Several years ago, I got really into a podcast called Stuff You Should Know.
I don’t know if it was a coincidence, or if it’s something host Josh Clark used to say a lot… but that’s when I first heard this phrase:
“Don’t yuck someone’s yum.”
Simple. Kind. And quietly profound.
A gentle reminder to have an open mind and open heart—especially when someone’s enthusiastically sharing something they’re excited about.
Pitchforks
You see it a lot in tech.
Name any tool, library, app, or plugin—and before long, a flurry of strong opinions will show up.
Pitchforks. Helmets.
People declaring that something is garbage—or worse, that you are, for liking it.
Like, I think CSS is great. I think CSS modules is great. I think CSS-in-JS is great. I think Tailwind is great.
What I don’t think is that anyone’s opinion on Tailwind needs to define who they are. Not everything needs to be an identity. Not everything needs to be a war.
Because these “wars”? They’re not productive. They’re performances of belonging. And when we perform belonging by exclusion—by rolling our eyes at other tools, other tastes—we don’t build better teams. We just make safer echo chambers—for some.
At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to build something that works. To help each other figure stuff out. To make progress together.
Dismissal
There’s a difference between thoughtful feedback and casual dismissal.
Feedback is specific. Grounded. Constructive. Dismissal is a shrug disguised as a snark.
Feedback says: “Here’s what didn’t work for me, and why.” Dismissal says: “That’s dumb. I’d never use that.”
One opens the door. The other slams it before the conversation starts.
And the worst part? It doesn’t just shut down ideas—it shuts down people. People who might’ve had something great to share. People who were brave enough to bring an idea forward in the first place.
And if that idea gets waved off with a sigh or a side-eye?
They might not speak up next time. Not because they don’t care. But because it didn’t feel safe to try again.
I’m reminded of this moment from one of my favourite documentaries, 6 Days to Air: The Making of South Park. One of the writers, Susan Arneson, contrasts other shows with the South Park writers’ room:
I've had friends that worked at other shows. If you say something that doesn't work, they're like "This sucks. You suck. You're not funny". And these guys, it's a very kind room. And the worst you get is, "Okay..."
One yuck can echo—louder and longer than you realize.
Sometimes, it’s loud enough to make someone go quiet for good. Not because they don’t have ideas—but because they’re tired of feeling stupid for having them.
Respect
It costs nothing to say:
“Tell me more.” “How did that help you?” “I’ve never tried it that way—what do you like about it?”
That’s how you stay open. That’s how you learn. That’s how you show respect for the person—not just the idea.
And yeah—some things won’t be for you. That’s fine.
But if the thing doesn’t hurt anyone? Let them enjoy it. You don’t have to adopt it. But you don’t have to yuck it either.
Looking back on my tech career—especially in more recent years where I’ve had to lead more things—I can’t think of a single moment where things were so critical that I needed to shut someone down for the sake of “getting it done.”
(And yes, that includes commanding major incidents, and orchestrating high-pressure, high-visibility projects.)
Space
Because the thing about a yuck is—it doesn’t just reject the tool. It often rejects the person behind it.
It’s easy to forget: when someone shares an idea, they’re not just offering a thing. They’re offering a part of themselves. Their curiosity. Their hope. Their attempt. And when that gets yucked too quickly, they may not offer it again.
That’s how good ideas die. Not in the code review. Not in the Figjam board. But in the silence that follows.
And no forced brainstorm—no chaos of sticky notes—can recreate the kind of out-of-nowhere idea that comes from someone who feels safe, seen, and heard.
Because “Don’t yuck someone’s yum” isn’t really about taste. It’s about trust.
It’s about what happens when people feel safe enough to bring their weird ideas, their unfinished thoughts, their odd little yums—and know they won’t be shut down for it.
So protect that space. Make room for people to show up fully. With their ideas. Their preferences. Their strange, specific joys.
You might just learn something.
About the project. About the process. About the person sitting across from you.
And who knows—maybe that odd little yum is the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for. You just needed the space to hear it. And the openness to actually listen.