Absolute PowerPoint Corrupts Absolutely

I’m sitting in a 3-day training course in Kuala Lumpur. It's being held in a conference room at the Renaissance Hotel, so named because the tired decor looks like it's a few hundred years old.

This morning’s presenter is Peggy. I’m sure she thinks I’m paying attention to her ... because while typing this entry I am also maintaining constant eye contact with our Peggy ... and when I detect a distinct change in the pace or volume of Peggy's words I throw in a couple of affirming nods. The ability to touch type opens many doors.

Peggy’s morning will be spent standing in front of the room talking about Risk Mitigation When Estimating Contingency Pricing For Complex Integration Projects And Linking This To Quantifed Business Value. I kid you not. It includes a case study from the Bulgarian Tax Office. And most of the audience is riveted. I kid you not.

There are about 60 people on this course: representatives from our various business units around the globe. In my company it's called a globe (not a world). There is a rumour we may start calling it a planet. But that's just a rumour. There may be a leak from Marketing. Like any good consultant I will take to the quicker than the Pig Flu in a call centre.

Africa is here. So is Russia. We’ve been flown here to learn how to become better marionettes. Although sometimes it feels like our sole purpose is to discretely fish for mints from the ever-depleted stock in the white bowl. While these bowls spend their mornings overflowing with shiny wrapped sweets they end their day empty, surrounded by a sea of plastic blue carcasses.

Like me, many people in this room are taking a lot of notes. Unlike me, their notes probably relate to Peggy’s presentation. I suspect that I am the only one in the room who is penning an insubordinate little treatise although on the surface I seem to be paying more attention and taking more notes than anyone. Beneath the surface, I am finding this course so dry that it will drive me to drink. Boom boom.

I'm lucky to be in the middle of the room. In most corporate presentations the worst seats are located in the front row and usually empty until the very end. It’s the exact opposite of a Madonna concert. These front seats must be avoided at all costs because there is nowhere to hide. Once relegated to them, wave goodbye to any plans for your Blackberry, or laptop, or phone, or Nana nap.

Wait. I have to stop for a bit because some potato from China has just gotten up to ask a question:

“Hi Peggy. Here is Andreas from China team. We have seen similar issues with our own risk assessments during the earlier stages, it’s true. But when we are during the project we fail to incorporate. I am wondering how can I use this contingency approach when I start to execute my project plan?”

I imagine Andreas executing his project plan. He is dressed in a hooded black robe, carrying a large manila folder full of papers as he solemnly climbs the stairs up to the guillotine. Andreas places the folder carefully into the contraption. Silence descends on the room. The folder starts to tremble as its individual documents, charts, Post-it notes and spreadsheets spend their final moments quivering nervously. Andreas pulls the rope. Crack! Hundreds of pieces of paper fly up into the air and all over the room. As all the paper slowly rains down around him, Andreas feels like he has just won a car on the Wheel of Fortune. Just in case, he instinctively pulls back his hood and looks for the pretty girl carrying a large bunch of flowers.

“That’s an excellent question Andreas. Later on in the presentation we’ll be touching on some slide which outline these types of challenges, including many critical success factors in managing risk within project execution.”

Clearly, Peggy didn’t understand the question. The slides won't be coming later, either. I know this. So does Andreas. So does the rest of the class. Andreas nods enthusiastically and mouths a “thanks” to Peggy as he sits back down.

Any experienced presenter will naturally work the room as they speak. This usually involves directing your voice and your body language back and forth across the room, much like watching a tennis match in very slow motion.

Other techniques for presenters include 1-2 seconds of regular eye contact on key audience members. This is done by finding 4 or 5 people who seem to be paying attention and focusing on them though a few words. 2 seconds max, because it’s not a staring competition. It is still important to continue scanning the entire audience, because you need backups in case your initial chosen ones start looking elsewhere.

As I think about this – while maintaining my guise of nodding and typing – I start to feel bored and frustrated. My eyebrows gang up on me and attempt a frown. I make a small adjustment, just in time, and turn it into a look of earnest concentration. Peggy notices me and seems to approve. I nod, to seal the deal just in case. She smiles and nods back. Peggy seems to have just plucked out a new Class Pet from the litter.

Peggy doesn’t realize is that this was not her choice.

Having done so many large presentations myself, I am well aware of how presenter like to focus and engage with the audience, including how they locate their eye contact focal points in the crowd. Even a good presenter will fail without using these points ... much like a dancer who attempts their pirouettes without spotting.

Sometimes, as an audience member, I actively try to become one of these focal points. I prefer the term Class Pet and have a series of proven techniques to move myself up the food chain.

I usually set myself a deadline to become Class Pet; somewhere between 2 and 15 minutes. Why bother? Boredom, mainly … especially when trapped in the front row.

Here are a few tips to a Pettier you:

1. Maintain constant eye contact with the presenter whenever possible.
   
   
2. Nod at key points. Sometimes vigorously.
   
   
3. Smile constantly. Ensure it’s not a dopey grin or an obsequious gush – just a gentle upturn of the sides of the mouth and some warmth in your eyes. Get yourself into the zone by repeating to yourself “I am getting so much good stuff out of this presentation”.
   
   
4. Pretend to take notes. But here’s the clincher – halfway through taking a notes, look up quickly at something they’ve said, look quizzical, then nod curtly, then continue the note again. It’s like you’re TOTALLY taking down their words.
   
   
5. When all else fails, ask an insightful question and use the instructor’s name. You don’t need to have been listening. There are plenty of questions out there that can be used. Just wait for a pause and say something like “Peggy what do you think would be the key differences in how this can be applied to growth markets such as Vietnam, versus more mature markets like the Switzerland or Canada?” Another example (of which there are many) is “Peggy how do you think this has this changed over the years? What I mean is … were we doing it this 5 years ago and if not, what were some of the mistakes we were making during that time?” Now remember this – we are in a training presentation so of course things have changed over the years. That’s why experienced people are being trained. However, the instructor will nearly always begin with “That’s an excellent question …” before answering it.
   
   
6. Don’t just nod when they answer it … but add something American like “OK thanks Peggy - that’s great
   
   
7. If Peggy asks you whether it answered your question … be more crisp. Nod and say something like “Yes. Perfectly."
   
   
8. Never – and I repeat NEVER – look around the room to see if you are being noticed by your colleagues. This is arrogant and self serving. It is possible to have your pet and eat it too.
   
   
9. At the end of the class, go up to the instructor quickly and thank them. Tell them you got a lot from the presentation and would they mind if you called them occasionally to pick their brains.

Each of these techniques requires practice and nerve. However, once mastered they are guaranteed to make you the Class Pet without you having to listen to the presenter, understand the topic, absorb any key messages or retain any of the presentation material.

The trick is to do this sparingly and with intelligent humility. There is a facial expression which is recognisably dedicated to intelligent humility ... but just make sure you practice in the mirror before taking it out in public.

If done elegantly, your colleagues will also see you as an expert and not as an annoying time waster.

Class Pet is but one of the roles I adopt when bored. But there are many others including Class Clown, Most Likely To Succeed and sometimes Class-A Dickhead. The one which requires most skills and practice is Disrupt The Presentation Entirely By Enticing The Room And The Presenter Into Lively Debate That Feels Like Freestyle Learning But Is Really Just Making The Clock Go Faster. This one takes considerable time, effort and expertise. It is not for the feeble hearted.

I am well aware that this type of behaviour is very inappropriate and I am not always proud of myself. I think it's one of those silly, guilty pleasures that we can’t quite explain. For some people it’s chocolate. For others it’s murder. I guess mine is somewhere in the middle, but hopefully closer to chocolate.

Back to this morning's presentation. I actually do understand quite a lot about this topic that Peggy is presenting. I am also learning more about this topic by being here in this course. The problem is that I just ... don’t ... care. But worse than that, I suspect that most people don’t care. I think Andreas probably cares, but he lost my respect when he shot his hand straight up in the air to ask his question. His arm was rigid and his face was pleading as he waited for Peggy to notice him. It doesn't help that he's German and plump. If Andreas had some food stains on his shirt and he would have looked like a 5-year-old boy in school assembly. I decided to sit next to him at lunch and try to spill something on him.

Nearly everyone in the room also knows that we are being taught by Peggy will be impossible to do. This is not pessimism or fear of change, this is simply because we are not structured or funded to do this type of stuff. We all know this. Peggy knows this too. And she knows we know. And we know she knows we know.

So what the fuck are we all doing here?

At this stage I’m no longer listening to any of it. I’m still typing and nodding (of course). I am still watching Peggy – she has a lovely speaking voice and a remote control clicker thing which moves her slides forward. It even shines a red light on key bullet points. But my eyes are emptying themselves out as I allow my mind to wander … a wayward journey along recalcitrant thoughts ... it’s dark in there and I don’t know where I’m going. Wayward, and aimless. It makes me wonder what I'm doing in this room with these people, looking at this PowerPoint deck, talking about the Bulgarian Tax Department. It's so ridiculous that I smile. Peggy smiles back.

If Peggy decides that this is the time to ask her Class Pet for an opinion or an example, I’m fucked. Maybe she will understand. Her presentation is about risk, after all, and I’m just helping myself to a little.