I work with some brilliant people.
People who are smart, capable, kind—and human. People who do exceptional work behind the scenes to help everything run smoothly.
One of those people is my Executive Assistant, Minneke (Min).
The other day, we were chatting about a small task that needed doing: picking up the phone and calling a client. It was a routine thing, something most people would consider simple.
But I noticed a hesitation in her voice.
She opened up and told me something that stopped me in my tracks.
She said that phone calls—particularly cold or unscheduled ones—don’t feel simple to her. In fact, they often bring up a wave of dread.
I asked if she’d be willing to write it down. And what she shared with me hit like a quiet truth I think a lot of us are overdue to talk about.
With her permission, here’s Min’s story.
Min’s Story: Why Phone Calls Can Be Terrifying
“You’re going to sound awkward.”
“They probably don’t want to hear from you.”
“What if you say something weird and ruin everything?”
That’s the kind of inner monologue that starts playing in my head when I know I need to make a phone call—especially to someone I don’t know well, or someone in a position of authority. A stranger. A busy executive. Someone who might be annoyed, who doesn’t like unscheduled interruptions, or who just does not have time for me.
Even when I know the call is necessary, even when I’ve done nothing wrong, the anxiety kicks in like clockwork.
I’ve moved countries—or states—fourteen times since I was born. Every time I moved, I had to start over—learning new social norms, making new friends, figuring out what was acceptable to say or do, what people wore (and what brand), how close was too close to stand in line, how to relate to people in charge, what kind of compliments (or jokes!) were okay, what topics were off-limits.
In some places—especially in high-conformity cultures and sub-cultures like American high school or East Asia—getting it wrong meant standing out. And not in a good way.
So I learned to adapt. To read the room. To conform. Fitting in became a form of social survival. The more I could anticipate what was expected, the safer I felt… and the more I avoided doing or saying anything that might come off as awkward, inappropriate, or just… different.
That’s why phone calls, even now, still fill me with dread.
And I’m not alone.
Phone call anxiety is more common than most people realise. Despite being constantly connected, many of us have developed a quiet (or not-so-quiet) fear of voice calls. For some, it’s about social discomfort. For others, it’s a deeper fear of being caught off guard, sounding unprofessional, or just not knowing what to say.
For me, it’s a mix of all of the above—and then some.
Why Are Phone Calls So Hard?
Unlike texting or emailing, phone calls happen in real time. There’s no backspace, no opportunity to rewrite or rethink your words before sending them off. You’re expected to respond on the spot, with the right tone, the right phrasing, the right timing.
If you’re someone with possible neurodivergence, like I suspect I might be, that level of unpredictability is deeply uncomfortable. A joke might fall flat. A question might catch you off guard. A pause might spiral into awkward silence.
And unlike in-person conversations, phone calls strip away body language and visual context. As psychology lecturer Dr. Lauren Sergio explains, this lack of nonverbal cues makes it harder to interpret what’s happening. On a video call, a pause can be filled with a smile or nod. In person, we have shared surroundings to ground us. On a phone call, silence can feel like a void.
Add to that the fear of rejection or of being a nuisance—especially in professional settings—and you’ve got the perfect storm. I’ve hesitated many times before calling a busy executive, worried that I’d come across as annoying or intrusive, even if it was part of my job.
Working remotely only intensifies the problem. We’ve gotten used to written communication: DMs, emails, voice notes we can re-record. We can polish our words before presenting them. But the phone asks for something raw and immediate. And for people like me, that feels risky.
What Helps (and Might Help You Too)
Phone anxiety isn’t permanent. Like any fear, it can be understood, managed, and reshaped. Here’s what’s helped me—and what might help you too:
1. Treat It Like a Mini Presentation
Before a call, I jot down what I want to say. Bullet points help. If I’m especially nervous, I’ll even rehearse it. It might feel silly, but knowing I’ve thought things through gives me a sense of control.
2. Practice Low-Stakes Conversations
Sometimes I call a friend instead of texting, or order food over the phone. It helps me re-train my brain that not every call is high-pressure. With repetition, the anxiety loses some of its grip.
3. Embrace the Awkward
Silence isn’t always bad. The urge to fill every pause is strong, but often unnecessary. If I give the moment space, it usually resolves on its own.
4. Shift the Narrative
When I catch myself worrying that I’m bothering someone, I try to reframe it: I’m reaching out because it matters. Because I’m showing initiative. Because this conversation might make things easier for both of us.
5. Build Tolerance, Not Avoidance
Avoiding phone calls might bring short-term relief, but it reinforces the fear in the long run. Instead, I’m trying to build tolerance slowly. A little discomfort now means more freedom later.
Why I’m Sharing This
Min’s story reminded me of something important.
Confidence doesn’t always look like a big keynote talk or a bold pitch to investors. Sometimes, it’s the quiet courage of pressing “Call” when every part of you wants to disappear.
For many of us—especially those with neurodivergence, trauma backgrounds, or simply deeply thoughtful minds—confidence isn’t loud. It’s considered. It’s layered. And it grows when we’re met with understanding, not judgement.
If phone anxiety is something you—or someone on your team—struggles with, know this: you’re not alone, and you’re not broken. This isn’t about “just getting over it.” It’s about building small, steady bridges of trust, support, and skill until the fear softens and connection becomes easier.
That’s what we do here. Whether it’s helping leaders speak on stage, pitch with purpose, or simply find their voice in everyday moments—we’re in the business of turning fear into fluency.
And that starts with conversations like this one.
