By David A. Fields
The greatest show on earth! That's what the consultants at a large, New-England based consulting firm were set to stage at a pitch presentation for a major (8-figure) project. Almost a dozen consultants were there, armed with massive binders, impressive collateral and PowerPoint slides replete with snappy animations and carefully contrived turns of phrase. The result, which I witnessed, was a disaster.
Had they brought a shiny, yellow object instead, they may have won the gig.
Those New Englanders aren't the exception, though. Not by a long shot. Many of us consultants strive to mount the ultimate, mind-blowing performance when we walk into a pitch presentation or when it comes time to present our deliverables. A full-scale, no-holds barred, knock 'em outta their seats extravaganza. Sometimes we call them dog-and-pony shows. Dazzling PowerPoints, amped up credentials, towers of testimonials, methodology more intricate than a Rube Goldberg machine, plus our own special brand of charm. It's a veritable circus.
When I was a kid my parents used to take me to the circus at Madison Square Garden—The Greatest Show on Earth! Elephants and horses and men on stilts. Endless clowns in red, blue, yellow and green emerging one after another from a tiny car; every one of them was different, amazing and absolutely terrifying. Three rings of frenetic, high-energy performers. So many spectacles and stunts you didn't know which way to turn your eyes.
But the fact is, from the moment we reached our seats I only had eyes for one thing. In the stands across the arena hung whirling lines of lights. Circles, streaks and figure eights popped up here and there and everywhere. Looking around the stadium closer to our own seats, I realized these cornea-scorching marvels were the result of small flashlights on a lanyard. Shaped like Zippo lighters with a red top that you could flip open to activate the tiny bulb. Kids would grasp one end of the lanyard and spin the toy around, causing, in the shadowed stands of the arena, the whorls and zig-zagging patterns of light. Three stages populated by the most talented, funny, daring performers on the globe and all I wanted was a cheap flashlight.
As consultants, far too often we're worried about orchestrating the whole kermis when what the prospect or client wants is an engaging, shiny object. We offer a three-ring circus of methodology, case studies and results, and we get entirely too wrapped up in our own performance. Even if your oratorical skills are on par with Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr., no dazzling display of brilliance is ever as effective with clients and prospects as a well-crafted, shiny yellow object.
Why? First, because the circus is observed, whereas the toy is experienced. At the three-ring performance you relax back into your uncomfortable, stadium seat, try not to think about what disgusting substances are making the concrete floor so sticky, and watch the astounding action unfold. In contrast, with the Zippo flashlight you are on your feet, spiraling your arms and endeavoring to make something magical materialize in the ether.
You are an integral part of the event. You actively create and experience the light, the whirring noise of the flashlight orbiting at high speed around your finger and the surprising vibrations when the inexpertly managed toy mistakenly cracks into your brother's head. Our clients and prospects will watch our peacock-like, self-aggrandizing shows, and if we're good we may even engage them in discussion, but they much prefer the experience a shiny, yellow object provides.
Second, the flashlight beats the performers because the toy is simple. Its benefit and use are clear, direct, and immediately understandable. Slip the blue lanyard over your finger, snap open the flimsy red cap to turn on the bulb, start it spinning and voila: your own private light show. There's a reason clients pay more for consultants who will boil their issues down to a double-axis chart. People drowning in complexity pounce on simple solutions like cats on a mouse dipped in catnip. Our clients' and prospects' lives are already overwhelming and the straightforward nature of a cleverly-constructed, shiny yellow object calls irresistibly to their need for something easy. If those hot-shots from New England had brought compelling, engaging simplicity to the prom, they would have walked away with the "I won the gig" party hats.
So, what is a shiny, yellow object and how do you construct one? If you were an architect, then your object would probably be one of those 3-dimensional, scale models with the cars that look like they're from the 1950s or an on-screen, virtual walkthrough.
For consultants, our shiny yellow objects tend to be models. Having built plenty of these shiny yellow objects for a variety of consulting firms, I've developed seven, best practice steps for constructing them:
1. What action do you want your client to take after they play with your toy? Sure, asking you to do the project is one response, but not the only one—not by a long shot. I've built models where the intended action was signing a check, picking up the phone, ordering products, and setting up training sessions, just to name a few.
2. What story do you want to tell? The story leads to the action and this is the secret fairy dust in the whole shiny, yellow object magic. For instance, the consulting firm that wanted their clients to request more data had this story in mind: "Marketing solutions based on financial data perform better than those based just on attitudinal responses."
3. What data, evidence or information brings your story to life? Sometimes your client has data, sometimes you can obtain it from public sources, syndicated research or your clients' customers (that's usually the best). What data drives your shiny, yellow object?
4. What parts of the story are hardest to grasp, hardest to believe, most telling or most variable? You can't tell the whole story with your model. We're making the Darth Vader doll with the realistic breath-of-doom sound, not a two-hour sci-fi flick. Your model should focus on that one element that your clients are most likely to jump on—either because it is the most challengeable or it is the most compelling.
5. How could the client manipulate the data themselves? You know those porcelain dolls that sit on the top shelves in glass cases? Boring! It's only a toy if you get to play with it. Even better, it's only a fun toy if you can try to break it. Clients want to play, not watch, so you've got to build in something for them to do. Choose a question, input a phrase, move a slider, press some giant red buttons or one of myriad other ways to get their fingers and brain in on the action. And count on them trying to break it.
6. What could go wrong? There's the story you want to tell, then there's the story that sometimes happens. In Stephen Sondheim's "Into the Woods" the first act of Cinderella-meets-Prince-Charming fairy tales is followed in the second act by Cinderella-is-bored-silly unexpected disasters. If the story always works out in your favor then the client will think your shiny, yellow object is just a sham and it will be tossed away faster than Zazel the clown got shot out of a canon. Hence, you must know in advance what could go wrong and be ready to respond.
7. How will your model and your client meet? Are you going to present the model as part of the dog-and-pony show that you simply can't resist putting on? Will you send it as software? Some models are as robust as a Big Wheels tricycle and you can put them in clients' hands. Others are a bit more like the LEGO Eiffel Tower and I've advised the consultants to keep control. You must plan this part of the shiny, yellow object experience or you'll end up with a broken model, a pouty client and an empty wallet. That's no fun.
Next time you're preparing for a pitch or a deliverables presentation is looming, trade in the dog-and-pony show for a custom made, shiny, yellow object. In the end, you'll end up with more clients coming into your tent.
David A. Fields, the author of The Executive's Guide to Consultants. You can contact David at david@davidafields.com.
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