Your message and other things you say

The end of the year is always a busy time.  In addition to the obvious Christmas and New Years celebrations, travel, and requisite events, we have two birthdays (my son’s and mine) to celebrate, kids tracked out of school, and now supposed inclement weather (although in NC, when it’s forecast, you can usually count on it not occuring).

Most of us are well on our way to breaking our New Year’s Resolutions (35% of us do by the end of January — citation) and the off days and down time are well behind us as the pressures of a New Year are upon us.  Already 19 days in, the year is getting away.  But it doesn’t have to be that way.
For the loyal readers — both of you — I am sorry I let the time get away and haven’t written in a while. I’m even more sorry that I didn’t have time to play floor hockey with my son every time he asked, ride bikes, take walks, and sit back for long conversations.  On the positive side, I’ve enjoyed catching up with old friends via the ubiquitous Christmas letter, have made some important decisions about work and life, and have had some great moments with family (even now I sit typing this with a little girl in my lap and just explained why I like my kids’ mom more than their grandparents).
I’ve not given up noting life and the mysteries of communication.  In fact, I’ve been busy taking even more notes and have more material than I could ever write here.  One day, perhaps, I’ll just point you to the book.

In the meantime, I am more than ever committed to making each moment count, making each contact matter, and make each message make a difference.

Make the most of your life.  Begin today.

Getting back to some of the many presentations I saw at conferences in the past month.  I am still digesting all the stuff I’ve seen, and I selfishly feel that I have benefited more than I’ve helped others this month.  But in rational moments, I realize that this helps others in the long run.  Very much akin to marriage or parenting — a person who takes care of themselves (let’s not consider the selfish extreme to this line of thinking) can be a better spouse and parent.

One of the day-long seminars I attended was a fascinating day composed almost entirely of lecture.  In fact, other than having a few moments to read some materials and possibly chatter with the person beside me, it was mostly just a ’sit back and listen’ presentation.  Not the kind of stuff that legends are made of.  But this person was just about a legend, and I found the time flew by and I hung on almost every word.

The problem was the most boring part of the seminar — about 45 minutes worth — was immediately following lunch.  I looked around about 20 minutes after the return from lunch and there were literally hundreds of folks (very large audience) either asleep or soon to be.  The sad thing is that just moving that content to a better time and using some of the more fascinating content to the post-lunch slot would have made the entire day seem wonderful, rather than just 5 of the 6 hours.  It’s a simple thing, but understanding the competition for attention and planning accordingly is paramount to full engagement.

No one likes to speak as the tryptophans kick in.  But sometimes it’s unavoidable, and it’s STILL the speaker’s responsibility to engage and keep the audience’s attention.

Have sometime lively for any time slot just after a meal.

Working with The Boy’s Tee Ball team tonight.   We’ve really been working on his throwing.  Hold the ball high.  Step — throw — follow through. Sometimes he does; sometimes he doesn’t.  Tonight for the first time, we seemed to have a breakthrough.  There was even an occasional ‘POP!’ in pop’s glove.

Then we had a slide toward the abyss.  Arm out to the side.  Leg out to the side.  Ball sailing into the outfield.  All the prodding in the world wasn’t getting it done.  So the ‘real’ coach walked up, likely hearing my frustration at trying to get the proper behavior.

“Let’s see you throw, boy,” says he.

And The Boy proceeds to uncork the fastest ball yet.  Right in the glove.  Three more followed just like it.  I laughed hard and loud.  When the coach showed up, he showed his best.

But just like speakers who are “gamers,” we all know that if he doesn’t continue to work and practice the correct way, but rather saves it for a few select showings, then soon there will be others who can throw harder and better, and in game time, he might not be able to do it right.  When the rushed throw under pressure is needed, it might hit mom in the bleachers.
If we view our communication skills as presentation skills that can be turned on and off, then when it comes time to communicate well, we may not be able to turn them on correctly.  Our prize presentation might end up in left field — left out.  But if we communicate and practice every time we open our mouth, we won’t know when it’s game time or practice — we’ll Just Do It! And if there are tweaks needed to our games, get a coach.

Practice like you want to play.

Been a long time. I’ll get back to it. Promise.

Did have the thrill of attending Edward Tufte’s last week. I’ll have more about the seminar later, but I snapped this picture in the lobby. I was left wondering what message I should take away from this.

When I went in to the seminar, the table was front and center — and empty. This picture was taken on the way out. Makes one wonder what happened during the seminar that the rules changed (and the table moved).  But the flower was a nice touch.

It sure felt like what happens when you tell a small child not to do something. The urge is almost too great to resist. All they want to do is what you said not to do. Playing reverse psychology is a slippery slope for a presenter.

Rules that don’t make sense, comments that are clearly not backed by anything, and even crazy administrivia all serve to undermine the credibility of the presenter.  We have to fight hard to get credibility (and Tufte talked about credibility a lot), so it doesn’t make sense to give it back so easily.

Make all the content matter.  Make it consistent.  Make it credible.  Don’t give a reason for people to not believe.

Watched an interaction at a meeting today that was really quite humorous.  A person with laptop in tow was being asked direct questions by another person.  One question sparked a lightbulb that only Google could answer.  So laptop popped open and attention was turned to its display.  Party #2 with questions to ask seemed taken aback by the attention that had been transferred from her and was now focused on the computer.  The guy reading the web made the comment, “Go ahead and talk to me, I’m listening.  I’m just going to look this up.“  He never so much as looked up, while he was looking up.

The response from the other person in the conversational was predictable.  Her posture noticeably changed.  She was much less animated.  Why bother, after all, when your audience isn’t even looking at you.  And her countenance said she didn’t feel very important.  But since she had been told point blank to keep talking, she pressed on, clearly not confident her message was being received.  And it wasn’t.

When an audience can not or will not listen, it doesn’t do much good to press on with information. A simple, “I’ll wait” may be a better response.  We all face mind-share competition in getting our message out.  My kids can find most anything to avoid having to look me in the eye and listen to me, but I demand it before I press on with an important point.  And we should demand (or rather, offer) the same.  If they aren’t going to receive the message, we’re not doing them a favor in attempting to deliver it.

And if the attention is our fault as the presenter… well, that’s our fault, and we get what we deserve.  After all, Rule #1…

Don’t deliver material to an audience that won’t receive the message.

My 5-year-old son watched his cousin play in a basketball game.  She was the largest and most athletic girl on the court, scored 22 of her team’s 26, and led them to an emphatic victory.  His comments revealed the impression it made on him, especially in light of his own league starting later in the week.  “Dad, am I going to be the tallest kid on my team?“  I could see where this was headed — he clearly associated “tallest” with “best”.  While I’m thrilled he wants to be the best, I want him to get another lesson than “you’re born with it.”

After contemplating, I realize that adults have the same mentality, just covered up with more social grace.  We rarely put ourselves voluntarily in situations where we don’t expect to be the best, if not at least successful.  And it hurts our ability to become better.  If my goal is to be a better (the best?) tennis player, I do myself a disservice (pun intended) to play only with players who are as good or not as good as me.  I get better by playing better folks.

I just finished a course this week where a participant gave the feedback — “I’m glad you pushed me.  You didn’t let me skate.“  Would that we had such an opportunity in all areas of our lives.  When it comes to communication skills, if we only see folks who are at our skill level or below, it’s unlikely we’ll progress (and we ALL can progress).  That’s why it’s so important to constantly ’sharpen the saw’ (as Covey puts it) and to seek out environments that challenge us.  I’ve found just studying the masters of the craft to be fascinating.  The web makes it easy.  Few people take the time to do it.

Force yourself to be pushed by those who are better than you.

Spent the weekend looking through a viewfinder as the videographer at a friend’s daughter’s wedding.  One of the tips I got long ago about videography is to put the camera on the level you want things to be seen at.  For kids, especially, this means shooting from ground level or near to it.  Kids see from 3 feet or below, so video at 6 feet looking at the top of their heads is not compelling.  It’s also fun to watch the different perspective as a video viewer.
I also work with kids (as a parent, and in other venues).  The response from small children is noticeably more positive when we squat to look them eye-to-eye.

And guess what?  The same is true about adult listeners.  Not the squatting part.  But getting on their level.  If we’re seen as a speaker from out-of-town with no connection or a boss speaking from on high, we do not connect or elicit a response from equals.  Messaging as an equal involves posture (open), position (not behind a desk or stuck on a platform), eye contact, wording (use their vocabulary), and tone, among other things.

Get on the audience’s level.

Went to a niece’s softball game today and also watched a short part of the Little League World Series.  A ball field is a funny place with regard to communication.  I noticed long ago that just about everything that is said is repeated or stated in pairs.  “Good job!  Good job!“  “Play’s at second.  Play’s at second.“  “He can’t hit you.  No way he can hit you.“  In the dugout, the coach’s comments seemed to mimic/mirror one another.  One would shout encouragement; another would repeat the same phrase.  Once you notice this trend, it becomes quite comical (sorry to ruin your next baseball game).
But in a class this week teaching folks how to help others learn their subject, it was noted that repetition is a powerful and often neglected method of teaching.  You likely learned your mulitiplication tables through rote practice and repitition.  The method for learning your multiplication tables was probably repeated practice (oops, already said that).  Your mother even got in the act with, “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times…”

But we have a way of thinking that once we say something, everyone got it.  Rick Warren, noted author of The Purpose Driven Life, says leaders should remind their constituencies every 28 days on exactly what it is the organization should be about.  When you have but one chance to communicate, repetition is an important and powerful way to drive home a point.  Called different things by different folks (I’ve heard it called the Rule of Seven by marketers — say it seven times to get it to take), the principle is the same.  We will learn and remember (like it or not) what is repeated to us.  Parents know this, and cringe at what their children learn from others when outside their control.
Not to say you have to say it the same way.  Creative speakers will find ways to say the same thing different ways, and really make their point stick.  But you’ll hear it until it sticks.

Use (creative) repetition to drive your point home.