I often wonder what a presenter thinks the audience is supposed to do with a statement like this:

• Ignore everything said/shown until the next slide pops up?
• Try to figure out something of value from the slide?
• Make my own conclusions about the data?
• Cross my eyes and hallucinate until I dream it says something important?
• Sleep?

Since the presenter doesn’t know what to do with the information, there is no way the audience will, either.  Let’s break down the statement and its problems phrase by phrase.

“On this next slide…”
I actually love this.  It’s a preview.  It let’s people know what’s coming.  Good beginning.

“…there’s a lot of information…”
The presenter’s goal should be to distill information into manageable chunks.  Every visual should have exactly one point.  Information/data is great, but there needs to be one conclusion (on each slide) from it.  I was focused and ready for “the next slide”, but now I have no idea what deserves my attention.

“…it’s sort of complicated…”
This again sets up a negative expectation.  Apparently I am too dumb to figure out what the data means. 

“…I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this slide.”
Not only am I unable to understand it, but I don’t have time to figure it out.  That which is important is worth my time, so I can only assume this isn’t important. Thus I have wonder what it’s doing in the presentation in the first place.

Use data to draw conclusions.  Use visuals to help you make points.

That has been my experience with a major retailer of late.

Office supply store.  Let’s name it after paper fasteners, say, Paper Clips.

Paper Clips sends me, as a “valued customer”, an advertisement that entices me to buy.  With free delivery, I push the button and and my new printer is on its way.  The rebate offer is against my basic principles of shopping, but it really is a great deal.  Or so I think.

A few days later the printer arrives.  Only it’s not the right printer.  Not even made by the same company.  The UPS label says one thing, the box another.  So the $8/hr droid at the warehouse goofed up — I can accept that.  The printer they send me is worth 2x what the original one was worth before the half-off rebate.  I call up Paper Clips and inform them of the error.  “I’m happy to keep this one,” says I, smiling.  “You want me to charge you the difference then?” says they.  “No,” says I, “you can take it back.“  They offer to come and get it — in a week when I’ll be out of the country.  What are my other options?  Return it to the store. 

So I go to the local store, where it takes them 30 minutes to basically cancel my order.  What they (the floor sales droid and the manager) argue about is how their inventory system is going to handle this.  In front of me.  Finally, I get a credit to my card.  Whew.

Three weeks later, I get my rebate in the mail, in the form of a prepaid VISA card.  Amazing how their system works — apparently I can make a handsome living ordering things and filing an online rebate, then taking the item back locally.  Since thee $100 rebate isn’t mine, I take it  back to the store.  The customer service person immediately hollers, “Mike!” when I explain the situation, and Mike the Manager comes over to solve my problems and provide me service.

When he hears the story, he says, “I would have just kept the card.“ 

“But it’s not my money,” says I. 

“Well, can I have it?” he says, followed by “Just kidding.”  I don’t know whether or not to believe him.  I inform him that there are some holes in their process and I’d expect they wanted to know about it.  He says thanks and takes my card, and assures me he’s taking it to the shredder right away.

As I walk out of the store, he yells over his shoulder, “Thanks for being honest.“ 

Paper Clips is the third closest office supply store to my house.  They have prices that are sometimes better, but not always.  In this business climate, they need loyal customers to choose them over their competitor. 

I didn’t expect anything from them.  But I did expect them to offer.  They have failed to win a customer.

Don’t discuss internal problems in front of a customer.  Make offers to keep customers if you make a mistake.  Make offers to keep customers even if you do everything right.

The speaker trotted out on stage and opened with, “Wow. That was a LOT of information. I guess you understood most of that, but I didn’t. I have no idea what it is you folks do.” That sure isn’t Rule #1 compliant, now, is it?! He then proceeded to mispronounce the name of the company who had hired him twice in the first 10 minutes of the keynote.
While the egregious (I love that word) error is not knowing the audience, a smaller error is admitting it, and essentially separating the audience from the speaker. A speaker should strive to build bridges between the audience and himself, not alienate and separate himself from them.

Know your audience and connect with them.

You send me an email asking for a review of your PPT slides (God forbid!).  I give you three pages of notes.  You respond: “Thanks“.  Yuck.

I get an invoice for services rendered.  I respond with an apology that the billing had slipped my crack-pot accounting staff and the check will be in the mail FedEx in the morning.  I get a one-word reply: “Thanks“.  Heartfelt.

There are probably places for one-word emails: “Buy“, “Sell“, “No“, “I’ll-agree-when-the-depths-of-Hades-freezes-into-a-solid-mass“.  Trying to convey appreciation is not one of them.

Many of us were taught by our parents to be polite: “Please” and “Thank you“.  And that’s a good thing.  IN PERSON.  Where emotion can be carried with non-verbal cues.  Where an explanation of why can be tacked on.  Where a relationship can be forged.  None of that is done in a one-word TY. Best I can figure, it’s either (a bad) habit or it’s a way to appease one’s conscience at supposedly being grateful, when they’re actually too lazy to pick up the phone and call or draft a heartfelt reply that explains their gratitude.  Most of the time the message really is “I got your email“.  And I didn’t need a response from you to tell me that.

I have vowed to not send any such emails.  It wastes my time and yours.

BTW, I got your email.

Resist the urge to respond to an email with a one-word “Thanks”. Instead, craft a meaningful expression of gratitude or just — gasp — let it go.