Being a consultant is often painted as a curious kind of gig. You’re brought in as an expert, a fixer, a fresh pair of eyes. You’re parachuted into a situation and asked to find your way, sometimes with a torch, sometimes with a match. You’re not really part of the organisation, but you’re in it enough to see where the wallpaper peels and where the floorboards creak.

And yet, in many cases, what an organisation really wants is not a consultant, but a Yes Person. Someone who will nod, tweak a few policies, draft a strategy that sounds good in a funding application, and stay out of the way. Not someone who says: “Actually, you need to report that data breach,” or “That hiring policy might be discriminatory,” or “You can’t just make up financial procedures on the fly.”

That puts the principled consultant in an awkward place. You’re being paid to advise, but if your advice doesn’t align with what people want to hear, suddenly you’re “difficult” or “not a team player.” I’ve lost count of the number of times I flagged a compliance issue or suggested we might want to look again at the relevant legislation, only to watch eyes glaze over or see notes quietly binned.

Of course, it’s not always malice. Often it’s overwhelm. Charities, NGO’s, and nonprofits in particular are overworked, underfunded, and stretched in all directions. Governance gets lost somewhere between fundraising, crisis management, and trying to remember what day it is. But here lies the catch: not following the rules because you’re too busy doesn’t mean the rules stop applying.

My recent experiences have brought all this into sharper focus. I’ve found myself caught between regulatory obligations and organisational culture. Between what the law says and what the Board wishes it said. Between duty and diplomacy. Between being kept on and being shown the door.

It turns out that being the person who insists on following the actual legislation isn’t always good for job security.

But here’s the thing. Consultants are not there to be liked. (Though it helps.) We’re not there to tell you your spreadsheets are marvellous or that GDPR is just a suggestion. We’re there to do the job properly, which means sometimes telling uncomfortable truths. It means pushing back. It means being the mirror when everyone else wants a painting.

It also means walking a lonely line. You’re neither staff nor volunteer. You’re brought in for your knowledge, your independence, your professional distance. And when that independence delivers answers that clash with internal politics, it becomes a liability.

I think we need to talk more openly about that. About what happens when consultants are sidelined for doing the job they were hired to do. About how easily good governance is treated as optional until something goes wrong. About how power operates, even in spaces that preach empowerment.

Because the irony is, the consultant who says no is the one who often saves you in the end. They’re the reason your data breach didn’t make the papers. They’re the one who caught the dodgy clause before it became a lawsuit. They’re the one who cared enough to tell you the truth.

So, if you’re running an organisation and bringing in external expertise, ask yourself this: do you want someone who helps you grow stronger, or someone who flatters you into collapse? Because saying yes is easy. Saying no takes’ courage.

And if you’re a fellow consultant reading this? Hold the line. Be the no that needs saying. It’s not glamorous, and it might not always be rewarded. But it matters.

It really, really matters.