'The single most terrifying question I force myself to ask my boss.'

I have a deeply embarrassing personality trait: I'm ambitious.

I know, I know. You're rolling your eyes, but my tall poppy syndrome is on fire right now.

I've always wanted to be... good. Like, annoyingly good.

For years, I thought the way to get there was to just be perfect. To go above and beyond in every role I have, to say yes to everything, to be as impressive as humanly possible.

There was one tiny problem: praise is useless.

Listen to How to Give (and Get) Feedback Without Making It Weird on the BIZ podcast. Post continues below.

It's lovely, don't get me wrong. I'll take a "great job!" or a "love your insights!" any day of the week. But praise is a comfort, not a tool. It doesn't make you better. It just makes you... comfortable.

And I've learned that "comfortable" is where careers go to die (sorry to be harsh).

So, I adopted a new (and horrific) strategy.

I actively, relentlessly, and cringing-ly(?) hunt for negative feedback. From everyone.

The moment someone compliments my work— whether it's my editor, a producer, or a co-host, I deploy my secret weapon.

My editor will say: "Em, loved that career article. Well done."

And I'll smile, wait for them to feel safe, and then lean in with the conversational equivalent of a hand grenade: "Thank you. But what didn't you like?"

The physical reaction is always the same. They freeze. Their eyes widen. They start to sweat. You can see them thinking, "Oh God, it's a trap. She's testing me. Abort!"

People hate giving negative feedback, possibly even more than they hate receiving it. But I don't let them off the hook.

Nine times out of ten, after a lot of painful squirming, they'll give me something.

"Well... since you asked... the ending felt a bit rushed. The final point didn't really connect back to the start."

That's the gold. That's the stuff that actually makes me better.

Honestly, this is not a fun way to live. My brain, like everyone else, does not enjoy this.

Leadership coach Lauren Humphrey explained on the Biz podcast, we're all caught in this horrible internal tug-of-war. There's the tension between our desire "to grow and change" and our other very real, very needy desire to be told, "I love you, don't change". We want to be "accepted", but we also know we need to improve.

My tactic is basically just a brutal way of sacrificing my "desire to be accepted" in favour of my "desire to grow".

Watch: 7 signs of a workaholic. Post continues below.

And every single time I get a piece of criticism, my brain immediately enters what Humphrey calls the "SARA model". It's the four-stage psychological process we all go through:

Shock/Surprise: "She said what about the ending?"

Anger/Anxiety: "She's wrong! She just didn't get it! She read it too fast!"

Resistance: "This is stupid. I'm not going to listen. My piece was perfect."

Acceptance: "She might have a small (like literally minuscule) point. The ending is weak (I guess)."

I have to physically force myself to shut up, nod, and sit with that awful, itchy feeling until I can get to the useful "Acceptance" bit.

And the reason I ask everyone (not just my boss) is that peer feedback is often more honest and more useful.

Your boss gives you feedback in the "stiff and formal" setting of a review. But your coworkers? They're right there in the trenches with you. They're the ones who actually hear you stumble over a question or who have to right the same reports as you.

They're the ones who can say, "Honestly, you kind of cut Lisa (my lovely BIZ co-host (Sorry Lis)) off when she was making a good point."

Guess what? That's incredibly good to know.

I'm not "brave" for doing this, I'm just incredibly nosy about my own flaws.

And I've found that people want to give feedback; they're just terrified. Apparently, 60 per cent of employees want feedback on... a weekly basis, and that figure jumps to 72 per cent for Gen Z.

By asking what they didn't like. I'm giving them explicit permission to skip the "sh*t sandwich" (which, by the way, we have got to take... off the menu) and just give me the... sh*t (there's definitely a better metaphor here, but you know what I mean).

Has it been a fun, breezy ride to the top? No. It's been a constant, low-grade interrogation of my own inadequacies (I'm fine).

But has it worked? 100 per cent.

And I'm (annoyingly) getting much, much better at my job.

Praise makes you feel good. Criticism, if you can hack it, makes you realistically good.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my producer and ask her what she hated about my last podcast episode. Stay tuned.

If you want more from Emily Vernem, you can follow her on Instagram @emilyvernem.

Feature image: Supplied.