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

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

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

I received a Kindle for Christmas — a gift from my oldest son. He thoughtfully bought me the 3G version, and took the time to explain why this more robust version would be more versatile for me.

It’s a handy gadget, especially when I travel. It’s nice too. I’m slowly getting used to using it. Still, it is a big change from reading a book.

Just like our cell phones, the Kindle (and any other e-reader) has taken a common task and, in some respects, made it much more difficult. To be sure, its features are far more robust than that of a book. Still, there is a learning curve. To begin, I had to sift through a rather extensive user guide just to learn how to use it. There is a basic skill set and an aptitude I had to gain before I could use it for its intended purpose: reading.

I find browsing for books online with brief summaries and small avatars a bit constraining, versus flipping through a book’s pages and easily seeing other books on the same topic at a bookstore. There’s a tactile part that is completely missing. But oh, is it convenient. I don’t have to travel to a bookstore, I can locate more books, no out-of-stocks, and get them immediately. (No café for coffee drinks though. Oh well.)

And as I add books, the Kindle doesn’t get any bigger, unlike a growing pile of books. Makes me wonder what the future home library will look like. What can get bigger, and quickly too, is your credit card bill. It is so easy (too easy?) to purchase a new book. There’s a good and bad to that, obviously. What can also get bigger is the size of the text. Can’t read the small text? Then just set it larger —no need for those large print editions.

On the other hand, a book, I can just pick up and read. A Kindle, I can also just pick up and read—so long as I’ve remembered to charge the battery, or be tethered to an outlet providing, of course, that I’ve remembered the charging plug. But I do like the author drawings when I put the Kindle to sleep.

And I like its size. I bought an inexpensive cover for it with a relatively unobtrusive magnetic latch. Inside are a couple of pockets, so it’s certainly handy. Fits snugly inside my outer jacket pocket: nice portability, much easier than carrying some tome. I miss the graphics of a book cover though. A Kindle tends to render a book’s contents amorphous.

Am I being a bit of a curmudgeon? Of course. It’s a huge change from what I am used to. I like the tactile sense of a cradling a book in my hands, the turning of its pages, the ability to review the entire book by flipping through its pages, to get an immediate sense of how much I’ve already read and how much is left. And for me, a writer, holding a book gives me a sense of its sweat equity, a reverence for that effort. I don’t really get that feeling with my Kindle, even though logically the effort still lies in there somewhere.

So I won’t be giving up my books any time soon. I’ve developed a dividing line of sorts: fiction on my Kindle and nonfiction (which I like to mark up with notes and highlights) in print. Nonetheless, there is a place in my life for my Kindle, and I happily use it to read. And it feels especially good to recall that I have this e-reader because of my thoughtful son.

And it’s that type of act, my friends, that moves us toward humanity in this particular communication.

—Rich Maggiani

“The nut” arrived in the mail, as is, without a box, for a deep visual impact. The postal carrier was so impressed, she had to stop in and hand it to me personally. Why? Because “the nut” is a coconut!—a three-dimensional fruit sent to gain my attention. And that it did.

Hand-written quotes from numerous famous and influential people cover “the nut”. Karl Schweitzer, president and founder of MobiRez, a client, colleague, and friend, sent me “the nut” to honor our relationship and to make an impression. For him, it was the perfect marketing device.

Consider, for a moment, the effectiveness of your marketing if you sent your version of “the nut” to tightly targeted prospects. It most definitely would be remembered; people would stop to admire and inspect it. It could even become the buzz of the office. On thing is for sure—it would make an impact.

Imagine sending these three-dimensional mailings to your current clients, to thank them. Karl wanted to further solidify what was an already sound relationship. That he accomplished.

Three-dimensional marketing. At a marketing conference a few years ago, one pundit told us of the value of three-dimensional marketing. “We’re partial to sending blocks of wood,” he said. I asked my Art Director what she thought of that idea. She said simply, “out of context”. She continued. “A block of wood has nothing to do with what we do, there is no connection, no context. What would be more effective is a 3-D mailer with a direct connection to who we are and what our prospects gain from collaborating with us.”

And so this is the beauty of Karl sending “the nut”. His office is in Honolulu, on the island of O‘ahu, in Hawai‘i. Karl’s mailing succeeds on a number of fronts. First, the islands are teeming with coconuts, so there is a direct connection to Hawai‘i. Second, Karl is in the business of attracting tourists to visit Hawai‘i, again and again—“the nut” gives recipients tangible evidence of the islands. Third, Karl’s very existence exemplifies the motivational and inspirations messages of such pithy quotes. With “the nut” being covered with some of these quotes, it not only provides a connection to him, but more importantly, gives something of value and something to consider to the recipient. There is a personal connection; and it is common knowledge that such a connection powerfully motivates action.

More evidence of success. Earlier this year, I judged an international marketing and design competition. One entry that quickly caught the judges’ attention: a three-dimensional mailer from a computer peripheral manufacturer touting the benefits of their newest device. The entry was pyramid-shaped, its top cut off, on a square foundation.

Unfolding the sides one by one revealed a simple key—a powerful image, metaphorically and physically. The key tied directly into the marketing message and to the printer’s name. The key enabled prospects to receive a free demonstration, on their own networks, to try first-hand the benefits of this new enterprise-wide printer.

I’m all for innovative design. In marketing, however, an innovative design that fails to market is worthless. The marketers who submitted the piece stated their response was over three times higher than any previous marketing effort. Three times! Certainly well worth the extra cost in design, construction, and mailing.

In today’s world of multiple messages from multiple streams, getting through to a prospect is indeed a daunting task. And while the world continues to focus on electronic communication—and rightly so—perhaps some consideration can be given to a stand-out marketing device, one that actually puts something tangible into the hands of your prospect. What a welcome change that can be.

The quotes on “the nut”.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning.” –Albert Einstein

“The ability to convert ideas to things is the secret to success.” –Henry Ward Beecher

“Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.” –Albert Einstein

“The way to succeed is to double your error rate.” –Thomas Watson

“If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.” –William Arthur Ward

“I owe my success to the fact that I did not allow my schooling to interfere with my education.” –Mark Twain

“The most important key to success is to know how to get along with others.” –Theodore Roosevelt

“In the end it is not the years in your life that count. It is the life in your years.” –Abraham Lincoln

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest your reap, but by the seeds you plant.” –Robert Louis Stevenson

“If you realize how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought.” –Peace Pilgrim

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think, we become.” –Buddha

[Note: This post first appeared as one of my position papers: The Nut as a Marketing Tool]

—Rich Maggiani

Last night, just before dark, they arrived at my house in Essex, Vermont. Raymond and Leah. They delivered two cords of fire wood from their business property in Glover, a distance over back roads of about 70 miles. Now Glover truly qualifies as being in the middle of nowhere, however, I live on a dirt road that isn’t all that easy to find either.

When Leah and I made the arrangements for the firewood, I asked if she needed directions. After all, they had never been here before. But she demurred. “We have GPS,” she said. “Raymond relies on it, so I’m sure we won’t have any difficulties.”

And so, through the help of their GPS device, they arrived. Leah got out of the truck first, introduced herself, and shook my hand. She had a kind face, a quiet confidence about her, and was clearly in charge of the financial aspects of the business—she had a standard invoice form in her hand with the details of our transaction hand printed clearly. Raymond, a tall, slightly gangling man, ebullient by nature with a winning smile, came around the side of the truck and held out his hand. “This is Raymond,” Leah said. We shook hands. Firmly.

“So Raymond,” I asked, “Did you have any trouble finding my house?”

“Oh no,” he said with that Vermont drawl. “My GPS gets me anywhere.” He pulled the device out of his pocket and began showing me how he used it for directions from Glover to my house. The device was well labeled, with a clean interface and clear maps that directed him, without misadventure. Raymond was very proud of this GPS, and his ability to use it.

I thought, “Raymond. Thank a technical communicator.”

For it was a professional technical communicator who designed the interface, the buttons, the labels; who wrote the on-screen wording, the tutorial; who made the device easy to use and valuable to Raymond, and to Leah, while they deliver firewood all over the state of Vermont. And if was a technical communicator who designed and wrote the words on the standard invoice form used for the firewood purchase.

So, during your day, how often do you rely on the services of professional technical communicators? Many, many times. Think for a moment about your day. From the rudimentary (the dials and labeling on your toaster), to the simple (laundering instructions on your business clothes), to the sublime (the dashboard of your car), to the routine (the signage and information boards on your drive and in the subway and airport), to the commonplace (every web site, photo site, and video site you browse), to the complex (the tutorials, instructions, guides, and online help for the hardware and related software you use daily), to the complicated (the buttons and instructions on a digital SLR camera), to the useful (a GPS device). The list is virtually endless.

Take a look around you right now. You encounter many instances of technical communication, constantly, throughout your day. After all, if it isn’t fiction, then it’s nonfiction; in other words, it’s technical communication.

When you find any of these situations difficult or can’t figure out how to use something, realize that it isn’t you. More than likely, the people in charge of these kinds of things didn’t exhibit the foresight to engage professionals. And the results, to be polite, are less than stellar.

On the other hand, when you are able to successfully and easily navigate all of these items and situations, without misadventure, thank professional technical communicators. You can’t live without them.

–Rich Maggiani

Some events make it simple to realize that you have achieved a positive gain on time and money. In these cases, the gain has been immediate, clearly recognized, and sometimes even documented for you. Go to a supermarket, buy something on sale, and there is your money savings recorded for you on your receipt. Easy. Take a shortcut on a journey; a simple glance at your watch tells you how much time you have saved. Easy. Post that unused item in the want ads; someone gives you cash for it. Easy.

Comprehending your time and money gain on communication, however, is not so obvious. This is true for a number of reasons. The actual loss of time and money might never have been documented or considered, so there is no basis for evaluation. The time from initiation to implementation for a communication project can be months, sometimes years, and unless time and money are carefully tracked, there can be an enormous disconnection between the before and after.

I like to think about measuring your time and money gain in communication as a journey. Whenever you take a trip—whether it’s a simple jaunt to the supermarket or an extended vacation—you always know where you are starting from and where you are going. It’s the same way with communication: you must know where you are starting from and where you are going.

Before beginning any communication initiative, first take the time to pound a stick into the ground. Where are you now? Identify and quantify that as clearly as possible. Then, identify where you want to go, your destination, your objectives. Use the markers from your starting point. These objectives should also contain your time and money savings, and your making money quantities. In other words, your return on investment.

Now, go on your journey; launch your communication initiative: your marketing campaign, your employee survey, your newly updated web site, your supporting campaign for a new product or service launch. Whatever it is. Then, periodically, throughout the campaign, assess where you are. You can also use these assessments to consider changes in direction that might help you better get you where you want to go. When you finally reach your destination , you’ll know it.

And you’ll know how much time you have saved, how much money you have saved, and, ultimately, how much money you have made. That’s the value of simple, clear communication: it makes you money.

–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