But then as the sales and marketing transformation began to take hold and we began to actually listen to our customers we were forced to admit that they frequently had no idea what we were talking about or why we were taking up time on their appointment calendars at all. Enter Thomas K. Mira.
Tom was a communication training and crisis management expert who had made his mark handling public relations for California nuclear power industry executives who were operating in a very hostile political environment. He also worked as a speech and debate coach for presidential candidates, members of Congress and governors. Our new boss charged Tom Mira with teaching us how to communicate better and to show no mercy in doing so. Mira excelled on both counts and the simple lessons he drilled into us have stayed with me.
Some were simply basic: Go to the bathroom before you speak. And fellas, on a related item, check your fly before you climb to the podium. Straighten your tie. Button your jacket. Although wardrobes have changed since then I think audiences still notice whether a speaker demonstrates regard for them in his attire and manner. They certainly notice whether his fly is open.
Other lessons were simply elegant, sort of like Einstein's relativity equation, capable of unleashing extraordinary power. This is the one that helped me the most:
You are not ready to speak until you can reduce everything you intend to say into one sentence.
Tom taught us that every talk, regardless of length, should be reduced to a single sentence because this discipline helps a speaker to get clear about his message and to thrash and winnow his words so that they are as pure and powerful as possible.
Consider the opportunity that an effective talk can create. In 1998 I was helping our company open up Chile for first-line U.S. defense systems, and through Chile to gain entry into a big South American market that was virgin territory for us after decades of harsh embargoes and an environment of mutual disrespect. U.S.security cooperation policy in the region had been completely reshaped and liberalized by the Clinton Administration, but defense officials in Santiago still did not believe that we could be trusted to keep our promises. Suspicion and hostility ran deep. We were getting nowhere.
Then on Thursday, April 16th President Clinton landed in Chile. (I remember the date because I had been evicted from my Hilton hotel room to make way for his entourage.)
In every statement the President made over the course of his brief visit he delivered one simple message that transformed the environment for U.S. companies overnight. Literally overnight. In press conferences, proclamations, signing ceremonies, and a speech to a joint session of the National Assembly in Valparaiso he said, Chile has earned the respect of the free world and deserves recognition as a leader in the advance of liberty and economic development in the Americas and around the world. Here is an excerpt from a speech to local business leaders:
"I'm told that when this city was founded in 1541, it was called Santiago del Nuevo Extremo—Santiago of the New Frontier. On the verge of the 21st century, Santiago is again on that new frontier. It is a window through which we can see over tomorrow's horizon to a future of freedom and broadly-shared prosperity."
Chilean people and their political leaders were electrified. No American leader had demonstrated such respect for the Chilean nation in living memory. In the ensuing months trade between Chile and the U.S. accelerated rapidly and continues to expand more than a decade later.
Unfortunately, there are also many examples of undisciplined, muddled, confused blather all about. Through thousands of talks lasting minutes to hours I think the most common assauts I have witnessed inflicted on an audience were committed by speakers opening their mouths without having a clue about what they meant to say. This is true in every setting, from slide shows to panel discussions to Sunday sermons.
Consider the cost. If the vicar has no notion of the main idea his homily will to deliver he will certainly squander parishioners' time and the resources that have been invested by the parish to create the setting for the sermon. In my church this could be the value of several thousand man hours listeners spend to attend plus a substantial share of a multi-million dollar operating budget for staff, technology and facilities. (The senior pastor in my church, as it happens, never commits this transgression, which I regard as miraculous.)
Applying Tom's rule helps prevent such waste. Once you have this précis you can decide whether you have a message worth delivering at all. If not, you can just be still. The world will have less noise in it and people will have a little extra time. You will have improved the world by your silence.
A caveat: our assessments of the value of our own ideas are subject to skewing particularly in comparison to others. A second opinion is a good idea. My dad, a Baptist pastor for 45 years, often reminded himself with a ditty penned, perhaps, by Shakespeare:
Lives there a man with soul so dead
Who never in his heart as said,
"I can preach a better sermon than that, any time!"
Lives there a man with soul so dead
Who never in his heart as said,
"I can preach a better sermon than that, any time!"
But if you do have something worthwhile to say, now you can test every word and sentence: Does it contribute to the audience's understanding of your important idea? Honest communicators know that their first drafts contain more scrap than substance. Humility reveals how little we say is worth the time needed to hear it. Ruthless editing is an act of kindness.
Inviting people to trust you with their time and attention is to assume the responsibility to demonstrate respect by using it well. This does not happen automatically. Success requires discipline, humility, preparation. Learning to say it in one sentence helps you to say something useful, to say it briefly, and to say it well. Or to know better and just sit down and shut up.
