If you use these 10 phrases when you talk to people, you’re probably a high-level thinker

Some people impress you with big words.

High-level thinkers impress you with better questions.

You can hear it in their phrasing—simple, disarming sentences that pull the conversation up a level, tighten the focus, and invite better decisions.

They don’t flex with jargon. They steer with clarity.

If you often catch yourself using the phrases below, you’re probably thinking at altitude—even if you feel ordinary most days.

1. “What problem are we actually trying to solve?”

High-level thinkers refuse to race toward solutions for the wrong thing. This question resets the room. It strips away drama, pet ideas, and shiny tools. Half the time, you’ll realize people disagree on the problem itself—and that’s the real bottleneck.

Try it when a conversation starts spiraling into tactics (“Should we use X or Y?”). You’ll save hours by naming the job before picking the hammer.

2. “What would have to be true for this to work?”

This is a truth-seeking question dressed as optimism. It doesn’t ask, “Is this good?” It maps conditions. Now you can test those conditions instead of arguing beliefs. Consultants use it. Founders use it. Parents can use it on weeknight logistics. Once you list the must-be-trues, you’ve got a checklist for reality, not vibes.

A bonus riff: “What’s already true, and what would we need to make true?” That split turns dreams into projects.

3. “In what context would the opposite be right?”

Great thinkers hold two truths without flinching. This question hunts for edge cases and avoids one-size-fits-all advice. Maybe remote work is perfect for deep work but awful for onboarding. Maybe spicy ramen is elite… unless you’re trying to talk business. The point: wisdom is contextual. Ask for the boundary, not just the rule.

As the old Munger line goes, “Invert, always invert.” Use inversion to find where your certainty breaks—and what that teaches you.

4. “What are the trade-offs?”

Low-level talk wants wins with no costs. High-level talk makes costs explicit. Money, time, attention, reputation—something will be spent. When you name the trade-offs, you turn hidden friction into a deliberate choice.

If a plan sounds like a free upgrade, you either don’t understand it yet or you’re being sold to. Ask, “What do we give up by saying yes to this?” It’s the adult question in the room.

5. “What’s our base rate here?”

This is the anti–anecdote phrase. High-level thinkers check the typical outcome before falling in love with a story. “Base rate” means: how does this usually go—for most people, most of the time? If the base rate says “low odds,” you might still proceed—but you’ll design guardrails and set expectations like a grown-up.

Use it in career moves, product bets, even personal routines. The base rate won’t decide for you. It will sober you up.

6. “What’s the smallest test that would give us a real signal?”

Big ideas die in big launches. Small tests survive. This question shrinks risk and accelerates learning. It’s the R&D of daily life: A/B your dinner plan, your workout habit, your onboarding flow. Instead of six months of debate, run a two-week pilot with a clear measure and a rollback plan.

Progress loves prototypes. When in doubt, make the thing smaller and sooner.

7. “What might I be missing?”

Four words that are humility with teeth. You’re not surrendering your view—you’re stress-testing it. High-level thinkers assume blind spots exist, and they invite the room to help locate them. This phrase changes the tone instantly; people stop defending their turf and start building the map.

If you want a slightly sharper version: “What’s the strongest counterargument to this?” You’ll either patch the hole or change course before reality does it for you.

8. “How would we measure success (and failure)?”

Without a yardstick, every outcome can be spun as progress. High-level thinkers pick a few simple metrics upfront—ideally leading indicators. Define the failure line too; it keeps zombie projects from eating your calendar.

A mini-script: “If we see A and B by week four, we continue. If we don’t, we pause and review.” Now you’re managing a process, not a hope.

9. “What are the second-order effects?”

First-order thinking asks, “What happens?” Second-order asks, “And then what happens because of that?” You raise prices → revenue per unit rises → churn increases → support tickets drop → brand sentiment shifts. The ripple often matters more than the splash.

This question is also great for personal decisions. Sleep in? Feels good now; ruins the afternoon workout; worsens sleep tomorrow. Second-order thinking lengthens your time horizon and upgrades your choices.

10. “What’s the cost of doing nothing?”

We’re good at tallying the cost of action and terrible at calculating the cost of inertia. This phrase forces the comparison. If status quo means lost momentum, decaying morale, or missed compounding, then “do nothing” is not free—it’s expensive in a quiet way. High-level thinkers put that cost on the table. Suddenly the calculus shifts.

A helpful add-on: “What will be harder later if we don’t decide now?”

Two quick, true-to-life moments

The marketing meeting that stopped wasting money.
A friend’s team was about to pour budget into a “brand awareness push.” It sounded impressive and beautifully vague. She asked, “How would we measure success (and failure)?” Silence, then a few squishy answers. She followed with, “What’s the smallest test that would give us a real signal?” They ran a two-week micro-campaign with pre-defined lift targets. Outcome: they saved 80% of the planned spend and redirected the rest to a channel that actually moved signups. Phrases #6 and #8 did the lifting.

The apartment choice that aged well.
I once fell for a place with glossy finishes and a nightmare commute. The leasing agent kept saying, “You’ll get used to it.” I asked myself, “What are the trade-offs?” and “What’s the cost of doing nothing?” (i.e., staying put another year). Second-order kicked in: longer commute → fewer weeknight workouts → worse sleep → worse writing. I stayed put, saved money, and moved later to a spot that kept my mornings intact. That one question chain saved me a year of low-grade regret.

How to start sounding like this (without sounding like a tool)

• Lead with curiosity, not correction. “Help me understand the problem we’re solving,” lands better than “You’re solving the wrong thing.”

• Offer your phrase, then listen. Ask it cleanly. Pause. Let the room work. Don’t answer your own question unless no one else will.

• Translate the abstract into next actions. After a good question, capture the result: “Okay, our must-be-trues are X and Y. Let’s test Y this week.”

• Keep sentences short. High-level questions don’t need a runway. Short signals clarity.

• Use one upgrade per conversation. Sprinkle, don’t smother. Ten “smart” questions in a row is a cross-examination, not collaboration.

Bonus phrases (same spirit, different angle)

• “On a scale of 1–10, where are we—and what would make it a 7?” Numbers force specificity; the “what would make it” forces design.

• “If we had to decide today, what would we pick and why?” Deadlines sharpen thinking and expose what’s actually driving the choice.

• “Where could this break?” Friendly paranoia. Great for launches and plans that look air-tight.

• “Who else needs to see this?” Prevents siloed brilliance and future blockers.

• “What’s the simplest version that still delivers the promise?” Cuts scope without cutting soul.

Why these phrases work (under the hood)

• They elevate the frame. Instead of wrestling inside a narrow box, they question the box.

• They surface assumptions. Every plan hides guesses. When you name them, you can test them.

• They de-personalize disagreement. It’s not “my idea vs. your idea”; it’s “what reality requires.”

• They protect attention. By asking for base rates, second-order effects, and smallest tests, you keep scarce time pointed at signal over noise.

• They model humility. “What might I be missing?” opens a door nobody resents walking through.

A simple, repeatable cadence for better conversations

1. Start with the problem
   “What problem are we actually trying to solve?”

2. Map assumptions
   “What would have to be true?” “What’s our base rate?”

3. Design a small test
   “What’s the smallest test that gives us a real signal?”

4. Define success/failure
   “How would we measure both?”

5. Scan ripples & trade-offs
   “Second-order effects?” “What are the trade-offs?” “What’s the cost of doing nothing?”

6. Invite dissent
   “What might we be missing?” “In what context would the opposite be right?”

Run that loop on a project, a family decision, even a personal habit, and watch the quality of your outcomes—and your calm—rise.

The bottom line

High-level thinking isn’t about sounding smart. It’s about asking cleaner questions that move reality closer, faster.

Phrases like “What problem are we actually trying to solve?”, “What would have to be true?”, “What are the trade-offs?”, “What’s our base rate?”, “What’s the smallest test?”, “What might I be missing?”, “How will we measure success and failure?”, “What are the second-order effects?”, and “What’s the cost of doing nothing?” are simple on purpose. They deflate ego, focus attention, and pull better thinking out of everyone in earshot.

If you already talk like this, you don’t need a certification to prove you’re a high-level thinker. Your calendar, your decisions, and your teammates’ relief are the proof. Keep the phrases short, the curiosity real, and the tests small.

That’s how average-sounding conversations turn into uncommon results.