Pondering the powerpointlessness of existence.

Why do we exist? Is that chair really there? What is the sound of one hand clapping?  Long have I pondered these mysteries, as I'm sure you have.

Sitting cross-legged, somewhere in the high Himalayas?

No, sitting in a meeting room, somewhere between slide 37 and slide 157 of a powerpoint presentation.

We have Bill Gates to thank for bringing verbal vomit into the digital age. Powerpoint makes it possible for people effortlessly to spew words onto slides, slide after slide, forever, mercilessly, to the last syllable of recorded time.

Actually, you can't blame Mr Gates for inventing a tool which, like any other, can be used or abused.

You can, however, blame Moses.  His coming down from the mountain is the first recorded instance in history of someone using visual aids in support of a presentation.

Two tablets of stone, five points hammered onto each.  A lot to take in. No wonder the human race finds them hard to follow.

There's a clue in the first word of the phrase 'visual aid' - and that's what a slide should be.

Whoever came up with the phrase didn't say 'verbal aid'.  Verbal aids include the lungs, throat, tongue, teeth and other bits we use when talking. Our brain, maybe.

Words belong in your mouth, not on your slides.  For a visual aid to be effective it has to be entirely or predominantly graphic.

Let's say I'm giving you a presentation about a dog.  Here's an example of a non-graphic visual aid.

The only graphic element here is the colour.  You may say there's useful information, but I can tell you all that.  I don't need to write it on a slide.

Unless I say nothing and let you read it in silence, I'm forced to read it out to you word for word.  Which is boring - and suggests you can't read.

Much better, surely, to use an image, such as a photo of the actual dog.

If you have to use words on a slide, then why not set yourself the challenge of using no more than five?  They'll have much greater impact that way.

Because there are so few words here, they become graphic elements in their own right.  Most of the slide is white space (well, purple).  This reduces the information load and gives impact to the few words that you do use.

But perhaps it's a blessing that we've moved on from stone-age visual aids.

There's a lot less wear and tear on arm muscles.

What we can learn from the humble nose-trimmer

A decade has passed since the Innovations catalogue last flopped onto British doormats between the pages of the Sunday papers.

Described as 'the source of gadgets that really ought to be useful', it was full of the stuff that gets a smile from Jones and a sneer from Meaden before Bannatyne puts the boot in.

Highlights included a 'handy portable shredder' and a 'fun, fur-lined, vibrating golf-club cover'.  Solutions in search of a problem. 

Another was the 'battery-operated nasal and aural hair trimmer'.

Now my first encounter with this device shocked me to the core. Maybe it was the picture, which showed a bloke shoving the product up his nose and then sticking it in his ear.

I couldn't see why anyone would shell out £9.99 (incl. P&P UK mainland only) for one of these (reduced from £89.99 hurry hurry hurry).  What's wrong with a pair of pliers?

But as a swift google reveals, the bottom hasn't dropped out of the electro-assisted rhino-depilatory business yet.  There are thousands of the things for sale out there.

They have survived the demise of the Innovations catalogue, and live on in the hearts and briefcases of hirsute Britons.

So I think we can learn an important - and comforting - lesson from the humble nose trimmer.

The fact you can't see value in something doesn't mean someone else won't.

This matters when you're selling something - a product, service, strategy, decision - that you don't entirely believe in.

Thinking about the emotions that drive audience decision-making will help you discover motivators that may work for them, if not for you personally.

Fear of rejection.

With Trimmo, no-one will ever again tell you to go and comb your nose.

The need for security.

Trimmo: sniff with confidence.

The avoidance of embarrassment.

Now you can light a cigarette without setting your nose on fire.

Whatever you're selling, time spent in reconnaissance of audience psychology is seldom wasted.

Except, perhaps, in the case of fun, fur-lined, vibrating golf-club covers.

The 180-degree shift

What's the worst presentation you've ever had?

Mine was when the speaker fell asleep 10 minutes into their own talk.  The speaker, mind, not the audience.  How we laughed.  Actually, perhaps it wasn't so bad.

That was unique.  The usual methods of destroying a presentation include: death by powerpoint, reading word-for-word, speaking in a dreary monotone, arrogance, bafflement, inaudibility, boring them, embarrassing them, patronizing them, confusing them, insulting them, making lame jokes....the list could go on.

Two points here.  First, no-one sets out to fail.  They don't get up in the morning and think 'what's the quickest way I can destroy my credibility today?'  Most speakers are doing their best. They're just going about it the wrong way.

Second, if you study the many reasons why presentations fail, you'll see there's just one root cause: failure by the speaker to engage their audience.

Whatever the purpose of the presentation, success is entirely dependent on engaging audience hearts and minds.  That is, engaging (a) their attention and (b) their commitment so that (c) they take the action you require.

I believe the starting point for engagement is a 180-degree shift: from talking about Me to talking about You.

We live in individual and separate universes.  Call it a design fault, but it's part of being human.  We are self-centred.  I'm at the centre of my universe.  You're at the centre of yours.

If I want to engage you, I have to get out of my universe and into yours.  I have to see things from your point of view, not mine.  And then use the insights gained to shape the substance, structure and style of my communication.

Why?  Because you're the person I need to get what I want, whether I'm selling my product, my big idea, my vision for the company, or simply myself.

How to turn your material from Me-centred to You-centred?

1 - Recognize that your default position, by virtue of being human, is set to 'Me-centred'.

2 - Take positive action to turn your material round through 180 degrees so that it's You-centred.

This means thinking of your audience from the moment you start planning and preparing the communication.

So.  Who are they? How do they feel about this?  How much do they know?  What will turn them on - and off?  Where's the best starting point for them?  How can I make what I want to say as simple as possible?  How can I make it really easy for them to buy into my idea?  What do I actually want them to do as a result?

Here's a warning.  Very often, what seems to us the best way to structure a presentation seems that way because it's structured from our own perspective.  It fits nicely in our own little universe.

For example, you're preparing a proposal changing the way your organisation does something.  Here's your first stab at the structure:

My proposal
'Corners'
NB Importance of timing
Implementation (not my problem)
How it will make things better

This is not a structure, it's a shopping list of points. If there's any logic here, it's in your universe only, no-one else's.  There's reference to something called 'corners'.  Only you know what that means.  This is an entirely Me-centred presentation.

A better way of ordering your material could be as follows:

What is my proposal?
How will it work?
How will it make things better?

This is logical, and easy to follow.  But just because it's logical doesn't make it engaging.  In fact it's still Me-centred: the subject of conversation is still your proposal.  The audience only get a look-in at the end (if they're still listening).  Bring the audience in at the beginning, as well as at the end.  Make them the subject of conversation - and take yourself out of it.

Why do we need to change?
What do we need to change?
How will it make things better?
How will it work? (Now that they're sold on the idea.)

In any communication, there's never a guarantee of success.  But by taking pains to put the audience first, you're far more likely to engage them.

You're the cleverest*/sexiest*/most powerful* person on the planet.

*Delete where not applicable.

Fear.

Even seasoned speakers experience presentation nerves.  Particularly when there's a big audience.

The more formal the setting, such as when you're on a raised stage, the more you're likely to have a sense of alienation.

You're in an 'us v. them' situation, only much worse, because there's no 'us', just you up there.  All alone.

Particularly at the start.  There's ice to break and an abyss to cross before you can get going.  It's like going for a jog in the Andes.

So how to bridge the gap and melt the ice?

Why, by the usual method, of course: flattery.

If you think you're immune to flattery, or curl your lip at the very idea of it, it can only be for one of three reasons:

1 - You're a saint.  Far too wise to be charmed by a flatterer.

2 - You've never been flattered.  Poor you.

3 - You've been flattered, perhaps quite often.  But - and this is key - you've been flattered badly.

Let's be clear about this.  Just because you know you're being flattered, doesn't make it bad. After all, the very fact that someone thinks you're worth flattering is in itself flattering.

No.  Bad flattery is when it's so obviously false that it makes you embarrassed for the flatterer.  It's smarmy, unbelievable, undignified and cringe-worthy.

(Funny how we most often notice this when someone else is being flattered.)

So what's good flattery?

Good flattery, you might think, is sincere.  And you'd be half right, because, in order to feel flattered your audience needs to believe you mean what you say.

But how often do you meet people you genuinely admire?  Suppose none of them are in the audience you have to address tomorrow morning?

If the flattery isn't genuine, it has to be faked.  But properly-faked, with something of the care an expert forger would take over his first Leonardo.

How?  You have to make sure the flattery is (a) well-targeted and (b) evidence-based.  Any evidence will do.

Let's say that you've thought about the people you're addressing and you've decided what they really enjoy is feeling important.  

Don't say something silly, like:

"Wow!  It's such a privilege for me to address such an important group of people!" (Simper, simper.)

Anyone can say that, with no thought or effort.  Plus it suggests this is the first time you're addressing important people, which doesn't say much for you.

Instead, how about something well-targeted and evidence-based, like this:

"Last week I looked at the final confirmed list of people attending this conference.  And I have to say I was excited. Because sitting here, in this room, today, are the 300 most important people in the dog-biscuit industry. As you know, we're in a golden age of canine snacking.  And you're the visionaries who've made it happen..."

OK, it may be laying it on with a trowel, but it's evidence you've actually made the effort to research your audience.  This is flattering.  

The '300 most important' figure injects further evidence in the form of measurement.  Fact: there are 300 people in the audience.  You've bothered to count them.  Who's to say if they're the most important people in the industry?  A good handful of biscuit barons is good enough.

If you've read your audience right, and they do indeed aspire to being canine snacking visionaries, they'll happily take the credit for ushering in the golden age.

Good flattery does no harm.  It makes people feel positive about themselves and positive about you.

A good way to break the ice and bridge the gulf.