often thrive in silence. Invite someone into your space. Call a friend. Share a meal. Even one moment of connection can loosen the circle’s hold. Rewrite the loop: Ask, “What do I want this pain to teach me, instead of trap me.”

Unaddressed pain does not disappear, it leaks. And in leadership, leaks are costly. The circle of pain can silently shape culture, decision making, and trust.

And here is the hard truth: if you lead people, your pain is not just yours. If you do not face it, you will hand it to your team. And they will carry it for you, sometimes in ways that wound their confidence, their creativity, and their trust in themselves.

As the Tibetan proverb reminds us, “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.”

The circle of pain does not end by pretending it is not there. It ends when we face it, feel it, and choose differently. It ends when we stop using the people we love as emotional garbage cans for our anger, shame, contempt, frustration, or disgust. It ends when we take responsibility for breaking the pattern.

That is how we lead with integrity. That is how we protect the people we love. And that is how we stop pain from becoming someone else’s inheritance.

The Patient

Recently, a relative shared their experience. They had been tracking symptoms for months, finally secured a hard-to-get specialist appointment, and arrived hopeful. From the start, the visit went wrong.

When they began explaining their symptoms, the physician glanced at their watch, seemed to make up their mind almost immediately, ordered a battery of blood tests, and left the room without asking deeper questions. Before the patient could even finish sharing, the encounter was over.

The deeper sting came at the front desk. When this young patient asked, “What are these tests for?” the receptionist curtly replied, “If I told you, would you even know?”

That dismissive answer only compounded their apprehension. This was not a patient questioning whether the tests were necessary. This was a patient asking, as so many do today, “Can I afford this, will my insurance even cover it?” And even beyond the financial worry, patients have a right to know why specific tests are being ordered and how those tests connect to the symptoms they presented in the first place. To be brushed off in that moment, whether from ignorance or burnout, was not only unprofessional, it was dehumanizing.

For a young person already hesitant to seek medical care, to gather the courage to see a physician, and not just any physician but a specialist, only to be dismissed and treated this way, was disheartening. Instead of leaving with clarity or reassurance, they left feeling smaller, unheard, and less likely to return.

Your Degree Is Your Training. Your Humanity Is Your Medicine.

Most practitioners begin this journey with a deep why, to help, to heal, to serve. Yet the system grinds us down.

Administrative overload cuts 30 minute visits into 10, Insurance dictates care and pace, Burnout from endless quotas and staffing shortages and Patients arrive already armed with “Dr. Google” or AI searches, convinced of their own diagnosis before the conversation begins

Access to information is valuable, but no search engine replaces years of education, practice, and judgment. For many practitioners, this new layer of expectation makes an already strained encounter harder.

The Mutual Objectification

Patients begin to see practitioners as service machines.

Practitioners begin to see patients as charts or numbers.

And in that exchange, humanity is lost.

The white coat can be deceiving. It makes us expect perfection, instant clarity, and superhuman answers. But here is what we often forget: ALL practitioners are human beings too. They have families and childcare challenges, they care for aging parents, they wrestle with their own illnesses and mental health, and they shoulder bills and expenses like everyone else. They have marriages that fail, they go through divorce, and they live with financial stresses and strains. It may be hard to believe when you are sitting in a waiting room, but the truth is they carry many of the same life struggles we do. Remembering this softens the encounter because when both sides see each other’s humanity, something shifts.

Expectations on Both Sides

There are expectations on both sides. Patients walk in hoping for more time, more listening, more answers. Practitioners walk in hoping for clarity, honesty, and cooperation. Sometimes, on both sides, the expectations are unreasonable. When we let those expectations collide unchecked, frustration replaces connection.

The Bigger Issue

This is a symptom of a larger system that undervalues empathy and rewards speed over presence. Insurance bureaucracy, drug regulation, opioid crises, physician shortages, none of these are disappearing soon. But while we wait for systemic reform, we cannot abandon the one medicine always available, human connection.

Let’s remember our why. This is not only for physicians, psychologists, dentists, or educators it is for me too. I am a practitioner, and I know how easy it is to lose sight of the reason we began.

Your degree is your training. Your humanity is your medicine.

If we can return to that truth ,seeing each patient, each client, each student as a person, and remembering that we ourselves are people first , then care can be restored.

Healing begins when we stop objectifying one another and start listening again.

“I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.” — from the Hippocratic Oath