I recently presented at a conference for GP practice managers on the topic of using AI to support business development in their practices. But I’m not a practice manager, nor am I a business consultant. And while I feel fairly confident and competent in using AI across a range of domains, I know very little about running a medical practice.

The entire week before the session, I was second-guessing everything. Were my examples relevant? Would the context resonate? Would they take me seriously when I’m clearly not one of them? I kept rewriting slides, adding more caveats, and generally trying to sound authoritative enough that they’d overlook the obvious gap in my credentials.

Then I realised that, instead of trying to convince them to trust me, I needed to show how I’d reached my conclusions. I walked them through my process, explaining why I thought the case studies I used were relevant, showing how I’d tested different AI tools against real scenarios from their world, and presenting claims about outcomes that were easily testable. I removed myself from the equation as much as possible so that the question wasn’t “should you trust me?” It was “does this method make sense in your context?”

And it worked. Not because I somehow became more qualified, but because I let the work stand on its own.

The confidence gap

When you lack formal credentials, the instinct is to compensate by trying to sound more authoritative: hedging less, citing impressive sources, speaking with extra certainty, making bold claims. But this is more likely to backfire because the more you try to sound like an expert, the more fragile you actually are—because you know you’re performing expertise you don’t actually have.

Trying to get people to trust your conclusions based on who you are is exactly how we shouldn’t evaluate claims about the world.

Think about it: when someone says “trust me, I’m a doctor” or “believe this because I’ve been doing this for twenty years,” they’re asking you to accept their conclusions based on their position, not their reasoning. That’s arguing from authority. And it’s problematic whether you have the credentials or not.

• If you have credentials, it’s problematic because it discourages people from engaging with your actual thinking. They either accept or reject your claims based on whether they trust your position, not whether your ideas make sense.
• If you don’t have credentials—which is where imposter syndrome lives—it’s even worse. You can’t win that game. You’ll never sound authoritative enough because you lack the very thing that makes arguing from authority work: the authority.

There’s a different approach that sidesteps this entirely: show how you figured things out instead of just showing what you figured out.

When you make your process of inquiry visible, something shifts. You stop worrying about whether you’re qualified and start trusting your method. Your evidence speaks for you. You’re not claiming expertise—you’re demonstrating systematic thinking. And that’s something you can actually stand behind.

What showing your working looks like

Instead of opening with conclusions, start with your process:

“I started by asking five teachers which learning apps actually get used. Then I did some research into the three they mentioned most frequently, comparing implementation costs across schools with similar budgets to ours. Finally, I tested the free trials myself using scenarios from our curriculum.”

Notice what happens internally when you frame it this way. You’re not pretending to be an expert. You’re describing something you actually did—something systematic, thoughtful, and defensible. That’s real confidence grounded in evidence, not performed authority.

The structure is straightforward, where you simply describe:

• How you approached the problem
• What sources you consulted
• What process you followed
• Why you chose certain approaches over alternatives

This works whether you’re researching schools (“I visited six schools, observed lessons in each, talked to current parents about their experiences, and compared test results against our priorities”), proposing healthcare changes (“I read three meta-analyses of treatment outcomes, talked to our GP about our specific situation, and researched side effects in people with similar profiles”), or recommending workplace policies (“I surveyed 15 staff members about current challenges, explore how similar organisations handled this, and tested the approach with our team leads”).

Why this quiets the doubt

Showing your working does three things for your confidence.

1. It gives you something real to stand behind. Instead of defending expertise you don’t claim, you’re defending a method you actually followed. That shift matters psychologically—you know you did the work.
2. It transforms how others engage with you. When people can see your logic, they contribute insights rather than challenge credentials. “Did you consider X?” replaces “Why should we trust you?”
3. It makes you genuinely defensible. When someone questions your recommendation, you point to specific steps: “I chose this approach because when I compared costs across five vendors, this one offered the best balance of features and budget for our needs.” You’re not defending yourself—you’re defending a method that anyone can evaluate.

You may find that you’re tempted to bury people in methodology details. Don’t. You’re not writing a research paper. Focus on the 2-3 most important steps that demonstrate systematic thinking. If you find yourself explaining more than three steps, you’re overwhelming rather than building confidence. Pick the ones that matter most for establishing the idea that you thought carefully about the problem.

Try this tomorrow

Next time you need to present recommendations to a group, don’t start with your conclusions. After identifying the problem you aimed to address, open with one sentence about your process: “I approached this by…” Then move on to explain what you found.

Pay attention to how the conversation shifts. Instead of credential questions, you’ll get methodology questions—which is exactly what you want. Those questions mean your audience are engaging with your thinking.

Showing your working isn’t about proving you’re qualified. It’s about making your reasoning process visible enough that your audience can evaluate whether it makes sense—which turns out to be far more convincing than any credential you could claim.