“There’s no such thing as a dumb question” is what they say.

They are full of shit. There are lots of dumb questions.

And when we need to ask one, it’s embarrassing. We know we should know. We know we’re going to look stupid when we ask, but the answer to that dumb question is what stands between this moment and the moment when we can be done with what we’re doing.

We need to ask dumb questions. If we don’t, then progress stops. We can’t finish.

We need get the answer and, sometimes, no matter how hard we Google it, the answer isn’t forthcoming.

One of my oldest colleagues, a guy I’ve known for more than two decades, has always asked dumb questions—really dumb questions, and more of them than you can even imagine.

His usual approach is to e-mail his dumb questions. I’m not sure whether he e-mails one person at a time or if he mass e-mails a group. Sometimes I’m the only addressee, and on other occasions, I’m one of two or three.

He doesn’t preface his question with “this is a dumb question.” He just asks. I have no idea whether he knew his questions were basic, dumb, easy questions or whether he was just clueless. All I know is that the e-mails ended with a question mark.

How did I respond?

In nearly all instances, I wrote back with the answer. Once in a blue moon, I’d put off answering because I was on overload, but mostly I answered.

Why? Why didn’t I say, “Let me Google that for you?” Why didn’t I write something nasty back about how he should do his own research?

I have no idea. I just answered over and over and over.

Funny thing: I’ve now talked to quite a few lawyers who were also answering his questions. We laugh about it. But we all like the guy. Many of us refer business to him. We respect him and his accomplishments. He’s a very nice person, and he’s a good lawyer.

Do we think he’s a dumb guy asking dumb questions? Nope. In fact, over the years, his questions have become harder. Now, on the rare occasion when I get one of his questions, I usually don’t know the answer. His dumb questions have become pretty tough.

Why did I, and all the other lawyers, answer his questions? I’m not sure. Maybe I’m altruistic (yep, that must be it). Maybe answering him makes me feel smart. Maybe I just like him. It’s hard to say, but I’m not alone in my willingness to help him out. In fact, I’ve never met another lawyer who knew him who hadn’t willingly answered his questions. We all do it.

Asking dumb questions makes us feel dumb. It makes us feel vulnerable. It’s a chink in the armor. We feel less powerful and less like we’re someone others should pay for advice and counsel.

And, when we ask, it results in others helping us, liking us, referring to us, and caring about our success. Asking dumb questions grows our businesses, feeds our families, and enables us to make a difference in the lives of more clients.

Just ask.