The Psychology of Useless Advice & The Monday Morning Test

A friend confided in me over weekend brunch, days after her annual review, still puzzled. "They told me to raise my profile," she said. "But what does that actually mean?"

It is a question I have been asked many times, and one I have asked myself. The phrase lands with all the solemnity of a career prophecy - but strip away the gloss and you realise it is closer to a horoscope. It sounds profound, but after a weekend of reflection, try applying it on Monday morning and you will discover it is not legal tender.

This is the uncomfortable truth about much corporate guidance: it is mysticism masquerading as wisdom. We have built a thriving market in advice that cannot be acted upon - the business equivalent of selling people maps to treasure that does not exist.

Why vague advice thrives

The annual review is an awkward ritual. For managers, it represents a moment to demonstrate gravitas - to prove they can see something in you that you cannot yet see yourself. For employees, it is a moment of asymmetric power: you need encouragement, but you also need to preserve goodwill. The result is a strange kind of feedback pantomime, where phrases like "raise your profile" or "be more strategic" fill the uncomfortable silences.

None of this is malicious. Senior colleagues are often genuinely trying to help. But when the obvious points have been covered - you are doing well, you have met your objectives - they still feel compelled to add something profound. Empty calories feel better than nothing, or so the logic goes.

The trouble is, this creates a feedback economy built on fool's gold. Managers feel wise. Employees feel guided. Both sides walk away satisfied, yet nothing meaningful has been exchanged. It is rather like applauding a magic trick whilst knowing perfectly well it is just sleight of hand.

The Monday Morning Test

Here is a brutal but useful filter: real advice survives the weekend and can be acted upon on Monday morning. If someone cannot tell you what to do differently when you walk back into the office after days of reflection, then what they are giving you is performance art, not guidance.

"Raise your profile" fails spectacularly. It is not that the underlying idea is wrong - visibility does matter - but without behaviours it is little more than career astrology. Compare it with actionable versions of the same thought:

Speak up in meetings at least once a week, even if only to ask a clarifying question.

Volunteer to lead a small cross-functional project that brings you into contact with new colleagues.

Ask to observe senior leadership meetings when they are relevant to your projects.

Now the mystical becomes practical. These are things you can actually do.

The entrepreneur Alex Hormozi makes a related point about the difference between those who understand their craft and those who merely perform understanding. True expertise can be broken down into behaviours. Everything else is, as he puts it, "hullabaloo" - the kind of vague wisdom that sounds impressive but leads nowhere.

The receiver's dilemma

For the professional on the receiving end, the challenge is delicate. You cannot simply throw the advice back and demand clarity - that risks embarrassing the senior colleague, which is rarely career-enhancing. But you can probe, gently.

A useful phrase is: "Could you give me an example of what that might look like in practice?" Even if the answer is imperfect, the very act of asking nudges the advice closer to something behavioural. It also signals that you are serious about applying their feedback, which counts for something.

The giver's burden

If you are the one dispensing wisdom, the obligation runs deeper. Do not rest on your laurels, assuming that seniority automatically confers insight. Before you reach for phrases like "raise your profile" or "be more strategic", ask yourself three questions: have I really thought this through? What specific behaviour am I encouraging? If they were to take my advice, what in a year's time would they have done differently?

It is easy to mistake a performance of authority for genuine guidance. But thoughtful advice requires effort. It demands that you translate instincts into examples, to imagine the world from the recipient's vantage point. In short, to make your wisdom usable rather than quotable.

The wider infection

This problem extends far beyond annual reviews into every corner of our professional lives. Scroll through LinkedIn, listen to productivity gurus, sit through leadership seminars - the same pattern emerges wherever guidance is dispensed. Much of what passes for insight fails the Monday morning test spectacularly.

"Be more authentic." "Think like an entrepreneur." "Embrace your inner leader." These phrases circulate like intellectual currency, but try to cash them in and you will find the account empty. They are the business world's equivalent of "be yourself" - technically true but practically useless.

We have created a thriving market in advice that exists primarily to make the giver feel wise and the receiver feel enlightened, whilst achieving neither. It is mysticism dressed up as methodology - fortune telling in business attire.

Signal versus noise

The skill we all need - whether receiving counsel from a boss or consuming content online - is advice literacy. Learning to separate signal from noise, to value behaviours over slogans, to distinguish between those who know and those who merely sound like they know.

Because here is the thing: we are all, in different contexts, both givers and receivers of guidance. Even chief executives receive counsel from boards, mentors, and trusted colleagues. The question is not whether we need advice - we do - but whether we can recognise the difference between wisdom and performance.

A final thought

Profile matters. Reputation matters. Strategy matters. But unless someone can explain how to build them, these are not pieces of advice - they are pieces of theatre.

The deeper lesson is uncomfortable but liberating: much of what we treat as profound guidance is simply sophisticated procrastination. Real advice can be acted upon after a weekend of reflection. Everything else is just mystique wrapped in authority - expensive cologne masquerading as medicine.

If it cannot be translated into Monday's to-do list, it probably was not worth Friday's meeting.