Audiences pay attention at the start of every presentation. They want to know the context and objective of your presentation and what they can get out of it—before they continue to listen. Even with a compelling reason to pay attention, they also want to determine if it is worthwhile to listen… to you.

You can determine when you have your audience’s attention simply by listening to their nonverbal clues—their body language: they are sitting upright, looking at you, alert, bright-eyed. Ever look around while presenting and see the tops of people’s heads? Their heads are not bowed in deference; they are fiddling with their cell phones. And not listening to you.

You must connect your audience from the very start, employing an engaging and memorable opening, and giving them a compelling reason to listen. An effective opening:

• Captures, and retains, your audience’s attention.
• States your objective and its benefit to your audience.
• Previews your call to action—what you want them to do when the presentation is over.

Consider using one of these techniques to open your next presentation with purpose.

A relevant story or anecdote. Audiences love stories. Telling a story or an anecdote that is directly related to your presentation, especially one that makes the point you are trying to make, can be especially powerful and motivating (no ‘war’ stories though). Tell your story so that your audience not only hears your words, but more importantly, can visualize the story and action. In my experience, opening with a story is far and away the best start you can make. It is, however, also the most difficult.

Metaphor or analogy. Metaphors as well as analogies allow your audience to see your point through a different lens—a lens that is familiar and readily understandable. A metaphor is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable (your presentation as a journey). An analogy, on the other hand, is a comparison between two things, typically for the purpose of explanation or clarification.

Metaphors open people’s minds to think differently, whereas analogies allow people to see concepts more clearly.

Provocative question. You can ask two types of provocative questions. The first, a rhetorical question, doesn’t require an out-loud answer; your audience answers it in their heads. A second, real question requires an answer even if the answer is a show of hands. Both types of questions must be easily answered by the majority of your audience and, of course, must apply directly to your topic.

Contemplative quote. A well-chosen quote gives your audience something to think about. That’s a good thing because a thinking audience pays attention. Consider a quote with a moral, especially when there is an obvious lesson and one that slowly unfolds as it sinks in; one that invokes that “ah-ha” moment. Also, a well-chosen quote that alludes to your objective can help compel your audience to act.

Startling statement or remarkable fact. Because you can impart a wealth of information, divulge information that makes your audience sit up and pay attention.

Surprising statistic. People love statistics. Offer a statistic that is designed to elicit an “I didn’t know that!” response from your audience, one that deepens their knowledge of your topic.

Bold promise. While this can be a dicey opening—you must be able to fulfill that promise, after all—it nonetheless impresses audiences to the point where they think to themselves: “Hmmm. I’d like to see that happen.”

Trend report. An insight into the future is always welcome. Be sure to use a trusted source based on valid research. Beware any pie-eyed prediction that might garner skepticism.

“Write this down for future reference…” Using this technique enables your audience to become immediately involved and engaged in your presentation. Try one of these examples: a short, pithy quote; a list of features and benefits of a product or service; the top five reasons for some subject. Be creative. Make sure it relates directly to your presentation, is worth writing down, and most especially is worth reading later.

Finally. Your opening is crucial to focusing your audience on your presentation. Make sure your opening, first, relates directly to the content and objective of your presentation and, second, comes from your audience’s point of view—stated in a way they can readily understand your topic and appreciate its benefit to them).

Prepare a tight opening, polish it to perfection, then practice it until you can deliver it flawlessly. After you have secured your audience’s attention, you can smoothly transition into the heart of your presentation.

To succinctly summarize: Start by grabbing them, then don’t let them go!

—Rich Maggiani

Because I enjoy telling stories, especially in business situations, my first thought was to begin this treatise with a story about a poor method for opening a presentation so that you can learn how dreadful this kind of opening can be.

This opening, one that you probably see and hear far too often and most likely bores you to doze off, seems to pervade far too many presentations. But I figured you would be so bored reading about it that you would not even make it to the end of this first paragraph. Understandable.

Story. Instead, I’m going to start by telling you a story about one of the first times I ever gave a presentation, and how I quickly learned how to start with an engaging opening.

The day before, I was practicing my presentation in front of a valued colleague, Philip. So I started:

“Good evening. Thank you all for coming here tonight. It’s so good to see all of you. I’m excited to speak to you about…”

“Stop!” Philip exclaimed.

I stopped. And looked at him. “What?”

“Rich, that is just about the most boring way to start. Everybody is so used to hearing that crap, that they immediately stop listening.”

“But,” I protested. “I want to welcome them.”

Philip frowned. “And fall asleep,” he continued

“And thank them,” I feebly added.

“Forget that crap. You want people to listen from the moment you open your mouth, to be on the edge of their seats, to hang on your every word.”

I smirked. “This is a business meeting. I’m supposed to tell them how they can communicate better with their prospects and customers. That’s got to inherently be a bit tedious.”

We just looked at each other a bit, Philip with that you-just-don’t-get-it look on his face.

“Hang on my every word,” I said a bit sarcastically. “Right.”

Philip continued to stare at me. There was that momentary stillness between us where time seemed to suspend. Somewhere in that stillness, I capitulated.

“Okay,” I said with some resignation. “What do I do then?”

He paused for effect.

“Tell them a story,” he said quietly.

A confused look crossed my face.

“A story?”

“Yes. A story,” he reiterated.

“A story” I said again, incredulously.

“People love stories,” Philip continued. “Tell them a story about communicating with customers, about marketing to prospects. Something with a beginning, middle, and end. A story with substance, purpose, and meaning. Something with an edge, a conflict that gets resolved in the end. A story with a moral… or a lesson.”

“A story,” I said warming to the idea.

“Sure. People identify with stories in many different ways. They can be entertained by your story, and relate your story to their own experiences. Hopefully, they’ll get some greater insight as a result, something that resonates with them. That is what they will remember. Stories can be incredibly powerful.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“If you tell them a story,” Philip added, “even if they can’t relate your story to their own experiences, they will at least be able to empathize with your story, and by association, with you. They will be carried by the story, because if it’s captivating, they will pay attention until the very last word. They will want to know the resolution, how it worked out.”

I smiled at him. I liked this idea. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself telling the story, engaging the audience, looking them in the eye, watching their reactions, getting into the flow. Emoting. I knew just the story I would tell too. I could just picture the entire interaction.

As if on queue, Philip continued.

“Plus, when you tell a story, people visualize it. They see it in their mind. They not only hear the words, but those words paint a picture in their mind. And you know as well as I that being able to visualize something is paramount to understanding, to remembering, to… well, getting it,” he finished triumphantly.

The presentation. The presentation came. To dispense with formalities, the business group’s director introduced me.

I immediately launched into my story. No pleasantries, no thank yous, no welcomes; just story. And I watched their faces. Many looked surprised.

I moved across the front, first one side then the other. I walked down the aisle. I made points by looking various people in the eyes. I even threw in humorous epithets to describe a couple of the story’s characters. At the end, there were many questions: some about the topic, others about people’s experiences, and some about my story. Clearly, the story resonated with them.

There are many reasons to tell a story when you present. Presentations are all about your audience, and stories engage your audience. Besides, engaging stories move you toward humanity.

—Rich Maggiani

The best communication focuses on your audience. This is especially true when giving presentations. Too often, speakers are temped to call attention to themselves, thinking—erroneously—that they are the star of the show. Other times (although far less often), the focus is on the slides. While both are important components of presentations, they nonetheless must take a back seat to the needs of your audience.

Bottom line: you must discover what your audience wants and needs, then deliver it to them on their terms.

Let’s look at this from a different perspective. Consider the last time you spoke to a preschooler. Chances are you crouched down on one knee to bring yourself eye to eye with the tyke. You might have gently touched the child’s arm to establish a connection. You used the child’s lexicon, choosing your words carefully. You spoke slowly and enunciated clearly. All this to ensure that the child—your audience—would readily understand. In other words, you communicated on their level, focusing the conversation on their needs.

Follow this example when presenting. Focus on the needs of your audience.

Making your audience paramount is the most difficult aspect of your presentation. Your audience is not completely under your control, whereas you, the speaker, and your materials are. A little planning together with some hard work, however, eases the path. Here are some ways to better understand your audience, discover their needs, and connect with them during your presentation.

Do your homework. Invest some time to learn about your audience. Find out where they work and what they do. At the very minimum, find out what they expect to get out of your presentation; in other words, what are they going to do with the information you impart to them. When you know that, you can directly address that during your presentation. Discover what they already know about the topic, and perhaps how you can tap into that knowledge.

Talk to organizers to see what they know about the audience. Better yet, go right to the source and interview prospective audience members. Try to talk to the implicit leaders, people who probably have a better read on the problems your audience faces.

One other major factor: size. How many people do you expect to attend? Will you have a small intimate gathering or a large amorphous group? This number can affect how you engage your audience during your presentation.

Meet your audience. Arrive early before anyone else. As people enter, introduce yourself to them—even introduce them to each other—and get them talking. Ask questions; listen to the answers, and move the conversation along those lines. Breaking down some barriers at this point is easy since there are always early arrivals; the setting, informal and quieter. You can be more personable and less formal. Get to know who they are, why they are attending, and what they expect.

I especially enjoy this part. At the beginning, the room is relatively empty so there is a loose atmosphere in the air. I find that during these more personal exchanges, you become human to your audience. You become, at some level, one of them. I also take this opportunity to meet some people with whom I can establish an immediate rapport, for these are the people that I will focus on at the beginning of my presentation. This gives me some grounding, a deeper connection that the audience appreciates, and it helps me move quickly into being completely audience-centered while I present.

Connect with your audience. Speak to people individually by looking them in the eye for a few seconds; start with those people you met earlier, then move on to others. Move into the audience if you can; this breaks down barriers. Gesture and use facial expressions to emphasize what you say. Be energetic and enthusiastic. Refer to individuals by name. Speak conversationally. Employ the verbal techniques of projection, pitch, pronunciation, pace, and pausing. Get into it—reveal your personality.

I know when I’ve reached this point because I feel a flow to my movements and words; I feel intertwined with my audience by establishing this deeper connection that it brings everyone together. It raises the communication to another level to the point where the entire audience is imbedded in that same flow. While this might sound silly, there have been presentations where, together, the audience and I have attained a certain nirvana, where everyone is engaged, and everything flows as one. As a presenter, I find this incredibly gratifying for both myself and, more importantly, for my audience. Knowing that my audience has been engaged and connected, that they have learned and been enlightened, that they can move on in their professional lives with more information, that they are changed in many positive ways and their work has been enhanced, well…

That is your goal.

—Rich Maggiani

Anyone who has watched a teenager take driver’s ed can empathize—even if that teen isn’t your own. The angst, the “omg, not my car!”. That’s one of the beauties of driver’s ed: the teen learns on someone else’s car. As is my teen. Yesterday, when he came home from school, I was pleased that was the case.

“How was school?” I asked.

“Good.” (Don’t you just love those informative one-word answers?)

“How was driver’s ed?” I persisted.

Pause. Then finally, “It was okay.”

The story. Now, as any parent worth their salt knows, when there is a pause, there is trouble.

“What happened?” I asked matter-of-factly, cutting right to the core.

My son just looked at me with wary eyes. I could see that he was measuring his words in his mind, struggling to decide just what to say.

“The car broke down.” He ventured in a slightly hesitating voice.

Now I knew immediately that this was just the title of the story, that there was much more to hear. The question remained though: could I coax that story out of him? Worth a try. I had a feeling this was going to be good.

“The car broke down.” I reiterated.

He looked askance at me. “Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, not exactly.” He said, his voice trailing off a bit. “What is there to eat?”

Nice try, but diversion will not work.

“Let’s keep to one topic at a time,” I said. “Tell me about the car breaking down.”

“Well,” he intoned in that well-practiced, exasperated, annoyed voice that teenagers perfect early in their ten-year journey toward their twenties. “What do you want to know?”

I know that tone. It might have worked a few years ago in putting me off the chase for the truth, but I was long over that. So I forged on.

“What do you mean, ‘the car broke down?’”

He pursed his lips. “The car stopped running…” he began, paused a couple of seconds, then continued. “After it kinda got into a little accident.”

Whoa. I didn’t expect that. I was a little unnerved. He was in a car with inexperienced drivers, after all. Perhaps I should worry more.

“What do you mean, ‘kinda?’”

Again, the hesitation.

“Torin. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. And so is everyone else.” He stated flatly.

“Then what do you mean by ‘kinda got into an accident?’”

He took in a deep breath. Then it all came out rather quickly.

“The car went over a curb at a corner, kinda hit a lamp post a little bit, scraped a lot on the bottom, then bounced back into the road.” Pause. “Then the engine died.” Another pause. “Just like that.”

I was speechless. And stunned. I tried to envision what had happened, then thought of the students and the instructor, and the driver. Then it hit me.

I looked at him. In my most understanding voice, asked, “Who was driving?”

Right away, I knew I had hit on a sensitive spot. He gazed at me with baleful, slightly watered eyes.

“Me.”

I felt all the air go out of me. I just looked around helplessly. Finally, I sat down on the counter stool. I started to pull myself together.

“Then what happened?”

“You know,” he said, emboldened a bit now that the hard part was over. “Driver’s ed teachers don’t know diddly about cars. I mean, after I couldn’t restart the car, I popped the hood. He got out of the car, looked under the hood, and just stared at the engine like it was alien. He yanked a couple of wires, but clearly, he didn’t know a thing about it. Finally, he took out his cell phone, called his office, and next thing you know, a wrecker showed up. The mechanic got the car running in about two seconds. Ridiculous.”

“So, everyone is all right?”

“Yes.” That exasperated voice again.

“And the car is all right?”

“Hmmm. Not too sure about that.”

“And the driver’s ed teacher?”

The enlightenment. “You know, he’s a good driving teacher, but he knows nothin about cars. He can drive them, but doesn’t know how they work. The mechanic, now he knows how cars work, but I’m sure he can’t teach a bunch of high school kids how to drive one. Don’t you think that’s ironic?

“Yes, I see that.” I said. Because I really did see it. We’ve all said that phrase: “Yes, I see that.” Immediately after someone has explained something to us, and we understand. We see it, even though the explanation was verbal. Seems a little out of context, but, actually, it is not. We understand because we can visualize it, “see” it in our mind’s eye. Stories do that—they enable you to visualize. As such, they are a great way to communicate information. Makes me wonder about how poorly all those bullet-point slide presentations communicate when stories are far more effective.

—Rich Maggiani

This past June, I was attending my son’s lacrosse tournament. We wanted a down-to-earth place to eat breakfast. The locals recommended a nearby diner. Now you know what a diner looks like: silver façade, booths with plastic seats, counter and stools, coffee machines and blenders and that little window into the kitchen, slightly cramped. You can picture it, right? Sounded perfect, so we went.

We walked in and looked around. Lots of people, but no waitresses. After a few moments, the swinging doors from the kitchen popped open. Out walked an elegantly dressed man, tux and bow tie, replete with cummerbund and gleaming black shoes. He approached, bowed, and said in a proper tone, “Good morning gentlemen. Have you a reservation?” I raised my eyebrows. “Apparently not,” he intoned flatly. “Fortunately,” he said in a brighter tone, “we’ve just had a cancellation. Please, follow me.” Turning crisply, he walked toward an empty booth. After we sat, he pompously handed us each a stylish menu. Then addressed me formally: “Could I interest you in our reserve wine list? A crisp white would prove a fanciful accouterment for this lovely Sunday morn.”

Confused? Well, if this had been reality, we would have been too. When you walk into a diner, you expect things a certain way. But not this way. To put it another way, this diner’s look did not match its content.

A more pertinent perspective. A long, long time ago (in a galaxy far away), I was approached by a software company to work on their documentation. The docs were basic reference and how-to manuals, describing their menu and explaining their function. They were written by an engineer—who also had a penchant toward inserting references to popular cultural philosophies and weaving their ideologies into the text. Interesting since this ersatz writer-engineer took pains to make the context of these fairy tales relevant; most ended up mild rants.

Management at the company felt that customers were not using the guides because they were out of date, needing and update to match the current software version. Okay, I said, let me look at them.

Let’s say that the guides were, hmmm, typographically and design challenged. I was presented with a relatively tall stack, about two dozen guides. Three-hole punched. Courier 12 point headings and text. All single spaced. All grey.

“What about a redesign too?” I gently suggested. “Perhaps part of the problem,” I continued, “is your customers can’t find anything in the guides, so they don’t use them.”

They thought about that a moment, then, to their credit, they accepted. What would it cost? How long would it take? Because they were releasing another version of the software soon, they wanted the guides to match. The entire redesign and writing took a year, but we completed them all. And they turned out great.

Perception is paramount. As with the look and feel of a diner, the design of your documents—be they technical, promotional, training, web, reports, proposals, essentially all communication materials—directly affects how they are perceived and received. And used.

Okay, so these are egregious examples. Here’s the point: To be effective, your documents—instructional, promotional, and technical, as well as your web pages, request-for-proposal responses, reports, customer correspondence, essentially all written communication—must meet the demands of document design.

Document design brings together text, graphics, layout, and typography to inform, instruct, and persuade. In our work for the software company, we also incorporated elements that identified the company and helped with product recognition. In other words: branding. We endeavored to be subtle, not overwhelming, but apparent.

Engage your audience. Superior document design compels your audience to engage in your communication.

The effective design of written communication, whether practical or promotional, takes a discriminating eye and intelligent, deliberate design. Document design’s goal is to successfully present information without getting in the way. In other words, design itself, by its very nature, must be all but invisible.

Effective document design requires more than type selection and spacing and color and imagery. It requires a thorough understanding of your audience and their needs: how they will perceive the communication, process its content, assimilate it, and ultimately use it. The fundamental purpose of document design is not to simply “look pretty”, win awards, call attention to itself, nor showcase the designer’s skills, but rather to meet your needs. It must enable people to learn, use technology, make decisions, and ultimately, get their jobs done.

Put another way: a reader’s needs must ultimately drive document design. And when they do, the resulting design moves you closer toward humanity in communication.

—Rich Maggiani

“Reading is dead.”

I had just parked my car in the local library’s parking lot. My seventeen-year-old son, who I just picked up from his lacrosse practice, happily sat next to me. Until I told him of my agenda in the library. That’s when he looked at me with that withering expression teenagers perfect, shrugged apathetically, and returned to his iPod earphoned bliss. As I was alighting to proceed through my attendant tasks, he exploded that ‘reading is dead’ bomb on me.

Being a teenager, I thought he was just being provocative, toying with his Poppa. Except…

Ten minutes later, I got back into the van and laid down my materials. He looked down at what I borrowed, looked at me, and said, “See. I told you reading was dead.” I smiled. I had borrowed two CD audio books and a DVD.

“Okay, Mr Smart Teenager”, I retorted. “If I don’t get information from reading, how do I?”

Quick was his counter. “The Web. Audio and video feeds.” He paused. “That’s why YouTube is so huge.” He smiled at me. “You know, that’s where the computer shows you movies and talks to you.”

I had to smile at that.

What could I say. He was right: YouTube is the number two search engine on the web.

But as we drove, he backed off a bit. This was after I pointed out that he was exchanging text messages. “See,” I said, “You’re engaging in a dead act.” (Don’t you just love payback as a parent?)

A reassessment. “Actually, Pops, what I really mean is that reading books is dead. People just don’t have the stamina for reading books anymore. Lots of pages; long chapters. Look at what we read now. Text messages, web pages, blogs, tweets, stuff like that.”

I thought about that for a bit, and said, “But books are still being published, and people are still buying them.”

“Yeah, old people,” he said with a wry grin. “Really old people.”

“Seriously!” I looked over at him, with my own version of that withering smile.

“Seriously.” He reiterated with raised eyebrows. “Books better start having really short chapters.”

And with that, he plugged back in.

I didn’t think too much about that on the way home, except for the part about the short book chapters. I have some of those books, I realized.

But things have a way of coming back at you and rearing their ugly heads. A few days later, I caught a snippet of a televised movie that brought me up short. The characters (cop-related) were discussing the degradation of society, when one said, “What I truly lament is that in a hundred years, no one will know how to read anymore.” Not “will not read” but “will not know how to read”. Is that where we are heading? This is communication at its most basic: the ability to read, cogitate, re-read only slower this time.

An onslaught of electronic communi­cation. In a recent blog, I wrote about my Kindle. What I didn’t mention is that many of the books that can be downloaded come with an audio component: the Kindle can read them to you. And that just adds to communication without reading. I can have web pages read to me. I listen to and watch recorded webinars; I listen to podcasts and webcasts; I watch You-Tube videos; I watch and listen to televised reports on newspaper sites instead of reading the accompanying articles. Our local Borders bookstore is closing soon. The one in Saratoga New York is already closed. The company is bankrupt. A visit to our local Barnes and Noble supports less reading: a huge amount of floor space dedicated to their Nook and its related products. There clearly is a movement afoot.

All in all, though, I’d have to say that my son is a bit off-base. Reading isn’t dead. But with so many other communication options available, reading appears to be dying. and the amount of material that can be read at a sitting is being dramatically reduced. It must be structured in smaller and smaller bites. This affects all sorts of communication besides books, such as instruction, reports, proposals, and marketing copy. Just take a look at any current college text and you’ll see what I mean: lots and lots of smaller chunks of text, scattered page layout, sidebars, and an overabundance of graphics.

One last point. Perhaps the greatest difficulty in writing is its detachment from the reader. You write; they read; and there is no interaction. It’s a true throw-it-over-the-wall situation. (Just think how easy it is to flame someone online, through an email, a post, or a text, when that same writer wouldn’t think of being that rude in person.)

Now a lot of written online text is accompanied by a comment section, so there can at least be the semblance of a dialog. Listening to audio and watching videos creates a higher level of human interaction that simply doesn’t exist with written text that is read. I, for one, revel in that movement toward increased humanity in communication.

—Rich Maggiani

Seventy-seven million dollars ($77 million)! That is the amount of money SAS AB is seeking in compensation from Bombardier, the Canadian-based aircraft maker, for omissions in Bombardier’s technical maintenance manual for their Q-400 turboprop plane.

Two of SAS AB’s Q-400 planes were involved in emergency crash landings in Denmark and Lithuania, both involving malfunctions in the plane’s landing gear. (No one was seriously injured in the accidents.) As a result, SAS AB grounded their entire fleet.

SAS spokesman Hans Ollongren said, “The incidents were caused by flaws in components not included in the maintenance manual. This is why we feel the responsibility lies with Bombardier.” Ollongren said that SAS has lost about $62 million since the grounding of their fleet of Q-400s. “There are other costs involved, too, related to credibility and our flight safety record,” he continued. SAS wasn’t the only company affected; about 60 of the 160 turboprops in use by airlines worldwide were grounded.

SAS wants to resolve this matter privately between the two companies. Failing that, SAS has every right and intention of litigating against Bombardier. Can they litigate? For flaws in a maintenance manual? In the European Union (EU), in Canada, in some U.S. states, and increasingly around the world, SAS has tort law fully on their side.

Tort law creates liability issues for poor documentation. In 1998, the EU drew up legislation that recognizes technical documentation as part of a product. This is landmark legislation. Now, the documentation and product are inexorably tied together for liability purposes by this tort law. Corporations are legally responsible for customers not knowing how to use their products and for using them incorrectly.

This legislation raises the bar for the quality of technical documents and related technical materials, and for the technical communicators who create them. But are technical communicators creating these documents, or are companies using other, less qualified, staff?

Many members of the European Union have adopted this tort legislation; Canada has written similar legislation consistent with the intentions of the EU. In the United States, the Unified Commercial Information Transaction Act of 2002 includes language modeled after the Canadian and EU legislation. While only a few states have since adopted this legislation, more are sure to follow, if only to keep up with the evolving tort law and to compete effectively around the world.

Not an isolated incident. “That’s a blank check, isn’t it?” observed Bob Hunter, director of the insurance program at the Consumer Federation of America. Hunter was referring to a Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) directive that allowed insurance companies to over bill the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP) while shortchanging claimants for Hurricane Katrina damage.

In the directive, NFIP’s director David Maurstad wrote: “FEMA will not seek reimbursement from the company when a subsequent review identifies overpayments resulting from the company’s proper use of FEMA depth data and a reasonable method of developing square foot value in concluding claims.” (Italics ours.) Not if, but when. This sentence states that insurance companies do not have to repay over-billed amounts when FEMA discovers them. Changing when to if dramatically alters the sentence’s meaning: if over-billings are discovered, insurance companies must repay them. So much for a simple word.

Cost of doing business? Many companies look at their documentation department as a cost of doing business rather than a source of competitive advantage and a profit center. Technical documentation is often subject to cuts when finances get tight. This leaves the documentation task to others, such as software programmers, product engineers, and their managers—people who are not adequately equipped to create clearly written and usable documents for an oftentimes unsophisticated audience using increasingly complicated products. (Think telephone here: a once simple device is now a feature-laden and complicated communication tool.)

The need for technical communicators becomes essential, and indispensable. Technical communicators deliver unparalleled benefits to a company through their communication expertise, education, experience, and interpersonal skills. Technical communicators understand their audience and create accurate, clear, comprehensive, accessible, honest, correct, concise, and imminently usable documentation in many different forms to address the specific needs of that audience.

With the emerging playing field of increased liability, companies cannot afford—literally—to undervalue their technical documentation and related technical communication.

—Rich Maggiani

“Press on”, said President Calvin Coolidge. “Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.”

Recently, my son Torin and I were returning to Vermont after a week’s stay at Walt Disney World. We arose at 3:00 am on a Saturday to catch Disney’s Transport bus, to arrive two hours ahead of our scheduled 6:25 am flight (Disney’s rules) out of Orlando airport. We arrived at 3:45, in line at Continental’s counter at 3:50 — and waited until 4:30 for it to open!

We got out of line to sleep a bit in an alcove, only to find, 20 minutes later, that the line was now over two bends in the mouse maze. So, back in line again to stand, and wait. When we were third, a Continental agent approached  the first person in the queue. We overheard: “Where are you going?”

“Burlington, Vermont.”

“Connecting…?”

“Hmmm. Let me look.” After a bit of rustling came “Newark”.

“Flight 193?”

Another quick look. “Yes.”

“That flight’s been cancelled,” stated the agent matter-of-factly, as if she was telling the time, then moved on to us.

I turned to Torin. “That’s our flight!” Torin’s eyes bugged out. “What!” He was incredulous. “What the…”

“OMG,” I muttered, looking at him, ours eyes locked, my mind racing, considering the ramifications, drifting, then coming back quickly when I heard the agent impatiently say to us, “I’ll come back,” and continued her walk down the line.

Over the next 45 minutes, our cadre of stranded Flight 193 passengers grew, while others continued to bypass us and check in.

At 5:15, finally, the counter, to get re-booked. The agent, continually clicking on her keyboard, hunting for seats, only to discover flights to Burlington were booked for the rest of the day — and the next — and Monday, and Tuesday. The next available flight with seats: Wednesday, four days away!

“What about surrounding airports?” I asked. “Albany, Lebanon, New Haven, Manchester New Hampshire?”

More clicking. “No. Nothing.”

“New York, Boston?” She shook her head. “Buffalo? Philadelphia? Pittsburgh?” I was getting desperate.

“No. All booked.” A pause. “Oh, wait. Here’s something for Manchester, tomorrow. It’s late in the day though. Would you like me to book it?”

I looked at Torin. His eyes widened. “I wanted to go home today,” he said. I gave him a twisted grimace, then turned back to the agent. “We’ll take it.”

But in that split second, it was gone.

So we booked the Wednesday flight. Then I called my wife, Abbie. At 5:45 am.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when answering. I told her the sordid details. “What about a car? A bus? The train?”

“I was just about to check on a car. I’ll have to see about Internet access for the bus or car.”

So Torin and I went to Budget Rent-a-Car. “We need a car, one way, to Burlington Vermont.” I told the agent.

“Boy, I’ve never heard that one before,” he said. I bet. After some searching, he said, “Well, I can only get you to Boston. $437.58, which includes a $325 drop-off charge.” Wow! I told him I’d think about it, and we left.

Abbie called back. ”I’ve done some checking. A bus leaves today at 12:50 pm, gets into New York tomorrow around noon. An hour layover, twelve hours to Boston, another layover, then to Vermont. Gets in Monday afternoon.” My mind was racing. “That’s over 50 hours! On a bus!”

“There’s also the train,” she said. “Leaves tonight, gets into New York tomorrow. No sleepers left though. The next train to Vermont leaves Monday morning; arrives Monday evening. Only goes to Montpelier though.”

“I’ll have to call you back,” I said. Torin found a wi-fi hot spot. We logged into Expedia, where I originally booked the ticket. Four flights with seats tomorrow: two on United and two US Airways. So we returned to Continental to try to get booked on one of these flights. This time three agents worked on our dilemma.

“The Burlington legs of those flights, we show them fully booked. Expedia is overselling in the hopes of no-shows. Anyway, we can’t book those flights. You have a United booking since you flew down on United. Perhaps they can help.”

On the way across the terminal to United’s counter, I called Expedia and regaled our story. After verifying that Continental’s flight was indeed cancelled (they wouldn’t believe me), the Expedia agent called United (at my insistence) to try to book a United return. She failed. This took almost 20 minutes on hold, all of which we spent waiting in a United line.

Finally, we reached the counter. After some incredulity from the United agent (“Why didn’t Continental take care of you?” “Why did they cancel the flight; the airport’s open!?”), she told us she couldn’t book us direct to Burlington. “Tell me the best surrounding airport.” We did. Ten minutes later, she booked us on a flight, late, that very same day, into Manchester, a three-hour drive from home. It was 8:05 am, over four hours after we arrived.

Sometimes communication takes persistence. Never give up!

–Rich Maggiani

A few weeks ago, I backpacked with my friend Bill. What’s great about going into the wilderness for a few days with Bill (in this case, four days) is that we communicate so well, respect each others needs, and consider them throughout the trip. This kind of deep communication becomes especially pointed living in the woods when your kitchen and bedroom are in the pack on your back.

This trip, our goal was to summit four of the forty-six 4,000-foot peaks in New York’s Adirondack park. (Actually, there are only 43 such peaks. Apparently, past climbers couldn’t measure very well, but history dictates compliance with their inaccurate measurements.) Four days, 32 miles, 12,000 feet of elevation gain, fifty-pound packs, all planned with a guide book last published seven years ago—an eon for the Adirondacks where landscape-altering storms are the norm.

While we had a general idea of the summiting trails, we also knew that routes and conditions would be different—in two cases, markedly different as it turned out—from descriptions written at least seven years ago, and probably eight. We knew this going in, and we knew that we would be trying to get the latest conditions, from whoever we crossed paths with, always an eye-opening and trusting endeavor.

Ultimately, we knew this: our ability to ask clear questions, listen attentively, engage in the dialog, focus on outcomes, and accurately assess information would be crucial to the success of our trip. In other words: simple, clear communication. (You knew that was coming, right? If not, look at Solari’s home page.)

So we did this. Whenever we met someone on the trail who was amenable and willing to talk, we engaged them. In return, we gathered a lot of pertinent information (some conflicting that we reconciled by assessing the source). We discovered three significant facts: one trailhead wasn’t where we thought it was; a rumored trailhead relocation was indeed fact and that its trail had been substantially cleared over the previous years; and that one trail was overgrown although still passable.

In the end, we discovered that the information we gathered was accurate on the ground. We did summit all four mountains. And, as a bonus, garnered a couple of sources for summiting future mountains.

Think of how, in a metaphorical sense, these same events happen to you. Think how simple, clear communication could have helped clear your path and enable you to summit your mountain.

–Rich Maggiani

Poor communication costs business millions of dollars every single day. Most executives and managers understand this, yet they don’t realize how big a part they play in this miscommunication.

Financial statements do not carry a line item for poor communication, although they should since, with a little effort, it can quickly be quantified.

Communication is vital to the success of your organization. To be most effective, communication must circulate and reach all levels, not just the core.

Different forms of poor communication. Here are but a few:

• Long, unproductive, numbing meetings without a clear purpose or agenda, often reaching no conclusions, result in lost productivity as well as the collective time of everyone attending.
• Poor documentation neglects to mention the purpose of the software or hardware and only explains how it works. Users, however, don’t care how it works; they want to know how to use it!
• Uninspired selling skills and anemic sales presentations showing no interest or understanding of a prospect’s needs, result in missed opportunities and lost sales.

• Rambling, cryptic, and incoherent emails that are misunderstood or ignored, result in wasted time. Often (up to 50% of the time) an email’s tenor is incorrectly perceived, simply because body language cannot be analyzed and tone of voice not perceived; this results in hurt feelings, ill will, and inaction.
• Distracted managers who simply do not or cannot truly listen alienate staff and lower morale. Staff members who realize they are not being listened to and simply patronized, themselves stop communicating.
• Staff members from different generations or gender lack a basic understanding of each other, their communication styles, and preferences. Incomprehensible and inappropriate statements are commonplace. Baby boomers (thinking it’s still the ’70s) and today’s generation (who were not even alive then) simply do not share the same communication foundation.

Poor communication squanders time, wastes effort, erodes loyalty, and loses business.

Squandering time. Poor communication simply takes longer to process and understand, if understanding can be attained. Unnecessary questions are asked, discussions are needlessly lengthy, the communication is recreated, only to be foisted again on a wary audience.

Here’s an example of an email received by a colleague: “The company may need the more accurate methodology since it’s the standard approach employed of the more approximate method that may result in an estimate that underestimates and not on-target estimates.” After a lengthy conversation with the sender, my colleague’s client rewrote the email. Final squandered time for one email: six hours.

Wasting effort. My bank’s CEO recently sent every customer a letter explaining the bank’s checking account overdraft policy: five dense paragraphs. The policy was more onerous than the current overdraft protection plan. Many customers didn’t appreciate the change and called to protest, inundating the bank. The customer service representatives explained why the letter was misleading and inaccurate. As a result, the CEO planned to rewrite and resend the letter. The CEO’s effort fell prey to the 30% of business letters that initially fail.

Eroding loyalty. According to an Accenture study, American consumers returned $13.8 billion in electronics in 2007; Europeans returned $11.5. That’s over $25 billion. Between 60%–85% had nothing wrong; that’s between $15.2 and $21.5 billion in perfectly functional equipment returned. Why? Confusing interfaces, features difficult to access, no customer education, weak documentation were overriding factors—all issues that superb communication could solve. $25 billion! That’s a lot of lost loyalty.

Losing business. The presentation was wonderful, beautiful slides, expertly delivered—all about the expertise of the company who was leading the proposal. Unfortunately, the state agency wanted to know how the company would solve the agency’s problem and support their budget. Instead, the agency got egotistical fluff. The agency, rightly, awarded the contract to another firm; the company came in “second”.

How big a cost? Poor communication cost Merck $253 million after losing their Vioxx trial. Why? The jury was befuddled by Merck’s scientific explanations.

Positive results. Thoughtful, effective communication delivers unparalleled benefits to both you and your audience. Effective communication reaps positive results: increased market valuation and stockholder value; greater employee commitment, involvement, retention, and morale; and stronger customer loyalty. All of which saves you—and makes you—money.

How much is poor communication costing you?

–Rich Maggiani