A sales team of twenty people were competing with each other in a friendly, month-long contest. At their end-of-month meeting, the manager got up and announced the two winners. Everything was fun and upbeat … until he said this: “If the rest of you slackers were as intelligent and hard-working as these two, maybe you’d have been up here!”

See what I mean? “Motivation through Shame and Insults!” What was he thinking? (It didn’t work, by the way. The team was furious.) Sadly, this sort of thing happens every day, and it boggles the mind. How can you explain it? I mean, seriously, don’t they know?

Here’s the thing: they don’t know. And that’s the key to the whole problem.

If you asked him, I’m sure that manager would agree that insulting and shaming people was a bad idea. But he did it anyway. Why? From what I’ve seen, the most likely explanation is that he simply didn’t realize his words were insulting and shaming.

The truth is, people don’t generally do things they think are stupid. In fact, people usually have the opposite intentions: they think what they’re doing will be helpful, or that it will connect them with others. It doesn’t seem like it at times, but people’s intentions are almost always good, even when their actions send a different message. I know this was the case with the manager in our story. But instead of running what he was going to say past someone ahead of time, he went in there with only his good intentions, and winged it. The result? Bonehead move! And a major hit to his effectiveness as a leader.

The lesson?

“Don’t Wing it. Work on it!”: Plan and Get Feedback.

Bonehead moves like these happen to all of us, and they cost us more than you can imagine. They keep us from having the influence and impact we could, and from being as successful as we – and the whole team – otherwise would.

Don’t make the same mistake. Start planning what you’re going to say and getting feedback on your plans. I know it takes a little more time, and you need to find the right person to give you feedback. But you won’t believe the difference it will make in your work and life. And not doing it is simply too costly.

There are two big mistakes people make with PowerPoint: 1) They make the slides the star; 2) They have boring, unreadable slides.

Most of the advice for improving PP presentations focuses on the second item. But I think the first is much more important.

Here’s the classic example of making the slides the star, and I’m guessing you’ve seen this too. The screen is front and center, the lights are dimmed (so people can see the screen), and the presenter is off to the side at a podium, reading their notes—which happen to be the same, word for word, as what’s on the screen.

Friends, that’s not a presentation. That’s torture. And in large part because there’s absolutely no personal connection with the speaker.

Think about this for a moment. I was at the National Speakers Association’s national convention last Summer. This is an organization made up of the most professional, experienced, and successful speakers in the world. In other words, it’s a group that knows how to connect with an audience! And you know what? In not one of the general sessions did I see a single slide. Not one. There’s a lesson there for all of us.

Being effective with your audience is about connecting with them. And that’s not about slides, it’s about you. People relate to people. Your best tools for connecting are your voice, your body, your stories, and your expertise.

The message is, if you want to improve your presentations, focus on you first and your slides second. Here’s how.

First, as you plan your talk, write the first draft as if there won’t be any slides at all. Just think about what you want to say. Or better yet, what your audience needs to hear. Come up with a good story to open with, and a closing that summarizes your points and sends people off on a positive note. Then, once you have your comments in place, NOW you can start to add in slides, but only to reinforce the points you’re making. Here’s an example:

You: “Today I want to talk to you about three things.”
Slide: 3 Things

You: “The good”
Slide: (Under 3 Things, first bullet appears) The Good

You: “The Bad”
Slide: (Second bullet) The Bad

You: “The Ugly”
Slide: (Text fades to single image) Photo of you in a truly awful sweater.

See? Single words. Large type. No more than four lines of text. Single images. Sparse. Simple. Supporting. This way, you’re the contact, you’re the leader of the discussion, and the slides support you, not the other way around.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t still get nervous beforehand, because I definitely do. Here’s a tip I use that helps: “Be the Host.”

Before my presentation begins, I look out at the audience and imagine I’m hosting a dinner party, and they’re my guests. So, I don’t see them as strangers, wondering who I am (and who I think I am to be coming in here telling them anything), but as my friends, who are genuinely interested in what I have to say. They’re not sitting in judgement of me, demanding I earn their respect or be quickly dismissed. They know and like me already, and are looking forward to spending some time together. Best of all, I’m not frightened at the thought of going out there and making a fool of myself. I’ve planned things out, I’m feeling good about what I’ve prepared, and I’m genuinely looking forward to sharing it with them and making sure they enjoy themselves. And you know what? They are going to enjoy themselves—and I am too.

This might seem silly, but it works for me. No, it doesn’t get rid of all my nerves, but it does help quite a bit.

One of the problems with stage fright is that it gets us thinking only about ourselves—Are they going to be able to see me shaking? Will I remember my script, or even my own name, for that matter? Will I ever live this down?—when what we really need for an effective presentation is to be thinking about the audience—How can I help them? What do they need to know from me? How can I make sure the material is clear and resonates with them?

That’s the beauty of the “host” technique: It lowers my fear levels, boosts my confidence, and gets me back to a place where I’m actually looking forward to the presentation. Most important, it gets my focus off of myself and back on the audience where it belongs.

If you’re someone who dreads giving presentations, next time try the “Be the Host” technique. And, if hosting a party isn’t the image that works for you, I’m sure you can think of one that does. Whatever you choose, try it out next time and let me know how it helps. Who knows? Maybe you’ll start loving giving presentations too!

The idea grew out of a habit of mine to take this week between Christmas and New Year’s to reflect on the year past, and think about the one to come. But really, it’s a little reflection and a lot of thinking about the year to come. What am I going to do next year? What am I excited about? Where are things going to be this time next year? It’s a fun and helpful process, but since this New Year’s Day will also New Decade’s Day, I’m changing things a bit this year. Instead of focusing only on 2010, I’m also thinking about 2020.

How about you? Where do you want to be in ten years? What’s your 2020 Vision? How different will things be then from the way they are today? Most important, what choices will you make, starting today, to put you on a path to getting there?

There’s an old proverb that says, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is right now.” What better time than the start of a new decade to take that idea to heart? Let’s plant some trees, shall we?

Here’s a great gift to give yourself this holiday season: 1) Come up with a ten-year vision for yourself that you’re excited about. 2) Start making choices today that support that vision.

One last thought. As it says in Don’t Just Talk, Be Heard!, “The single most important factor in a person’s success is not their knowledge, education, experience, or charisma, it’s their ability to communicate effectively with others.” Whatever vision you come up with for yourself (or your team), your communication skills are going to be key to getting there. After you come up with your 2020 Vision, let’s find a few minutes to talk about ways I could help you get there. Drop me a note or give me a call. I’d love to have the conversation. And I’d be honored to help.

Happy New Decade!

Be Heard!

“Peter, where are you? What are you doing?”
“Don’t come in here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s something you’re not going to like!”

Another example: Coming home from playing at a friend’s house, as soon as we got in the car, Peter announced, “When we get home, I’m heading straight upstairs to play, because I’ve got something COOL in my pocket!” He had “borrowed” (without permission) a tiny lego piece to replace one he’d lost at home. I’m not even sure he considered it stealing, and I’m definitely sure his friend would never have noticed it was gone. But we had a little talk, nonetheless, and he returned the piece the next day, with apologies.

Funny stuff. And I know he’ll figure all that deception stuff out soon enough, so I’m appreciating the innocence while it lasts!

Speaking of comedy … Peter’s been working on Knock-Knock jokes lately. (His favorites: “Awtch. Awtch who? Bless you!” “Boo. Boo who? Oh, you don’t have to cry!” “Tank. Tank who? You’re welcome!”) So, he’s starting to get the format, but one of the classics tripped him up. I’ll spare you the whole routine, but his version of the punch line was, “Banana you glad I didn’t say flower again?”

This next one isn’t so much classic comedy as it is a classic parenting situation. We were talking over lunch. Peter started to tell me about someone he’d seen earlier who was, well, as he put it, “really fat … and short!” (Oh dear.) Summoning up my best, Happy Inclusive Parent voice, I said, “Well, I guess people come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?” To which, after a short pause, he replied, “But there’s no triangle people.”

Boy’s got a point there.

Finally, this isn’t from Peter, but it is actual conversations overheard recently during a visit to Santa. First, a little boy, probably 7 or 8, asked for a wide-screen plasma TV. Santa, who seemed to know how to stand up for himself, replied, with a smile, “Well, I don’t know. That’s a pretty tall order!” Then, a little girl about the same age got up and said, “I want infinity money, and …” at which point Santa interjected, “Okay, no, you have to get down now. You can’t ask for anything more after ‘infinity money.’ ”

Infinity money. That’s quite a concept.

Whatever you wish for this Christmas, may all your wishes come true! And if, by chance, you actually get infinity money, please visit our web store! :-)

Merry Christmas!

The point is, when Margret first introduced me to her folks, I can’t imagine they were too thrilled. I mean, I’m sure I was nice and upbeat and all that. But still, a musician? For their little girl? (Margret is the youngest of seven.) Honestly, it must have sent shivers down their spines. But if it did, they never let me know. From the very first day, Joyce and Jim welcomed me into their family, and have shown me nothing but kindness and respect ever since.

In recent years, Joyce has taken to referring to her children and grandchildren as “Wonderful, beautiful.” She’ll write in birthday cards, “To wonderful, beautiful Peter!” And tell them in person: “Hello, you wonderful, beautiful child!” I must confess that it seems a little over-the-top to me at times, but I can be something of a party-pooper, too, so pay me no mind. The truth is, it’s sweet and sincere, and the kids love her, as does everyone in her life. Or, to be technically correct, I should say, “as did everyone in her life.” Joyce passed away this last weekend.

Joyce Lenarz was 86 years old, the mother of seven children, and had just celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary. She died at home after a hospice period in which her family was able to provide round-the-clock care right up to the end.

I’m thankful to Joyce for many things, number one being welcoming me into the family in the first place. And what a family it is! As I first got to know the them, I used to joke that they were the Von Trapp’s from The Sound of Music—and the joke wasn’t that far off. Two strong, supportive parents; seven genuinely nice and loving children who got along with and cared about each other. The family would even sing together—in three-part harmony—as they cleaned up after meals. (See what I mean?)

Now, no family is without its tensions and conflicts. And my Von Trapp jokes used to irritate Margret, I think for that very reason. But still, one of the greatest good fortunes in my life has been to find myself a member of Jim and Joyce’s family. I’ll be forever grateful to them for making it so effortless.

The second thing I’m thankful to Joyce for came as something of a surprise to me: The chance to experience the beauty of a dignified death. You hear about it, but to see it for yourself is an inspiration. Which is not to say it wasn’t difficult, because of course it was. But so is birth, as well as much of life itself. Joyce’s process, as well as the way the family embraced and supported the process, was truly beautiful to me—and important. I’m sure the rest of my life will be better for having been a part of it.

Finally, I was reminded of the importance of having conversations while we still can. As well as Joyce’s passing went, I also imagine it left some unresolved issues and regrets. How could it not? Can every problem we have with others be resolved before we go? I don’t suppose so. But it seems to me much better to have tried and come up short than to have avoided it until it’s truly too late. In any case, the reminder gives me a new opportunity to test the theory—and I will.

So, for that, and all the rest, thank you, wonderful, beautiful Joyce. You’ve made a real difference in my life. You will be missed.

How about you? Any conversations you would regret not having if it got to be too late? As you head into the holidays and find yourself passing the peas to Uncle Hank, who’s always busting your chops, or cousin Cindy, who just can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business, take a breath and think about it. If so, lighten up, open up, and find a way to have the conversation. It doesn’t have to be today, but do try to do it while you still can.

Back then, I was on the road full-time playing music, and had a band of my own, called, originally enough, The David Levin Band. We played a lot of places in the middle of nowhere and had a good bit of fun doing it. (A sad sort of fun, in retrospect. But hey, we were young!) I should also say that I wasn’t much of a band leader. In those days, I was generally more interested in hanging out with my buddies than running a business. But during one particular band meeting I apparently felt some sudden misguided impulse to take charge or something because I distinctly remember saying to the band, “Guys, this is not a democracy!”

Twenty-five years later, I’m still paying for it.

Actually, we laugh about it now. (I’m still friends with several of the guys.) But the point is, we remember it. And I have no doubt it played a role in that band breaking up not long afterward.

There’s a famous quotation, attributed to Grace Hopper, that says, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.” I’ve always liked the quote, and I’m sure it’s true in a lot of situations. But communication is not one of them. In fact, with communication it’s the opposite. Once you drop that bomb, that’s it. There’s no taking it back. No do-overs. And the truth is, it’s ten times harder to undo a communication mistake than it is to get it right in the first place, if the mistake can even be undone at all.

Communication is too important to just go with your gut in the moment. If you have something that needs to be said, take the time to say it right. Think it through ahead of time. Plan it out. Be on the lookout for any disconnects. And, of course, make sure to run it past a feedback buddy first.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” you say, “It wasn’t my fault.”

I understand. And I didn’t say it was. But who’s at fault is not the point. The point is that the relationship has gone bad, and that’s no good for either of you.

Besides, I’m not saying you should apologize for whatever it is you’re disagreeing about. In fact, doing so might do more harm than good. The most important thing here is that whatever you say has to be authentic and heartfelt. Apologizing for something that you didn’t actually do is likely to be neither. And it could even be seen as being manipulative, which is even worse.

What you can—and should—do, however, is express sorrow over the state of the relationship and apologize for whatever you’ve contributed to it.

Example: “I’m really sorry for the way things have been lately between us. I know I’ve done some things that have offended or hurt you in some way, but I sure didn’t mean to. I’ve always [enjoyed/liked/respected] you, and don’t know why things should have to be  this way. I’d sure like them to be better. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”

The beauty of this approach is that by focusing you on the relationship rather than the conflict, it puts you in a more open, humble, and generous place, which tends to bring out similar feelings in the other person. Will it fix every problem? No. Sometimes people are too attached to a conflict to open up and let go of it. But a lot of times it will. And either way, it will always make you feel better—a lot better, in fact—and that by itself is reason enough in my book.

Except, wait, you’re going to be an online business. Right. So, your URL is especially important. Okay, let’s see about that. Hmm. “Pen Island”? Good. penisland.com? Oh dear. Maybe not so good.

When I first heard of that site, well, I laughed. A lot. (It’s for real, by the way. Or for sure at .net.) But after that, I thought, “How is that possible? How did they miss that? Did they not run it past anyone?”

Folks, if all I do in this life is get a few more people to start getting feedback on their important communications, I will die a happy man. Seriously, I don’t know what it is about getting feedback that people resist so much. OK, I probably do: No time; Uncomfortable; Hard to find a good feedback buddy; etc. Also, I’m sure some folks just don’t think they need it. Yes, getting feedback sounds like a good idea, in general. But with this particular item they’re working on, well, you know, they’ve worked it over pretty well. Given it some good consideration. This one’s fine. So they make their big presentation, go into that important meeting, send out that critical email, or pick a URL without running it past anyone first.

Does it always come out as badly as with Pen Island? No. But it could always be better, and frequently a LOT better.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe when what’s in front of us is “good enough”, we can’t imagine the difference “excellent” would make. The problem is, I do know the difference it makes, and it breaks my heart to see good enough when I know it could be so much better.

You’re just going to have to trust me on this: Getting good feedback is the single most powerful thing you can do to improve your communications.

I’m not saying you need to get feedback on every single thing that comes our of your mouth, or your keyboard. My standard is this: If the communication is important enough to plan out, you should also run it past someone first.

The take-home message? Get feedback. Get feedback. Get feedback.

First, let me say that this is a really good guy who I like a lot. He’s a senior-level leader with a large healthcare organization. But to suggest that mentoring is a substitute for communication coaching, well, to quote Marge from the movie Fargo, “I’m not sure I agree with your police work there, Lou.”

Consider this excerpt from Don’t Just Talk:

“It might seem like getting feedback would be enough to help you make the changes you want, but feedback only goes so far. Here are some of the differences between feedback and coaching:

Feedback doesn’t offer solutions. It’s easy for someone to say whether they like something or not. Having suggestions for what to do differently is another matter. Coaches have suggestions.

Feedback is not based on your individual needs. The reason I need to spend time with a client at the beginning of a program is so I can assess their needs. Which gaps do they have? What negative assumptions are working against them? What are their goals for themselves? How do their various relationships factor into the equation? Without knowing that, I can’t be sure my advice would be helping them—and it could even hurt. Coaches can assess your needs and adjust their recommendations accordingly.

Feedback lacks expertise. I can say with great confidence that I am not the person to give anyone tips on their golf swing. Nor, I imagine, would Tiger Wood’s swing coach be the best choice to help someone communicate more effectively. (Unless, perhaps, their concern is about effectively addressing the ball.) A lot of people can have an opinion, but advice from someone who has expertise on the subject at hand is generally more helpful. Coaches have expertise.

Feedback doesn’t develop new habits. Say you’re working on a presentation and you ask someone for feedback. Even if their comments help you improve that presentation, what about the next one? Without developing new habits and behaviors, you’ll be starting over every time. And the only way to develop new habits is through a process—consistent work over a period of time. Feedback tends to be a single interaction. Coaching is a process.”

Okay, so that’s feedback vs. coaching. Now let’s see how mentoring stacks up:

Offer Solutions. Probably true, but not always. Certainly a mentor can have ideas and suggestions. But I also imagine many mentors would encourage you to find your own solutions, rather than just telling you what to do. More to the point, what are their suggestions based on? What is their specific expertise in communications?

Individual needs. Also possible. The fact that it’s a personal relationship does suggest that. But their ability to assess those needs is limited by their lack of expertise as a communication coach. (Starting to detect a theme?)

Expertise. Bingo! Unless your mentor happens to be a communication coach or some other professional communicator, mentoring simply does not provide the necessary expertise.

Develop new habits. Maybe, but only by accident. Meaning, since mentoring is generally an on-going relationship, you might develop some new habits on your own based on hearing similar advice over a period of time. But that’s not the focus of the relationship. And it may not happen at all.

With all due respect to my friend who sent the note, mentoring is great, but it’s not the same thing as coaching. And it’s certainly not the same as communication coaching.

The analogy that comes to mind is a professional athlete who has a parent who was also a professional athlete. Yes, the parent has been there. Yes, they were good at what they did. Yes, they have plenty of helpful wisdom to share. But can you imagine a pro athlete saying to their coach, “Sorry, I don’t need to listen to you because I’ve got my Dad or Mom to help me out.” It just wouldn’t happen. Nor should it with communication.

Where does mentoring fit in? I see it as a parallel relationship, something on the side. It’s great to have. And your mentor might make for a good feedback buddy. But rarely will they also be the best choice for your communication coach. Nor should they be. Mentoring and coaching are completely different roles and relationships. They really should be filled by different people.