Your message and other things you say

Giving an aviation safety seminar at the airport in Blacksburg, VA tonight.  Beautiful town and airport, and a packed house of locals in the house.  Big game coming on Thursday, so there were some special activities in and around the town and airport.  Before the seminar, we watched the Outback Blimp106 shoot an approach only to have to circle indefinitely while the ground crew found the airport and prepared the landing spot.  After watching for a bit, I forgot about it and started the presentation at the prescribed time.

By the time I hit the stage, it was almost dark outside, and the windows at the edge of the building faced west towards the setting sun.  About 5 minutes in, I saw a group of ab

out three people gasp and point, and I knew exactly what they had spotted — said non-rigid airship, finally docking some two hours after arriving at the field.  It was just a matter of time before everyone saw it, so I managed to play it into the script and stopped everything and invited everyone to watch the blimp.  Turns out it skimmed by at treetop level with lights ablaze right down the runway.  We probably lost about a minute of presentation, but by stopping and just acknowledging it, we didn’t lose any more than that, and I assume the audience was willing and wanting to see it anyway.

When something external threatens to derail a talk, it’s best to just go ahead and get things out in the open for all to see.  There is much to gain by acknowledging the issue, and much to lose by trying to ignore it.

Listen to your audience.  If they’re tuning in to something else, divert their attention to it so that you maintain control and can redirect it to the proper content at the proper time.

Traveling a few weeks back and found a number of customer service stories from the line of work that seems absolutely determined to provide bad service — the airlines.

After missing one flight (due to no fault of my own — in fact, I ran through the airport and arrived 10 minutes before departure only to be told the plane I was looking at was “closed”.  Another post, perhaps) I made my make-up flight that sent me back to where I’d just come from to make another (later) flight home.  I settled in and prepared to sleep.

The flight attendant, smiling sweetly, started about row 2 to ask folks to move.  Story was something like: “We have to move some people towards the back of the plane for weight and balance issues.“  Being a pilot, this got my attention.  A plane that is out of balance can easily become uncontrollable, with disastrous results.  The attendant received blank stares, and proceeded to the next row.  And the next.  People flat-out ignored her.  Finally she goto my row and asked if I — and my seatmate — would move.  Sure, says I, wanting to live to see another sunrise.

To my surprise, we were asked to move exactly one seat rearward, to the exit row (she was selling more footroom and people still weren’t biting).  So in effect, she moved about 350 pounds about 18 inches on a plane that probably weighed nearly 20 tons.  And this was near or at the existing CG (Center of Gravity) of the airplane.

Now I have degrees in Aerospace Engineering and Mathematics, and am a pilot and aviation safety instructor.  While there is certainly a mathematical and aerodynamic change, I don’t believe for an instant it mattered one whit.  Which as a communications coach, raises one of two questions:

1. Why would an Airline-whose-name-means-change-or-triangle-shaped-part-of-the-head-of-a-river employee deliberately lie to customers, with the likelihood very high that they would be found out?
2. Why would an Airline-whose-name-means-change-or-triangle-shaped-part-of-the-head-of-a-river employee charged with safety of flight issues not be instructed as to the ramifications and parameters that must be met to ensure said safety?

My guess is that the regulations require an able-bodied person to actually be in the window seat of an exit row.  Why can’t that be said?  It would even put the blame on some bureaucrat instead of the person standing in front of me.  Either answer is quite disturbing to me.

Tell the truth or find out the reason.  Else you will be found out.

This is a slightly different sort of post — a travel tip. I’m back on the road after a nice bit of home-bound hiatus. I’m traveling with a new toy — a GPS. I’ve used GPS in aviation for years, had one of the first general handheld positioning units (anybody want to by a Lowrance GlobalMap 100?!), and was able to see first-hand last spring what the in-dash mounted systems could do. I’m fully aware of the technology and was ahead of the curve way back when. But I didn’t stay up on it. Frankly, I’m SHOCKED at how sophisticated the cheap handheld units have become. And while I knew it would get me to my destination in unfamiliar territory, I can’t believe how MUCH I use it. I use even around my own town.

While there are limitations, the information and the speed with which it comes up is amazing. I’m quite aware that most of the traveling world has a Blackberry or other web-crawling device, but I can just about guarantee the for travel and directional information, it’s quicker, safer, and easier to do it on the GPS — especially whilst en route. I am able to see the closest restaurants (made several dining decisions this week based on it), every conceivable shop, and go to the web and download lists of any cult store (I loaded all the Apple stores and spent some time shopping for my next gizmo courtesy of the GPS as well). Mine tracks traffic (free 3 month trial, but I’ll likely renew), also does audio books (which I’ve enjoyed listening to and didn’t have to bring a separate piece of equipment), and even acts as the Bluetooth receiver for my phone (which it does amazingly well). In short, I couldn’t be more pleased with my purchase, and it’s saved me time and headache so many times in two weeks it’s hard to imagine life before it. Tonight I missed a turn in Boston traffic and didn’t even flinch. I was back on course and direct to destination. And I only pack one very small piece of equipment.
I’m just geeky enough to feel like technology rarely sneaks up on me and just non-geeky enough to feel like I’ve got a life that isn’t tethered to a an electronic device (I fought the cell phone as long as I could), but this one has really changed the way I do things. I can’t imagine paying $2k for a built-in unit in the car (although I’ve noted car manufacturers are now bundling the GPS with other niceties that only come with the package) given the ability of the handheld units for a fraction of the cost.

GPS saves time and provides great information when you’re out and about. Even if it’s local but especially in unfamiliar territory.

Saw the importance first-hand last night of connecting with the audience via eye contact and any other way possible.  Presenting to an aviation crowd in a hotel ballroom.  202 chairs set up — brought in another 25 as we reached capacity.  Final tally was 291 and we ended with about 25 people sitting on the floor scattered all over and 40 people standing outside the doors in the foyer listening as they could.  Chairs were put in such places I could no longer easily get up the aisles or transition from one side of the room to the other without walking through the projection beam.  Folks were coming down the aisles to sit on the floor as late as 30 minutes into the program.  The previous night, we crammed 245 in a room set up for 200 (don’t tell the fire marshall).
From a presenter’s POV, it’s a good problem to have, and it drove the energy level way up to be packed.  I’m amazed people would stand for 90 minutes to listen to anyone.  But there were people literally in the corners and probably 25 folks were so far laterally they couldn’t even see the screen.  This drives home the point that the PPT cannot be the presentation.  I admit I did have a few sight gags those folks likely missed.  So coming out of those gags, I made a point to go to them physically and visually, staying a little longer in the corners than I otherwise would, making sure that they felt a part of the program.

I’m always amazed at the reaction of those folks on the back row — probably about a dozen rows back in this case — who perk up when we clearly connect with them via eye contact.  One guy who I connected with the first time lit up with a huge smile when it was apparent I was making a point to him.  When I asked the next rhetorical question, he made sure he was the one to answer.

Since I was unable to easily get back to my laptop and had to handle a microphone issue there (the sound system had some problems), I assigned an audience member to do it for me.  He took on the task with a gusto I could never have mustered, allowing me a needed break for water and a chance to not only connect with him, but stay physically connected to those corner folks at the same time a task had to be done 40 feet away.

Regardless of how you do it, connecting with the audience is critical to a good message.

I was speaking the other night in the first public viewing of a 3-night run.  Wanting to get it right the very first time, I’d done private practice and invited some speaking friends to view a trial run.  I was still polishing (always am), but had the basics pretty solid.  About 75 minutes in to the 2-hour program, a loud crash was following by flickering lights and then a complete power loss.  The 150 or so folks in the interior room and I found ourselves in pitch darkness.  As in, can’t see the hand in front of your face darkness.  Sound system of course died, as did the projector.  The laptop, running off AC but also with a battery, did not (thankfully).

After a long few seconds, the power came back on.  We all waited, it stayed on, we breathed a sigh of relief and continued on.  For about 30 more seconds.  Then the fire alarm went off followed by a voice saying tornados were in the area and to proceed to an interior stairwell.  We didn’t know where that was, but the only thing to do was to dismiss the crowd.  We milled about, looking for such a stairwell when an employee came running in to say we were in the safest room on that side of the hotel, and to stay put.  Others might join us.  We got everyone back in to the room and seated, took a vote and decided to press on.  None of the adverse weather was forecast, and came as a surprise to all.  We finished up, a bit shaken, and only lost maybe 10 folks who decided to brave the storm to leave.  Later newscasts would confirm widespread wind damage, flooding, hail, and power outages.  In our interior banquet hall, we were oblivious to it all.  That’s probably a good thing.

From the presentation side, this is the kind of interruption that is the stuff of nightmares, especially for the first time out of a program.  My training and experience (Q: where do you get experience?!) did me well, which is a nice coincidence, since my topic had to do with preparedness in the face of emergencies (aviation topic).  Thankfully the program was able to continue, but as we milled out (and then back in), I had already crafted several “exits” should the rest of the program be cut short (as it was, we lost 5 minutes and I continued to completion of the program).  I should

A couple of items not on my checklist that are now:

1. Even if you’re running a computer off of a power cord, leave the battery in and charged.
2. Scout out the facility and know what you’ll tell a crowd, just in case.  Even though I had no association with the hotel and had never been there before, as the speaker people were looking to me for direction.
3. Have shortened versions of the presentation at the ready — know what you can omit should the program be unexpectedly cut short
4. Don’t bother checking the weather forecast, it likely won’t be right anyway.

Be prepared.  For anything.

In my training classes, I teach a lot of people whose native language is not English.  Save for a few years of High School German (nur ein bisschen!), I only speak English, however.  While I LOVE listening to the accents I am exposed to, it does pose a problem in communication sometimes.  Today I had an Indian (as in Asia, not American) and a Greek accent present.  I usually find that if my mind is ready before listening to a thick accent, I can listen with little problem, but if my mind wanders only a little, it becomes very difficult and I usually have to ask for a clarification (side note: I expect that this is the same situation that these listeners face when they try to hear what I’m saying.  It’s bears a good reminder to slow down and enunciate when translation could be even a slight issue).

Today I was explaining a phrase that included a word of Greek origin.  When I mentioned it, my student’s eyes lit up, I acknowledged him ready to listen, and what came out of his mouth was just not clear to me.  So I did what is both polite and necessary.  I asked him to clarify his comment, then had to ask again.  The third time is usually an embarassment for both of us, and I was about to resort to spelling when he fessed up that he was telling me what the Greek word was, so in fact, it was Greek to me!  We got a great laugh out of it, he added some rich heritage on the word that I could never have come up with, the rest of the class found it great, and we moved on.

I’ve seen both students and teachers fake it when an accent got in the way of understanding.  Nodding and saying “yes” when the context was clearly not a yes question, just to move on and be done with the exchange.  This is demeaning to both parties and doesn’t help communication at all.  Some cultures promote such listening ’skills’, and it can be difficult for them ever to ask for clarification, believing it is an insult to ask you to repeat yourself.  All of this adds up to a communcation challenge, especially if the group is a mixture of cultures an speaking abilities.

I’m reminded of my uncle who retired as an international pilot for American Airlines.  He finished his career flying to mainland Europe.  I asked if language was a problem and he said, “Oh yeah, you better believe it.  Sometimes a French controller speaking English is worse than no controller at all!“  So what did he do?  “Ask, ask again, and if necessary, ask a fourth time.“  A perfect example where the message MUST be communicated, and accent or language barrier or not, the only way to finish the communication is to simply get clarification in any way possible.

When language and/or accents can be a problem, concentrate on listening and make sure the message is received.

Got a flyer/magazine/catalog today.  One of those vendor rags that’s made to look like a magazine tailored to something I love (flying).  I don’t know how I got on the maillst, and because it’s a topic I care about, I’m only partially miffed that it graces my mailbox about once a month.

Today’s edition came with one of those personalized covers, where right under the banner and picture it says:

“ALAN, if your (sic) flying your plane from (my town) to Oshkosh (the holy grail of aviation shows)…”

Opening with a big fat grammar mistake does not entice me to order from these folks.  Now, we all make mistakes.  Many of you have pointed out I have my own grammar/spelling mistakes from time to time in this blog (and, like this goof, they are often homonymic mistakes, where they pass spell check, but are just lazi-/hasti-ness).  Mistakes happen.  But as the importance of the message goes up (did I just imply my blog might not be that important?  I didn’t think so…), the need for accuracy does as well.

I frequently hear folks use bad grammar in speeches, and it’s easy to observe them pause when they catch themselves.  No need to draw too much attention to the gaff, just correct it and move on.  If it’s printed, published material or given to a live audience  (e.g., cannot be changed as a blog can), a proofreader is a must for image-making copy.  Your CEO’s PowerPoint address and any customer-facing material should always have an extra set of eyes (preferably an English- and image- aware set).
As a side note, I was reading a book yesterday (Why Business People Speak Like Idiots — good read, more later) and ran across a sentence I was sure was bad grammar.  It took reading it five times and finally a mental diagram to convince myself they were write (they were).  If you haven’t read it, Eats Shoots and Leaves is a good book to raise your grammar awareness.

Use correct grammar.  And profread what your right.

I spent much of this weekend at the local No Fluff, Just Stuff conference watching (and critiquing, of course) folks speaking. Like most of us, these folk were not speakers first, but people with a passion who became speakers because others wanted to hear about their passion and what they knew.

While the topic of the conference is not something I spend much spare time on (heck, I couldn’t even understand what some of these folks were talking about — they had acronyms for acronyms for stuff I don’t even understand), it’s always amazing to me to watch folks with a passion get together. For me, this would be equivalent to attending Oshkosh. For these folks, listening to 90 minutes discussing why Spring sprung and they took Rails instead of the Bus and couldn’t find the Ruby (I hate it that they lost the ruby — it sounded valuable) was something that really got them excited. And they didn’t look like a particular athletic bunch, but they kept talking about being agile and extreme, so perhaps I just misread them. They were a clean bunch, judging from how much they used Ajax, and everyone seemed to be retro — they all talked about Groovy.
If you recognize all these topics (not from my description, but context), you’ve identified your niche (and likely your profession). If you think I’m rambling, you probably needn’t register for NFJS, and you likely don’t hang out with computer geeks (anyone offended by the term geek likely isn’t one) much. But you might not understand me and my flying buddies talking about the MDA on the ILS as we come out of IMC looking for the VASI, either.

There is a danger whenever we assume our audience knows what we are talking about. Maybe they do. And maybe they don’t. Acronyms are troublesome because they assume prior knowledge. And while facts and overviews are nice, most folks really want to know the implications and what something means. It’s a communicator’s job to put the facts and the context in terms the audience can understand. Speakers whose goal is to share what they know have forgotten Rule #1, and likely are smart folks who bore (or lose) audiences easily.

Make sure your audience can speak your language.