There’s a Japanese concept called Kaizen.

It means continuous improvement. Not the flashy kind. Not the TED Talk kind. The quiet, daily, incremental kind. The kind that happens in small moments, awkward conversations, and uncomfortable realizations. The kind that doesn’t announce itself with confetti.

Just steady becoming.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Kaizen alongside another idea that tends to make people shift in their seats: radical candor.

Radical candor is not cruelty in a blazer. It’s not bluntness for sport.
It’s not dropping truth bombs and walking away.

It’s care plus honesty. And I’ve practiced it a few times recently.

I try to be fair. I try to be transparent. I try to lead with respect. I say the hard thing because avoiding it doesn’t help anyone grow. Sometimes it lands exactly as intended  with relief, clarity, even gratitude.

And sometimes? It lands like a dropped plate. Some people appreciate radical candor.
Some people absolutely do not. It can feel jarring. But here’s the thing. Jarring isn’t always bad.

Jarring disrupts patterns. Jarring interrupts autopilot. Jarring breaks the static.

We spend so much of our lives politely circling issues, cushioning feedback, wrapping truths in bubble wrap. We mistake comfort for kindness. We confuse silence with harmony. We convince ourselves that not rocking the boat is the same as steering it.

But growth doesn’t happen in the safe middle of avoidance.

Growth happens when something shifts. When a mirror is held up.
When a pattern is named. When a story gets challenged.

Kaizen teaches us that improvement doesn’t arrive in grand gestures.  It arrives in moments. In conversations. In the decision to be honest even when your voice shakes a little.

Radical candor is Kaizen in action.

It’s saying I care enough about you and about this work to tell the truth.

Yes, it can sting. Yes, it can surprise. Yes, it can momentarily disrupt the vibe.

But disruption isn’t destruction.

Sometimes disruption is exactly what cracks things open.

Not everyone will be ready for it. That’s okay. Not everyone has to love your honesty for it to be necessary. Growth is personal. Timing matters. Readiness varies.

Still, I’d rather be part of meaningful discomfort than comfortable stagnation.

I like the jolt.

I like the moment when the air shifts and something real enters the room.

Because on the other side of that awkward pause is usually clarity. And clarity is powerful. Clarity is freeing. Clarity makes room for better choices. Kaizen doesn’t ask us to be perfect. It asks us to be brave enough to improve.

And radical candor? That’s one of the tools. Not sharp for harm. Sharp for change.

So here’s to the honest conversations. The respectful truths. The moments that break the mold. Here’s to jarring.

Sometimes, jarring is exactly how growth begins.