To an audience, there are few things more powerful than a presenter who offers a true apology. Showing that level of humanity, sincerity, and vulnerability is difficult to do and proves endearing on many levels. So let’s talk about what qualifies as a sincere-sounding apology.

If you include “I’m sorry” in a sentence, there is no guarantee that it will be interpreted as an apology, and in fact, the exact opposite effect is in play. Take these examples:

“I’m sorry that you feel this way…”

“I’m sorry that you took offense…”

“If my advice upsets you, well, I’m sorry…”

These are unfortunate word choices that could backfire. In the first case, you are not taking responsibility for making the person feel that way; you’re only expressing dismay that he or she does. In the second example, you are allowing for the suggestion that the person is wrong to have taken offense, and the third example sounds downright defensive. All three of these statements could make a situation worse, not better.

Being sorry is really a mediocre commodity. It could be thrown into dozens of phrases, in which it loses all resemblance to contrition. One of my standard lines when discussing people’s expectation of PowerPoint is: “Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.” This phrase does not get me into trouble because nobody interprets it as an actual apology. The “well sorrrrree” remark is universally interpreted as sarcasm. And that’s precisely the point: being “sorry” is really not worth much.

It is far more difficult to misuse the words “I apologize” or “forgive me” and therefore they carry more weight.

“I apologize for making you feel that way.”

“I apologize for any offense taken.”

“Please forgive me for that upsetting advice.”

What a difference! These sentences acknowledge accountability — they show you know that your actions or words made something bad happen. They deal with real pain and real awareness. They are more genuine and more impactful.

To strengthen my argument here, I look to a portion of my audience for whom this advice is implausible. I have clients who work for city governments, planning commissions, public utilities, and in political arenas. For many of them, the public apology could be politicized and used against them. This is why you often hear the watered-down phrase of “regret.”

“We regret the actions that caused the local grocery to close down.”

“We regret that 50 people lost their jobs.”

If you regret something, it could mean little more than that you wish it hadn’t happened (definition: to feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over). Don’t use language like that unless you are blatantly dancing around an apology. The fact that issuing an apology could get politicians into trouble is exactly why I want you to use it when warranted. It is real, it is raw, it is powerful.

The next time you have to offer up a mea culpa, don’t just be sorry. Apologize!

As a professional observer of the craft, I admit to feeling a bit cheated. But not because I will never be able to witness him in action again; I feel cheated because I will not be able to watch him realize his potential. Indeed, I believe Steve Jobs was only half as good as he could have been and I believe he was about to find that other half.

Why was Jobs such a great speaker? It’s a bit easier to answer that if you start with the end result: he compelled audiences to feel the weight of his message. He made people around him feel better about themselves, and he inspired others to look beyond their own perspective. He did all this with an impossible-to-imagine ease of accomplishment that defies explanation. This made him fascinating beyond proportion.

What I find equally fascinating about the man is the qualities of great public speaking that he did not exhibit. If you were to add up all of the reasons why he was effective, compile lists of his qualities, there would be one that is conspicuously absent:

Himself.

He gave very little of himself. As wonderful as they were, his product announcements and state-of-the-technology addresses were consistently devoid of personal glimpses. It is clear that he worked very hard at them, that he practiced diligently, that he mastered the craft, and that he dedicated untold effort to this mastery. But you would not come away from them with any heightened sense of knowing better the man. He almost never made his speeches personal; he almost never let you in.

Those who knew or studied Jobs would attest to his being intensely private. Most of us learned more about his personal life in the five days since his passing than in the previous three decades. His having been an orphan, his having fathered a child prior to his marriage to Laurene Powell, his having dated Joan Baez. While these personal factoids were not closely guarded, neither were they well known. With few exceptions, Steve himself offered none of them. I always wondered how amazing it would have been if he had.

I chalked it up to the crafted facade of the CEO of arguably the most enigmatic corporation in the world. I really wanted to believe that it was calculated, that the Jobs mystique would make product launches, and the products themselves, all the more tantalizing. And as a result, a part of me actually looked forward to his resignation. As is so often the case, once people are out of the game, they tend to let a bit more of their hair down. They open up more, they share more, they are more honest with and about themselves. I was so looking forward to Jobs’ first public appearance post-resignation. I had it in mind that it would be a true coming out, that he would make it more about himself.

Were that to have happened, I believe his speeches would have become even more powerful. Is that even possible? That’s the scary thing — I think Steve Jobs could have been twice as effective as he was. Imagine all of the personal stories he could have shared about his time with Apple, about those heady early days, about creating all of that insane greatness. All of the things that he never allowed in his product demos and MacWorld keynotes.

It is the exception that proves the rule: watch this under-the-radar speech he gave for 2005 Commencement from Stanford University. It is more formal than his keynotes, as he stands behind a podium and reads from a script. But focus on the substance — listen to how he weaves his personal stories into his message. And imagine if he had done that at MacWorld all those years.

It’s almost scary to imagine how impactful his speeches could have been. And I feel cheated that we will never know.

YIN: Julie Terberg returns for her incredible makeover sessions, creating something wonderful from something…less than wonderful.
YANG: Sandra Johnson shows how to create complex shapes in PowerPoint, creating something from nothing.

YIN: Connie Malamed returns to discuss the significance and impact of visual communication.
YANG: Nick Morgan makes his debut to expose the hidden communication, the so-called “second conversation.”

YIN: Wayne Michael wants to talk to you about freshman orientation.
YANG: Nigel Holmes wants to talk to you about hot dogs and helium balloons.

YIN: Olivia Mitchell flies in from New Zealand to show you how to create a presentation in one hour.
YANG: Ric Bretschneider wants to show you how to give a presentation in six minutes and 40 seconds.

YIN: Ric will also go until nearly midnight in his traditional Guru session Monday night.
YANG: Garr Reynolds will start his keynote address right about then, from his home in Osaka Japan.

YIN: Troy Chollar will show you how to design for wide screens and large impacts.
YANG: Dave Paradi will show you how to reduce your environmental footprint.

YIN: You’ll learn amazing amounts all day long.
YANG: We’ll go out for amazing evenings in downtown Austin, including a fully-hosted private reception on the ultra-happening Sixth Street Tuesday night.

All of the components that have made our conference famous will be in place: The ever-accommodating Help Center, for free, drop-in technical support; the flexible scheduling that allows you to pick and choose seminars as you go; the delicious meals; and perhaps above all, the friendly and intimate atmosphere that we create for the presentation community, facilitating true relationship-building and bonding — unmatched at any other business conference you will attend.

We have about 30 seats left and we would enjoy nothing more than to see you reserve one of them.

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You might think that an opening keynote address for a presentation conference would discuss technology, or PowerPoint, or slide design, or how to speak more effectively.

You wouldn’t normally expect it to focus on how to win an eating contest.

Patrons of the Presentation Summit have come to expect the unexpected, and after his 2010 debut, Nigel Holmes has become famous for providing it. Last year, the former art director for Time magazine squeezed out an entire tube of toothpaste along the stage and later dressed up in a caveman suit.

This year, it will be eating hot dogs. And studying shadows. And, allegedly, helium, and the inhaling thereof.

Last year’s keynote might prove a tough act to follow and Holmes is quick to note that integrating physical performance into a presentation can’t be just about shock and awe. “When thinking about ‘performance,’ never do it just for theatrical effect,” he says. “There must always be a point. When dealing with statistics, the possibilities are endless. It’s a great way to depart from yet another bar chart.” Indeed, last year’s toothpaste caper was in lieu of a conventional chart to show personal hygiene statistics.

“While this kind of presentation is not for everyone, you’d be surprised at what you can pull off, if you relax and try. Presenters are too often tethered to the podium, but it really pays for the audience to become part of your presentation. They will remember being part of it for a long time.”

And the risks of eating hot dogs, sucking in helium, or donning a caveman suit? Holmes is more concerned about being gratuitous than in having something go wrong on stage. “Do not worry if things don’t go according to plan. Mistakes are a perfect introduction to talk about why it went wrong, so I see mistakes as opportunities. It also makes people understand that you are just another human, like them. So to fail slightly and then recover is good, in a funny way.”

Mistakes and all, the Presentation Summit runs September 18-21 in Austin TX. You can read more about Nigel Holmes’ keynote address, and see the entire schedule, at http://www.PresentationSummit.com/schedule. Seating at the conference is limited to 200 patrons.

We attended spring training.

To get an opportunity to meet members of her beloved SF Giants, Jamie was beyond thrilled, and I was thrilled for her. I was also fascinated to observe this parallel universe to our own, where the schedules, demands, and whims of overtalented young men take precedence over just about everything else.

First, some background. As winners of the 2010 World Series, the Giants were the talk of the town and the objects of extraordinary attention. We just never could have imagined how extraordinary. The photo below was taken before 7:00a, over four hours before the team was to take the field for workouts and drills, the week before exhibition games were to begin. The doors to the right lead into the clubhouse and these throngs of people are waiting and hoping that players arriving at the facility will stop and sign autographs.

So they’re all fans, right? Wrong. A healthy majority of this group is made up of grown men (and some women) actively seeking to create marketable memorabilia. A $10 baseball will sell for $25 if Aubrey Huff signs it; a $15 photo will fetch $35 after Cody Ross adds his name to it; and a $50 Tim Lincecum jersey will be worth over $100 if the man himself takes felt pen to polyester. Jamie is in the middle of that pack somewhere, but she is dwarfed and overwhelmed by a sea of businessmen who care only that the Giants are world champions. Next year, in the likely event that the team does not repeat as champions, most of these peddlers will be elsewhere.

This is not a story of cynicism, although admittedly it is easy to succumb to the feeling. Didn’t these players know that most of these autograph seekers cared only about the profit in it? The answer would be yes, if they had the luxury of being able to discern. But most of them just needed to try to get through the process and could focus only on signing, signing, and signing some more. They put their heads down and signed anything placed before them. It was largely a depersonalizing experience for them, made that way by the crowd of hawkers who depersonalized the ballplayers by caring only about the value of their signatures.

There were exceptions. Andres Torres, described by all who know him as one of baseball’s nicest guys, saw Jamie as the obvious fan she was, decked out in black and orange, and made sure to sign her shirt. And when he got to her, he was happy to stop and pose for a photo. Note that in said photo (below), all of the people around Jamie are men with balls, bats, jerseys, and binders full of carefully-cross-referenced baseball cards.

However, cynicism did not rule the weekend — exuberance and exhilaration did. I never would have believed that ballplayers could bring such joy to fans with the smallest things. Once inside the stadium, we went right to the rail, in the hopes that Jamie could get a close encounter with her beloved, the 2010 rookie-of-the-year catcher Buster Posey. As he was heading out to the outfield for warm-up, she was barely able to muster a “Hi Buster” through her runaway nerves. In response, he turned in her general direction and waved his catcher’s mitt.

You would have thought he came up and kissed her. This 23-year-old put Jamie over cloud nine with a vague wave of a blunt hunk of leather. About an hour later, she summoned the courage to ask him for an autograph as he walked by, and he demurred in his deep-south accent, saying “Sorry, I’ve got something to do.”

Well, that became her catch phrase for the entire weekend — I’ve got something to do. Buster Posey actually spoke to her. Never mind that he blew her off — as far as she was concerned, he opened a window into his soul with that little rejection. He made her day, no, her entire weekend. Later on, when she actually did get his autograph, and their fingers touched during the pen exchange, her reaction reminded me of the crazed Beatles fans who refused to wash their hands because they came in contact with a pillow case that, three weeks earlier, Ringo Starr was reported to have used in Room 715 of the Hilton Hotel.

The phenomenon of stardom plays out in many ways and I can’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for these athletes, however overpaid and overindulged they are. I think of all of the activities that we take for granted that are implausible for them. It rained Saturday afternoon so Jamie and I walked to the Denny’s a block away. Buster Posey couldn’t have done that. The following evening, we walked to the famous Sugar Bowl dessert shop in Scottsdale and browsed Old Town. Could the enigmatic relief pitcher Brian Wilson have done that? Only if he were willing to sign hundreds of autographs along the way. I imagine I would like the idea of earning $12 million dollars per year and I bet I could get used to receiving free stuff on a daily basis. But would I be able to give up my freedom? I bet most of us couldn’t really imagine what it would be like, but watching the way autograph hawkers pounced on these ballplayers last weekend, I got a glimpse of life in their bubble.

I give up my freedom for four days out of the year. At the Presentation Summit, I am public property and 200 people have unfettered access to me 18 hours out of the day. I’m sure that this is nothing like what the celebrities experience because I welcome it, I indulge it, I enjoy it, and I know that it is very temporary. The more relevant point of comparison is some of our keynote speakers who are like the rock stars of our industry. People like Nancy Duarte, Garr Reynolds, Nigel Holmes, and Julie Terberg. Patrons regularly tell us ahead of the event about how excited they are  to get a chance to meet their idols and heroes. They seek autographs, they hang on their every word, and they watch how they conduct themselves in public.

Here is the important distinction, and forgive the implied sales pitch, but it is one of the qualities of the conference of which I am most proud: our rock stars do not act like rock stars. Very few of our presenters blow in, give a keynote, and depart. They hang out with the patrons, they eat lunch with them, socialize with them, talk shop with them, sometimes get drunk with them. And I get to see how much the patrons value and appreciate that. (Garr Reynolds appears via Skype from his home in Osaka, but even from a virtual stage, our patrons enjoy the privilege of feeling as if they really get to know him.)

Professional presenters understand the value of showing genuine qualities and not indulging in pretense. They know that they cannot depersonalize encounters with people the way that athletes are forced to. One of these days, perhaps the Summit might attract a true A-list celebrity to deliver a keynote and then it would be fascinating to see how these two worlds collide. How would someone accustomed to being mobbed deal with our environment which urges high-fliers to come down to sea level? Perhaps it would be refreshing for her. Maybe she’d become a regular.

Well, I can always dream…

One of the more interesting aspects of this product is that its application in modern-day society is based largely on our imagination. I have seen servers use it to take orders at restaurants and insurance adjusters collect data in the field. Just last week, while touring hotels for possible venues for the Presentation Summit, the sales manager whipped out her iPad to show me photos of sleeping rooms. Naturally curious about how well it might serve as a presentation device, I purchased one.

It is certainly sexy, like all of the products that come from Apple. And it enjoys the panache of a product that just seems to work organically and naturally. But the real test would be how well it could project my slides and how well it would allow me to function in front of a room full of people.

Microsoft does not yet offer a PowerPoint version for the iPad, but Keynote does and it costs only $10. Keynote claims to be able to open PowerPoint files, and indeed, my version 2010 files opened with little backtalk. Except for getting them there — without a USB port, file transfer to an iPad involves a mysterious journey through iTunes. Of course, Apple is happy to sell you on a MobileMe account, but I wasn’t going there. I was okay with the $10 for Keynote, but I wasn’t about to invest in a service to compensate for Apple’s refusal to embrace standard USB connectivity.

Keynote does not translate motion paths or simultaneous animations well, and my embedded objects that require the Windows OLE engine were rendered inert. But these were relatively easy fixes, and in short order, I was displaying slides that were indistinguishable from the originals.

Next task: connect it to the projector. How? Where? A device that offers no USB connection is surely to be devoid of VGA connectors. The main power and docking port is the sole conduit to the outside world (except for WiFi) and Apple was happy to sell me a VGA adapter for $29. I didn’t mind paying the $500 for the unit itself, but this $29 purchase continues to rankle me.

Still, the connector did its job and before long, Keynote was happily sharing slides with my projector. Interestingly, the unit only pumps video out to the projector when actually running a slide show. If you drop out of show mode, the external display goes blank. This means that I cannot conduct software demos and tutorials and at first that disappointed me. But I have come to terms with the fact that the iPad is not intended to replace a computer. The question is whether it can handle the basic tasks within a profession. For instance, I will not try to create a presentation on the iPad; it is enough that I be able to show one. That seems like the appropriate litmus test.

And so far so good. I had moved my slides over to it and successfully connected it to the projector. Now how about the actual delivery? I whipped out my trusty wireless remote…you know, the simple $45 gadget whose receiver connects to the USB port…crap. How about my Bluetooth remote…crap, no BT support on the iPad.

I began to search the App Store and quickly uncovered many apps with the word Remote in it, including this:

“Control iTunes, Apple TV, and other apps using your iPhone, iPod Touch, or iPad over your WiFi network.” I verified that it supports Keynote and I do own a Touch, so I cobbled together the $0.99 to purchase this program known simply as Remote. I would need to make sure that I have a WiFi connection and that both devices are connected to it, but that should be no problem.

Here’s where the happy ending to this story should go, but not today. Remote will allow you to advance slides on Keynote running on a Mac and you can do it from either your Touch or from an iPad. However, it will not allow you to use your Touch to advance slides from Keynote running on an iPad. This is complicated, I know, and at first I was certain that I was just being outsmarted by these little apps and small devices. So I turned to the network of Apple support forums and confirmed that there is no way to drive Keynote for the iPad remotely. An amusing battle took place on these forums:

“I want to advance slides on my iPad.”

“Just touch the screen once.”

“I need to be able to do it remotely.”

“You’re asking for too much. It’s not a computer.”

“That is not asking for too much.”

“Apple had to draw the line somewhere.”

“How do I work the slides if I can’t advance them.”

“Just place the iPad on the podium.”

I got so close — I transferred all of my slides, converted them successfully, and got all the way to the actual projection of my slides through the projector, which you would have thought to be the biggest obstacle of all. And now when it comes time to actually deliver the presentation, I am required to stand behind a podium? I have spent the last five years advocating against the use of podiums (podia?). This little gadget was about to turn me into a hypocrite.

Here is where the irony becomes almost too much to bear. Can you imagine if Steve Jobs were tasked with presenting from his iPad? The master of modern-day presentation, having to stand behind a podium??

Apple’s decision to not include a USB port with the first generation iPad has effectively prevented me from using it in my profession. That saddens me, because I had high hopes for it. And of all people, you would have thought that one of the most celebrated public speakers of our era would have made sure that his latest product would have supported his craft.

Until the iPad provides more connectivity, I will have no choice but to view it as a curiosity first and a legitimate business tool second.

First, some context. Social media has become one of the most important marketing tools in the world. Over half of the readers of this column will have come to it via Facebook and the discussions over at LinkedIn are a wonderful way to showcase expertise and talent. Twitter’s value to the business world has barely been imagined yet, and the explosion of the iPad and other Internet-enabled tablets could play into all of this in a profound way. No self-respecting marketing professional would imagine not including social media support into a suite of services. We are going to return to that last statement later so it warrants elaboration: social media support is a critical component of a modern marketing plan.

I have reached two conclusions about my self now that I’m north of 50. The first is that I create pretty good content. The second is that I lack the resources, personal bandwidth, and/or patience to properly leverage that content through social media channels. So yes, last summer, I found a firm to help me with that, with the express goal of attracting potential patrons to the Presentation Summit, our annual conference. “We know social media,” claims the company’s website. “Businesses struggle to keep pace with this rapidly changing social media  landscape and many are challenged with finding the most effective way to integrate social media into their marketing strategy.”

That described my business, all right, so I hired this company, which I will fictitiously refer to as Social Media Inc., or SMI, to a six-month contract to help me market the Summit and brand myself as its leader.

SMI was as ambitious and energetic as you would expect from a company whose founder was half my age. Their reps wasted no time engaging me in interviews and discussing the multi-tiered approaches that they recommended we take. I was open to their ideas and provided them with access to my Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter accounts. This was necessary, they said, in order to boost my presence and leverage my content. I agreed with this—if I didn’t have the wherewithal to leverage my own content, I needed someone else to do it for me.

What happened over the next three months was nothing short of a cacophony. Sophisticated software, buzzing 24×7, did the following things:

• Scoured Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter for people who showed even a passing interest in presentation or PowerPoint and sent requests to friend or connect with me.
• Scooped up my own editorials and pulled out snippets that were of the right size to make tweets and posts.
• Weaved those in with generic “I sure am getting excited about the Presentation Summit” entries.
• Powered these out the door at carefully-randomized time intervals so as not to evoke the spam controls of the various services.

This all took place in front of two groups: 1) family members and friends who knew me well; and 2) about 550 new Facebook friends and LinkedIn contacts who had never heard of me but who accepted the automated invitations sent out on my behalf. For all intent and purpose, I spammed these people with a loud brew of buzz, juice, and noise. Some of it was merely useless, like random quotes from Mark Twain about public speaking, but others were more troubling, like the one that spelled the software as “Power Point” or the one that used “me” instead of “I” in a sentence. Even my wife said to me “You’re sure sending out a lot of posts and they don’t really sound like you.”

SMI was very good at its core services, which it referred to as “social media growth tactics”—a phrase that showed up on every one of my bi-weekly status updates. But did all of this help me? Did this help my brand? It made me more visible, but I have no confidence that people thought better of me because I was in their face seven to 10 times per day. Did it result in an increase in attendance at the Presentation Summit? I ran a cross-check between new patrons, joining us for the first time in 2010 and all of my new social media contacts—there was one person in that intersection.

Did it make my life easier? Well, I certainly have a lot more virtual friends and connections now, but even that was not handled with much deftness. Among my new Facebook friends were a handful of 12-year-olds, a retired monk who lives in Uganda, and various other individuals far, far removed from the presentation landscape. Worse, SMI did not think to create a new Facebook account for me, so now my one personal FB account, containing all of my tried-and-true friends and family members, also plays host to several hundred people whom I have never met. I don’t want to risk insulting any of them — many of them will be reading this as a result of our new liaison and I value that highly. I just would have liked the opportunity to compartmentalize my relationships a bit.

Looking back, I hired a group with software skills, computer savvy, and high energy, but no practical experience or expertise in marketing. I made the mistake of thinking that a social media expert would be a marketing expert and I now see how naive that was of me. As social media has become such a hot commodity, it is now painfully obvious how many people have hung out shingles with only the technical aptitude, not the experience or vision about winning over hearts and minds.

I am not suggesting that all social media companies would be found similarly lacking; I’m sure there are many that blend a fuller complement of skills. And to those companies, I would offer the following advice: don’t call yourselves social media experts; call yourselves marketing and/or branding experts. Make it clear that you will weave an understanding of social media into an overall mastery of the craft. I have every right to expect that a competent, modern marketing firm will exhibit keen awareness of social media strategies. I have learned, however, not to expect that a social media firm will exhibit competence in the larger arena of marketing and branding.

That was a valuable lesson learned.

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What’s the next best thing to a live conference? A free webinar series that features the best of the best. Get your questions answered from top presentation, PowerPoint, and speaking experts by joining on to the Outstanding Presentations Workshop webinars, hosted and organized by Ellen Finkelstein, presentation specialist, author, and Microsoft MVP.

The workshop begins next Wednesday, Sep 15, with a 60-minute webinar by yours truly, and continues with seven more, each covering a different topic on the presentation landscape. Here is the complete schedule (all webinars begin at 1:00PT / 4:00ET):

The webinars are completely free, but they do require advance registration. For complete details and to sign up, visit

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If I could do that, I would.

To be sure, she is not the only national political figure to be active on social media, but she might be the one to most embrace its culture. And she does herself no favors in so completely immersing herself in Twitter-speak.

She saw fit to tweet on the flap created over Dr. Laura Schlessinger’s recent resignation:

Dr.Laura:don’t retreat … reload! (Steps aside bc her 1st Amend.rights ceased 2exist thx 2activists trying 2silence “isn’t American,not fair”)…watch out Constitutional obstructionists. And b thankful 4 her voice,America!

Well. Let’s set aside a few things here. Let’s set aside that my 14-year-old texts with better use of popular abbreviations. Let’s overlook how difficult it is to distill the meaning or source of the quote “isn’t American,not fair” [sic]. And let’s forgive the incredibly dubious argument that there was any obstruction of constitution that took place when Dr. Schlessinger chose to resign (without being fired).

Sarah Palin was a vice-presidential candidate. She is a leader of the Republican party. She is on anyone’s short list of top candidates for the GOP nomination in 2012. And she chooses to express herself in pop-culture non literacy?

She has completely lost herself in the part.

Embracing social media as a platform for sharing ideas is a fine pursuit. Doing it in the national political arena (where it is still counter culture) is potentially brilliant. But allowing your semantic voice to slide to grade-school level, because that’s the way that young tweeters do it? That is a massive miscalculation that calls the core of her political judgment into question. (I can only imagine the field day Democratic attack ads will have quoting these tweets verbatim.)

Is this woman fit to be President? Of the myriad reasons that people have to say no, perhaps the top of the list is how she chooses to represent herself in public. Embracing social media does not require you to become illiterate. We all get to learn that lesson in the relative comfort of our anonymity. I fear that Sarah Palin will learn that lesson as a candidate for the highest office in the land and the result might not be pretty.

We give lots of presentations for small groups. Our primary audiences are financial institutions where our product would be a good fit for their customer base, and we are trying to convince them to partner with us to offer our products.

In these meetings, we might be able to offer handouts, but not likely to be able to access a screen to have a “live” show. Sometimes, it is challenging to even crack open the deck as the audience members just don’t want it. Do we try to force it or just go with the flow?

_______________

Never, ever force a slide deck upon someone. The members of your audience are reluctant enough to sit through them on their own volition. The implicit formality of projected material makes it less than ideal for small meetings which tend to be more like conversations. While it is possible to create a scenario in which it is comfortable to show slides in that environment, it would require a willing partner. If the partner is not willing, it is never going to feel right.

Presenters in small gatherings should ALWAYS be prepared, ready, and able to speak off the cuff, off script, and without aids. From there, they could introduce them gradually, starting with one or two printed sheets, working up to a handout or leave behind. And maybe, in the course of conversation about a deep topic, you could flip open your notebook to show a visual that would help illuminate the topic.

But trying to get to the slide deck misses the real objective. In small meetings, eye contact is the promised land. You don’t want anything to take away from that while you are trying to engage and connect.

___________________________

Follow up from the attendee:

In a small group, if you feel you need to hand something out to get the conversation going, would you hand out a two- or three-page summary for conversation, and then leave a more detailed presentation behind?

_______________

I would not hand anything out to “get the conversation going” — I would try to make that happen myself. Remember, you are the presentation. And in small groups, your eyes are everything.

Once going, then yes, I would be ready with a short summary, preferably by directing them to the summary section of the handout. I am unconvinced as to the wisdom of having two separate leave behinds, given the likelihood that one of them would be misplaced. My instincts would be toward a single handout with an executive summary in place.