statue of grief

A death in the family this week makes me wonder, again, what to say to those who are sick with grief when we are ourselves grieving.

Words fail us. Either we are struck mute, silenced by our own heartache, or we hesitate to speak, afraid of sounding banal and insensitive.

But we have to say something, because silence can be cruel.

There is not one right way to grieve, nor one right way to comfort those in grief. So we do the best we can. We gather with those who grieve and let them know — with kind words softly spoken and with hugs and arms on shoulders and also with silence and a willingness to listen — that we love them. We are with them and we love them.

I used to think that providing a solution to people’s problem was enough to convince them to adopt and implement it.

But I’ve come to realize that the promise or even the assurance that an idea (a proposal, service, product, procedure, etc.) will solve people’s problem isn’t enough to win them over.

You have to make them hurt.

Here’s why:

Even when people accept the fact that they have a problem, they underestimate how much trouble, bother, harm, loss, risk, hidden cost, and futile effort the problem entails. Then they compare the cost of living with the problem (which they underestimate) to the cost of implementing your solution (which they may accurately appraise or, more likely, overestimate). And they decide that your solution costs more than their problem, so they reject it.

It’s your job (my job, too) to make people realize the true cost of the problem before proposing the solution.

“Make them hurt” doesn’t mean “Cause them pain.” It means, make them understand – know and feel – the full scope and negative impact of the problem.

For example, people in sales or in business development often tell me, “Our technical people can’t communicate what they know in a way that the rest of us can understand.” Then they ask if I can solve their problem and, if so, how much it will cost.

In the past, I described my process (which I’m really, really proud of) and gave references and testimonials and case studies. Sometimes they’d buy my solution. Often they wouldn’t.

Now I go about it differently. I probe for the pain.

I ask, “What does the inability of technical experts to communicate what they know cost the company?” With a little prompting, they tell me about lost sales, missed opportunities, frustrated customers, duplicated efforts, unproductive meetings, project delays, and cost overruns. I ask them to figure out how much those issues cost. When they know the real cost of the problem, I’m willing to talk about my solution and how much it will cost.

Make them hurt. Let them know exactly what their problem costs in time, effort, money, and risk. Then, and only then, propose your solution.

Solivng Problems too SoonPaul Tillich, an existentialist philosopher, theologian, and teacher said:

The fatal pedagogical error is to throw answers, like stones, at the heads of those who have not yet asked the questions.

Most presentations use some variation of a problem/solution format, which is a solid way to organize our material: “Here’s the problem. Here’s how my idea solves that problem.”

But…

…we too often assume that the people we’re talking to are aware of the problem in the first place. Or that they understand its scope. Or that they appreciate its repercussions. So we skip right over the problem in order to talk about our solution. To paraphrase Tillich, we throw solutions, like stones, at the heads of those who have not yet grasped the problem.

One of my rules, when making a problem/solution presentation, is make them hurt.

Begin your presentation by describing the problem and assessing its scope and impact. Show how much damage — in wasted time, effort, money, morale — is caused by the problem. When people see the issue for what it is — a problem that causes them pain — then, and only then, should you start talking about the solution.

I came upon notes of a study I read a few years back, which I found interesting / disturbing. Unfortunately, because I didn’t write down the source of the study, I can’t attest to its accuracy.

According to the study–

93% of audiences think a male speaker is credible until he says or does something to lose their confidence.

83% of audiences question a female speaker’s credibility until she says or does something to earn their confidence.

Do you think that is accurate? Do you think that male speakers are given an audience’s confidence, while women have to earn it? What is your experience?

If you know where I originally read that study, please let me know. Or if you know of any similar study, I’d love to learn of it.

If you’re a self-employed coach, consultant, trainer, or speaker (I, myself, am all four), you know the frustrations of making a bid on a job. (By “job,” I mean any business opportunity that pays: a coaching relationship, a workshop, a keynote address, a consulting arrangement.)

Making a bid may be as simple as telling an interested party what you’ll do and how much you’ll charge for doing it. (It’s not that simple, of course, and ideally a lot of give and take went into it beforehand.) Or making a bid may entail submitting a lengthy and detailed written proposal after you’ve already engaged in exploratory conversations, email exchanges, and interviews.

So submitting a bid may take very little effort and time, or it may be an energy-intensive and time-consuming process. Either way, you owe it to yourself first to decide whether it even makes sense — business sense — to try. Is it worth your time and effort to prepare and submit a proposal?

As a consultant and coach, I help companies in construction, government contracting, project management, engineering and the like make proposals on large (very, very, very large) contracts. Creating those proposals is a costly endeavor that can consume several months of several people’s time. Before those companies undertake such a large effort, knowing that so much is at stake, they typically conduct a bid/no bid decision process or assessment. (Successful companies always do so.) The process can itself be quite elaborate, involving assessment tools and meetings. (See Inside the Critical Bid/No Bid Decision as an example.)

I’m not suggesting that those of us who are self-employed use the same approach as big companies when it comes to deciding whether to bid on a job. But I do recommend using a stripped-down, simplified version. Doing so will save you a lot of grief.

The Three Questions to Ask When Deciding to Bid or Not to Bid on a Job

1. How much do you want the job?

When you’re just starting out or when you’ve hit hard times — and who hasn’t hit hard times in the past three or four years? — you get desperate. If someone dangles an opportunity in front of you, you’ll leap at it even if, say, you know they’re just trolling for the lowest bid. But desperation isn’t a pretty thing, and it almost always leads nowhere.

So whether you’re lean and hungry or plump with opportunities, calculate in the coolest, most objective way you can how much you really want the job. How will it benefit you? Cash is, of course, a worthy benefit, but it’s not the only one. So ask yourself:

  • How much money is at play?
  • Will the job lead to follow-on work within the organization or will it open up doors with other companies?
  • Will it promote your visibility and credibility?
  • Will it challenge you and help you develop new skills?
  • Will it contribute to your pride of accomplishment and satisfaction?
  • Will it provide a showcase for your talents?

Rate how much you want the job on a 1 (low) to 10 (high) scale.

2. What are your chances of winning the proposal?

Again, if you’re desperate, you’ll tend to skip this question. You’ll reason that you only win jobs you bid on, so you may as well go ahead and submit a proposal. What have you got to lose? Well, a lot actually. Pursuing any and all opportunities, even ones that you have no chance of winning, wastes your time and energy, it puts a dent in your self-respect, and it keeps you from going after jobs that you can actually win.

Winning a proposal depends on three issues:

  1. Your Relationship with the Prospect
    The more you know the prospect and the more they know you, the better your chances. The briefer and the shallower the connection, the worse your chances.
  2. Your Capabilities
    Do you have the knowledge, experience, skills, resources, processes, tools, etc. to do the job and to do it well?
  3. The Price
    Do you have any idea of how to price your offer? Do you know what your competitors will propose? Are you in the same ball park? The lowest price doesn’t always win the contract (sometimes it hurts), but most people these days are very, very concerned about price.

Again, rate your chances on a 1 (low) to 10 (high) scale.

3. How much bother is involved?

In my experience, the larger the organization, the more the hassle. With some corporations — I’ve worked with several of them — you can spend more time and energy complying with their administrative requirements than you will actually doing the job. I kid you not. It’s not a deal breaker, but it’s something you should take into consideration.

Rate the hassle factor on a scale of 1 to 3.

I haven’t worked it out precisely, but I think you could make a bid/no bid assessment based on a formula. Add your ranking of the first two issues (how much you want the job and your chances of winning it). The highest score you can get at this point is 20. Divide that number by the hassle factor. The maximum possible score, for those who don’t have their spread sheets open, is 20. A high score means “bid.” An abysmally low score means “no bid.”

I know it’s not that easy. But please consider doing some form of bid-no-bid assessment before making your next proposal. And good luck.

What do you think? Have I overlooked something?

balance scaleA value proposition is typically defined as a statement that identifies the advantages or benefits a customer will receive by purchasing a particular product or service.

I think there’s more to a value proposition than that. And I think that a value proposition applies, or can apply, to anything that you’re “selling,” not just products or services. So, for example, when you want people to buy into an idea or proposal, creating and articulating a value proposition will help you sell it.

Three Premises about Value Propositions

  1. Value is in the eye of the beholder.
    You may know that your product, service, or idea is, without doubt or question, the best thing going. You have complete and total confidence that it will give people more of what they want or less of what they don’t want at the best possible price. But if they don’t understand or believe it, they won’t buy it. Demonstrating value is a whole different thing from providing value.
  2. Value is relative.
    People determine the value of a product, service, or idea by comparing it to something else: to what they already have or are doing (the status quo) or to what a competitor offers. You can’t win people over simply by showing them the value of what you provide. You have to convince them that they will get greater value from what you offer than from the alternatives.
  3. Value requires validation.
    Your value proposition — any value proposition — is an assertion or a claim. It is not a self-evident truth. You have to give people reason to believe or to trust in your proposition. And that reason to believe, again, has to be in the eye of the beholder.

The best way of depicting a value proposition that I’ve seen comes from an article I read years ago (and can’t locate now) in the Harvard Business Journal. It looks like this:

(B1 – C1) > (B2 - C2)

B1 = Benefits or advantages you (your product, service, or idea) provide
C1 = Costs involved (including time, effort and risk) in purchasing, adopting, or implementing what you offer

B2 = Benefits or advantages the next best alternative provides
C2 = Costs involved (including time, effort and risk) in purchasing, adopting, or implementing what the next best alternative offers

A value proposition lets people determine for themselves the balance of benefits and costs of your product, service, or idea in comparison to the next best alternative (which may be the status quo).

What do you think?

Photo courtesy of winnifredxoxo at flickr.com

Relationships are importantLet’s say you have an idea — a proposal, initiative, or recommendation — that you want people to adopt, approve, or implement.

If you’re an external consultant, trainer, coach or self-employed professional, you always have to gain buy-in for your ideas. You have to win the initial contract. And then because you can’t simply tell people what to do and expect them to do it, you have to gain their buy-in over and over again.

The same is true when you work within an organization. You have to win people’s approval and support time and time again.

You’ll want to be sure of a few things before you even begin the process of gaining people’s buy-in. You’ll want to know that your idea (your proposal)

  • Is sound and supported by the evidence
  • Is practical (it can be implemented) and beneficial (it will solve a problem or achieve a goal)
  • Has a good chance of gaining support

That last issue — the odds of your proposal being approved — is as important to know as it is difficult to determine.

Why propose an idea if it’s only going to be shot down? Making a proposal — a clear, compelling one — involves a significant investment of time and effort and, sometimes, of political capital. It’s simply a matter of practicality to ask yourself if it’s worth the investment.

So how do you determine the odds of your idea getting the go-ahead? Of your proposal being accepted? Of your initiative being implemented?

There are many factors involved, but I believe that one of the most important and most frequently overlooked factors is the relationship you have with the people whose support you’re seeking.

The better the relationship, the better your chances.

When you have a good relationship with the people or the organization to whom you’re pitching your idea:

  • You know their issues, problems, hot buttons. You know what they want and don’t want and why. You speak their language. You know whether and how much they’re invested in the issue. You know the other issues and ideas that are competing for their attention. You know the office politics that are involved.
  • They know you and your reputation. They know what you’re capable of doing. They trust you. They have some emotional ties to you. They may feel that they owe you something. They may be willing to participate in shaping your proposal to better suit their needs.

Sometimes you have almost no relationship. Then, in my opinion (and experience), your odds of winning their buy-in are low. Very low.

You can, of course, win people’s support even without any sort of relationship, but it’s much, much harder. So my suggestion is that you pay a lot of attention to building relationships.

What do you think? Are there situations where relationships aren’t important? How do you build relationships, especially when you’re an outsider proposing ideas to an organization?

I don’t know how anyone can give a speech without telling a story.

Stories “work” on so many levels. They engage people’s imaginations and emotions. Stories sidestep people’s nitpicking, faultfinding, naysaying critical minds, and take them to a place where they can grapple with questions of meaning, significance, and truth. Stories are evocative and memorable. And much, much more.

And the best kind of story – for most speakers, most speeches – is a personal story: a story about something that happened to the speaker and that changed the speaker in some way.

There’s a dilemma here. On the one hand, because stories – and personal stories, in particular — have so much power, you can strengthen just about any speech by telling a story (or two). And on the other hand, precisely because personal stories are so powerful, you have to be careful.

Stories are like fire. They can cast light and create warmth. Or they can singe and incinerate.

My first rule for telling a personal story in a speech is “Don’t make yourself the hero.”

(My first rule is really “Tell a personal story when you give a speech.”)

You are a character in the story. You are involved in some way, even if only as a witness. And you are the person who changes as a result of what happens. You have a change of heart or an epiphany or a catharsis. But you are not cause of that change. You are not the font of wisdom, the embodiment of virtue, the ideal that others should admire and emulate. You are not the hero.

The role of hero is played by someone else. That other person – your grandmother or younger brother, your sixth-grade teacher, a stranger at the airport, the bag lady who sits in the last pew of your church – is the hero. He or she does or says something in your presence that causes you to change.

The point of telling a personal story is not to call attention to yourself, but to lead your listeners through your unique experience to a shared truth.

In rare cases, you may seem to be the hero of the story. Through your own grit and determination, your intelligence and insight, your talent and native ability, you may be the one who overcame all odds and succeeded where lesser mortals failed. You may be the person who swam the English Channel after losing both arms and legs to a freak accident. Or grew up in poverty and yet made more money than Donald Trump. Or who won a MacArthur genius award in spite of being written off by every teacher you ever met.

Even in those cases – especially in those cases — you have to be wary about making yourself the hero of the story.

When you were learning to swim, to make money, or to do whatever it is that won you the MacArthur award, was there no one who helped you along the way? Was no one a role model, a mentor, a faithful companion, a challenging coach? No one? Did you really do it all on your own? Really?

If your story is all about youyour accomplishments, your strength of character, your brilliance – it’s not a story. Not really. It’s an extended advertisement, an exercise in self-promotion, an ego trip.

The moral of your story can never be “Look how great I am,” even if you tack on “and you can be great too.”

What do you think? Agree? Disagree?

The purpose of a business presentation — any type of business presentation — is to win buy-in for an idea. You don’t simply present information for its own sake. You want people to do something: to give you their feedback; to implement your proposal or to allow you to implement it; to give you the money, time, or personnel to continue your project; to hire you or to buy your product or service; to contribute their own efforts or expertise.

So, in effect, every business presentation is also a sales presentation. There may not be an exchange of money for goods or services, but there is still an exchange: you give something and they give something in return.

5 Tips for Winning Buy-In for an Idea

  1. Be a credible advocate.
    Your idea will not and cannot speak for itself. It needs you to present and represent it. If you’re not willing to back your idea up with your time and effort and, more importantly, with your reputation, it stands no chance of being adopted or implemented. It is only as credible as you are, and conversely you are only as credible as your idea is. Be fair and honest and aboveboard, but don’t pretend or try to be impartial or objective.
  2. Build alliances.
    The best ideas don’t always win on their merit. (You know that already, don’t you?) Sometimes, good ideas get shot down and inferior ideas get the thumbs up because of office politics, turf warfare, or interpersonal grudges. So be savvy. Before you even schedule a presentation figure out whose support you need and how best to secure it. And develop a strategy for winning over or, at least, disarming those who might oppose your proposal.
  3. See it from their perspective.
    Of course, you have a personal stake in your presentation. (If you don’t want something from the people you’re presenting to, why are wasting your time and theirs?) But the only way you will get what you want from them is by showing them how they will get what they want. So show them how your idea will help them solve a problem or achieve a goal that matters to them. This presumes, of course, that you know them well enough to understand their agendas.
  4. Follow up.
    Selling an idea doesn’t begin and end with a presentation. You do much of your work beforehand: doing your research, building alliances, creating and rehearsing your presentation. And you do a lot of work afterward: strengthening commitments, answering objections, and (sometimes) gaining final approval.
  5. Learn.
    Whether you win or lose, you owe it to yourself (and your team if you worked with one) to learn from your effort by performing an after-action review. Were there any surprises? What worked well? Why? What didn’t work? Why not? What would you do differently next time?

Selling an idea isn’t the same thing as selling a product of service, although it’s similar. It’s really about helping people understand what you’re proposing and how it will benefit them or their organization. In some ways it’s easy. It doesn’t involve twisting arms or selling your soul. But in some ways it’s hard. It does require you to figure out what you want people to do and why they would want to do it.

There are, of course, rules for giving a speech. Search Google (“rules for giving a speech’) and you’ll come up with almost 80,000,000 pages and God-only-know-how-many “rules.”

And many/most of those rules are helpful. I’ve been known, myself, to list any number of them. (I’m particularly fond of the list I present at “How to Give a Speech.”)

For example, if you give a speech without preparing for it, I think you deserve to be shot or, at least, to be hounded off the stage. You should have a clear goal, of course. And you should pay special attention to your opening, closing, and transitions. I could go on and on. (I do go on and on at “How to Prepare a Presentation.”)

But here’s the thing. Rules are, at best, guidelines or principles, and accomplished speakers know when and why and how to disregard, ignore, or bend them.

(You need, mind you, first to know the rules and why they matter before you decide to break them. Otherwise you’re just being sloppy or lazy.)

So don’t think of rules as “do this” or “don’t do that.” Think of them as possibilities that lead — or tend to lead — to outcomes. And know that the outcomes, the results, are what matter.

The goal is for you to communicate what you know to be true and worthy in a way that respects and engages your audience and moves them (their hearts and minds, feet and hands) in the direction you want them to go. Rules are there to help you accomplish your goal, but slavish attention to rules isn’t a virtue.