What Happens When the Numbers Make Things Awkward?

Every Friday, i run a game on LinkedIn called You Are the Analyst.

It’s a thought exercise. A scenario. An invitation to step into the role of an analyst for the day and wrestle with a problem. Most weeks, it’s familiar territory like marketing strategy, pricing challenges, B2C or B2B decisions. The kinds of situations analysts are trained to feel comfortable with. The kinds of problems where disagreement is usually more technical than personal.

The game is designed with traps. Logical fallacies. Bad math. Flawed assumptions. Things analysts are supposed to catch. It’s a way to sharpen skills. To practice critical thinking. To get better at seeing what’s actually there instead of what we want to see.

But over the last couple of months, i’ve started introducing a few new types of scenarios.

I’ve been pulling examples from places that feel heavier. More charged. Situations where data isn’t just supporting a business decision, but being used to push a narrative. Political narratives. Public narratives. Claims that spread quickly because they feel good, not because they’re true.

Last week’s scenario was based loosely on a claim made by the President of the United States that drug prices had been lowered by 400, 500, even 600 percent. A claim that is, mathematically, impossible.

In the game, i asked people to imagine themselves as a young fact checker at a national news organization. Early in their career. Still building credibility. Their editor is established, senior, powerful and wants to run with the headline. Wants the story out by the end of the day.

Your analysis shows the claim is wrong.

And then i offered three paths.

Call it false.
Call it mixed.
Or call it mostly true, the option your boss clearly wants, focusing on selective success stories while burying the broader data deep in the story.

After posting it, i got feedback.

The feedback that maybe i should keep the game more business-focused. That politically charged topics might alienate people. That people might unfollow. That it might make others uncomfortable.

They were probably right. i likely lost followers after that post. i don’t know for sure. And honestly, i don’t care.

i’m not on LinkedIn to build a following. i don’t track follower growth. i don’t celebrate follower count milestones. i don’t run this game to gain attention. i run it because it’s valuable. Because it reflects the reality of what analysis actually is.

And the reality is that being an analyst IS uncomfortable.

Not “occasionally.”
Not “in edge cases.”
Uncomfortable by design.

Analysis isn’t just tracking data. Not just running reports or building dashboards. It’s not just the math. It’s often political. It’s often inconvenient. It often puts you in direct conflict with people who have more power than you. People who control budgets. Promotions. Raises. Careers.

i know because i’ve been there.

Early in my career, working client-side as a young analyst, i was asked to “massage the numbers.” Because the story leadership wanted to tell didn’t match what the data actually showed.

i remember exactly how it felt.

This wasn’t a peer asking for clarification. This was someone with authority. Someone who made it very clear they were responsible for my future at the company. When that person tells you to adjust the numbers, it doesn’t feel like a simple ethical choice.

People like to pretend it’s binary.
Do it or don’t do it.
Right or wrong.

It isn’t.

It’s murky. It’s quiet. It’s full of fear. Fear of being labeled difficult. Fear of being sidelined. Fear of being seen as “not a team player.” Fear of losing momentum in a career you’ve barely started.

And so what often happens is silence.

Especially for analysts close to the business, web analysts, digital analysts, marketing analysts. We tell ourselves our job is just to provide the data. That someone else can decide what it means. That someone else can deal with the consequences.

But that’s wrong.

Our job isn’t just to deliver numbers. Our job is to understand what the numbers are saying. To understand the people behind them. To understand how data can be used, and misused, to shape narratives that affect real lives.

That responsibility doesn’t disappear just because it’s uncomfortable.

Which is why i run this game.

Not to provoke. Not to posture. Not to chase engagement. But to practice. To sit with discomfort in a safe, fictional space. Because if we can’t even talk about these situations in a made-up LinkedIn scenario, how are we supposed to handle them when they’re real?

When it’s not a game.
When it’s your job.
When it’s your reputation.
When it’s your livelihood.

If analysis feels uncomfortable, it’s not a sign you’re doing it wrong.

It might be the clearest sign you’re doing it honestly.

And maybe the more unsettling question isn’t whether these scenarios are too uncomfortable to share.

It’s how many times we’ve already lived them and chose silence instead.

✌️💛,

-jason