I am British by birth, but after twenty years abroad, I sometimes feel like a foreigner in my own professional culture. Having lived in Hong Kong and the Philippines for eight years, surrounded by Canadian-Chinese friends and expat communities, and now in Germany with my German husband and kids for the past twelve years, I have absorbed so many different ways of communicating that I often catch myself wondering, what language am I actually speaking?
Because it isn’t just about words, it’s about tone, subtext, and expectation. And the place I struggle with this the most isn’t Germany, China, or the Philippines, it’s back in the UK, in British business culture, where I should understand the rules but often feel like …
…I don’t.
With childhood friends and family, there’s a shared history, an understanding that goes beyond words, so communication still feels natural. But in professional settings, I find myself hesitating, second-guessing my phrasing, and sometimes, staying silent altogether.
The Unspoken Expectation
What makes this experience even stranger is that I sound British.
Therefore, there’s an unspoken assumption that because I have a British accent (which, bizarrely, seems to have grown stronger the longer I’ve been away, though that’s a whole other musing altogether), I should instinctively understand the nuances of indirectness, the polite phrasing, the carefully worded hesitations that mean FAR more than they appear to.
If a German or an American colleague is blunt, it’s more or less accepted, “Oh, they’re just direct.” But when I do the same, it feels… off.
There’s an expectation that I should know how to soften my words, how to imply rather than state, and how to hear what isn’t being said. Yet, after years of adapting to different cultures, some more direct, some less so, I find that I no longer do.
This shift is fascinating to me. How is it that I once instinctively understood British professional communication but now struggle to decode it? And why does my own directness, which feels completely natural elsewhere, seem out of place in my own culture?
The Unwritten Rules of British Business Talk
Growing up, I absorbed the delicate art of British politeness, the carefully phrased suggestions that weren’t really suggestions, the coded language of “I hear what you’re saying…” (which often meant “I completely disagree.”). But after years of living abroad, I realise I’ve lost my fluency in this kind of indirect communication.
In Hong Kong and the Philippines, I was surrounded by a mix of cultures, but conversations were often refreshingly clear. My Canadian-Chinese friends and fellow expats didn’t rely on subtlety. If something was a bad idea, they said so. If you annoyed them, you knew about it. There was no need to decode whether “That’s interesting” meant “Tell me more” or “Please never mention this again.”
Then I moved to Germany, where directness isn’t just expected, it’s respected. If something isn’t possible, people say so. If they disagree, they tell you, without softening the blow or padding their response with polite filler. In business, decisions are made based on facts, not emotions, and being too vague can actually cause confusion.
I adjusted. I embraced the clarity. And now, it’s British professional communication that feels like a puzzle.
Decoding the Subtext
When I find myself in a British work environment, whether in meetings or emails, I hesitate. I know that “That’s an interesting approach” doesn’t necessarily mean interest, but what exactly does it mean? Is it a gentle rejection? A polite way of saying, “I’ll let you figure out for yourself that this is a bad idea”? Or is it a genuine invitation for discussion?
And don’t get me started on emails.
I’ve come to realise that British business emails are a language of their own!
I used to think “Per my last email…” was a neutral phrase, but I now understand that it’s a coded expression of frustration. In Germany, an email that simply states, “I haven’t received the document yet—please send it over,” is perfectly normal. In Britain, that would need to be wrapped in layers of polite cushioning: “Just following up to see if you had a chance to look at my last email—no rush, of course!”
I find myself fascinated by these differences. How did I once navigate this so easily, and why does it now feel so foreign?
Bridging the Gap
I am not complaining; living between cultures is an incredible experience. The only stickler is that it also means never fully belonging to just one. I’ve lost the easy fluency of my British business voice, and in its place, I’ve developed something new: a blend of perspectives and a shifting awareness of how language functions in different spaces.
Mostly, I’ve come to realise that communication isn’t just about being direct or indirect. it’s about knowing your audience. And my challenge isn’t about choosing between one style or another but about becoming fluent in both, learning to move between them with curiosity rather than frustration.
Whether that means using a German “Nein,” an international “No worries!” or a British “That’s an interesting idea…” (delivered with the correct degree of eyebrow movement), I’m still figuring it out.
But then again, that is part of the fun of living between cultures!