I
was coaching a team of senior logistics executives once and eventually the time
came for the one person who didn’t really want to be there to make a
presentation. He was an engineer whose job essentially had been to construct
data warehouses in far-flung destinations. By way of pre-amble I asked him what
was his general feeling about giving presentations. “A necessary evil”, he
replied, “that I don’t enjoy”.
He
ran through his presentation as quickly as possible. It was based entirely on
showing us screen shots of a complicated budget approval form. It wasn’t much
fun for anyone and my feedback included: “none of what you showed us was
actually a presentation aid; if you have to use that stuff, at least tell us
where to look; and please, when you run through the ‘Benefits’ list at least
show some enthusiasm there”.
I
made a point of cutting my feedback short and said: “Let’s forget about your
presentation for a moment. You have presumably been to these far-flung
locations. What did you tell your loved ones when you got back”? “Actually”, he replied, “they were quite
upset with me as I hardly contacted them at all, because it was almost
impossible to get a phone signal. I knew they would never believe me so I
started taking photographs of the telegraph poles to show how archaic the
communication systems were. I had plenty of opportunity to do that because the
traffic was an absolute nightmare; we sometimes sat going nowhere for an hour
at a time. The only upsides were that the people were absolutely charming and
food was unbelievably delicious”.
Suddenly,
by getting him to think how he relates the situation to his family rather than to
a procurement committee we had the building blocks for some storytelling. We
had local colour and indications of inside knowledge. We also the potential for
a central plank for the presentation – a striking image that would be memorable
and maybe even sum up the whole situation. At the moment, though, it was just a
snapshot stuck on the guy’s phone as an excuse for why he had appeared to be
ignoring his family.
“Show
me one of those pictures”, I said. As he reached for his phone a smile was beginning
to spread across his face. What we then christened the ‘Mad Telegraph Pole’ had
more wires coming, going, criss-crossing and hanging loose than you could even
begin to count. Then, to my delight, he reached his own conclusion: “actually,
this would be a good way of explaining why I have asked for so much in the
infrastructure budget”. Bingo! To my even greater delight, the man who just
a few minutes earlier had been declaring the process a ‘necessary evil’ said:
“I’m quite looking forward to doing this presentation again”.
We
hear a lot about the need for storytelling, but few go on to explain what to actually
do about it. As I have said before, it is often the apparently trivial things that
can provide invaluable material. Here’s another tip: Forget for a moment the
people you are planning to address; how do you talk about it to your loved
ones?
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