But let’s be honest—your meetings don’t look like that yet.

You want to make meetings matter.
But you lack control over your participants’ behavior.
Without positional power, it’s hard to manage dominant voices, encourage real participation, or address disruptive behaviour head-on.
Your attendees show up—but they’re disengaged.
They offer suggestions but don’t follow through.
You want to speak with more authority, but when someone senior cuts in, you fall silent.
Your proposals don’t gain buy-in.
You hold the microphone, but not the room. It’s like having the title without the voice—and it’s belittling.

Worse, when nothing gets done… you’re the one held accountable.
You carry the stress when discussions stall,
when decisions are delayed,
when deadlines slip.

And the cycle repeats.
Engagement drops. Trust fades. Morale sinks.
Opportunities are wasted—and you feel stuck, unheard, and alone.

If any of that feels familiar… you’re not alone.
I know exactly how it feels to want to lead with confidence—but feel invisible instead.
I’ve been in rooms where my ideas fell flat, where I tried to hold the space but didn’t feel heard.

That’s why this isn’t just theory for me—it’s personal.

I’m Ms. Gran, a Regulatory Compliance Specialist.

And I remember it clearly…

My manager told me I’d be facilitating a meeting—just days away.

Panic hit me fast.
My mind raced with nervous overthinking.
I didn’t know where to start.

I was overwhelmed by everything I was told I should be doing…
…And stressed by my colleagues’ high expectations.
Worse, I had to facilitate a group of people in managerial positions—people I barely knew.

I entered the conference room…

Insecurity took over.
I started highlighting my weaknesses, apologizing too much, doubting myself.
And unsurprisingly, I left that meeting feeling frustrated and defeated.

Those days were hard.
It felt like going into battle—already knowing you’ve lost.

No one took my meetings seriously.
People forgot the schedule unless I reminded them, sometimes an hour before.
Some double-booked. Others came late. Some didn’t come at all.

I got brushed off.
I was the facilitator, but I was silenced by dominant participants.
They were on their phones, chatting, barely paying attention.
And when the meeting drifted off course, it was hard to pull it back.

Worse were the sarcastic jokes:
“Are we done yet? Are we done?”
It was insulting.

One time, they rescheduled the meeting just because I was facilitating—not my boss—
…Even though the decision-makers were already in the room.

It was clear: they were only attending because of compliance—not because they valued the meeting.
They weren’t engaged.
My meetings weren’t productive.
And as a Regulatory Compliance Associate (at that time), that’s not acceptable.

Our job is to ensure the company complies with regulatory orders—
To avoid penalties and maintain a clean record for franchise renewal.

And yet, I had no control over my participants’ behavior.

I couldn’t just blame them for not providing data. That excuse doesn’t fly.

I started to question myself:

“Is this the kind of work I’ll do for the rest of my life?”
“Will it always be this stressful?”
“Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m not assertive enough.”

Then came a turning point.

After one meeting, during feedback, my boss said:

“You keep making strange sounds when you talk. Like ‘heiheihei… heihei…’”
She even imitated me.

It was awkward. Embarrassing. In front of my colleagues. 

“Stop that! They won’t take you seriously if you do that.”

I paid attention—and yes, I did that a lot, especially when assigning tasks.

It’s called nervous laughter.

I was hesitant to make demands.
Afraid of being rejected.
Afraid of not getting buy-in.

That feedback was like a punch to the gut.
It was painful.
But it was honest.

They didn’t believe me—because I didn’t believe myself.

I wasn’t respected because I hadn’t learned how to facilitate efficiently.

If my manager had been the one leading, they would have responded differently.

So I started observing how she ran her meetings.
How my colleagues facilitated theirs.

And I realized:

To Have Control Over My Meetings, I Needed to Be Respected.

Not with formal authority—
But with earned authority.
The kind that comes from influence, structure, and clarity.

I decided to learn from my manager.
She’s kind, but she doesn’t sugarcoat things.
Her feedback hits hard—unexpected, unscripted, and painfully honest.
Not the kind I was used to (think gentle parenting), but exactly the kind I needed.

I watched how she dealt with participants—from senior managers to entry-level staff.
I took notes.
I learned from my colleagues’ meetings—what worked and what didn’t.

I implemented attendees’ unsolicited feedback and suggestions.
I studied resources covering leadership, execution, corporate culture, project management—even personal development.

I watched videos, scoured forums, and followed Q&A threads on how to run better meetings.

I created a learning → application → feedback → refinement loop.

It was a loooong process.

And eventually…