If you could say exactly what you mean without worrying whether it sounds clever or impressive, what would you say?
If you could let go of the judgment of others and tell the story the way you actually feel it, what would you say?
If you could skip the selling and simply get to the point, what would you say?
Why don’t you?
Sometimes we just overthink it.
Keep lighting the path,
Michael
Some businesses still live by the belief that a “thank you” is for amateurs. Professionals don’t need a “thank you” because that’s what the money is for.
Logically that makes sense:
You do the work, I give you the money. We’re square.
Professionals handle things professionally. Get used to it.
And yet.
A “thank you” is one of the easiest ways to give your team a feeling of being seen.
It costs nothing to give.
It can mean the world when you receive it.
Even if you’re a professional.
Even if you know it’s not required.
Even more when it’s not expected.
It turns the transaction into an interaction.
It makes business feel a little more human.
Can you push through and deliver without a “thank you”? Certainly.
Does it feel better with the occasional one? I bet that’s true for almost everyone.
But in the end, it’s a choice, of course: you can cultivate a culture of strict duty, or one where excellence is driven by recognition and encouragement.
Who did you offer a “thank you” recently although it wasn’t required?
Recently, I saw two concerts at a festival. One started with a 3 minute explanation of what we were about to hear: That this was her most political song, yet. Why it is structured the way it is. What it means to her.
The other started with the band playing a groove. Then, the singer entered the stage, stretched her arms wide … and began to sing.
We left the former performance after about 5 minutes and were mesmerised by the latter, glued to our seats for 90 minutes.
It’s the result of a profound shift in perspective. The first band’s major concern was to make sure that we see the brilliance of their music. The band leader worked hard to explain it to us so that we wouldn’t miss it. They wanted to make sure that we could appreciate it. They wanted to shine. They wanted something from the audience.
The second act’s major concern was to give their audience a great time by playing their best music. They did shine. They wanted to give something to the audience.
And so, the paradox outcome was that we appreciated the brilliance of the second performance while dismissing the first.
There’s an important lesson for any kind of communication here. When we ourselves don’t even trust in our own message but rather feel the need to have to explain it before we deliver it, how should our audience trust in it? Even worse: this bit of insecurity shows. Audiences are super good to sense when there’s a dissonance between what a speaker says and what she really feels – whether she really believes in what she says.
Our effort is much better spent with making our message actually brilliant than with explaining why our audiences should consider it brilliant.
By not trying to do your best. Sounds absurd, but it’s true. Let me explain …
The problem with doing your best is that you might be too busy doing your best. Instead of speaking, your mind is busy thinking about what your hands are doing, or how you’re pronouncing that word, or how you are standing, worrying about your posture, busy trying to avoid “uh”, and so many other things …
Trying to do your best causes stress.
The irony is that it doesn’t actually make you do any better. Go ahead, try it: Say hello to the next person you meet and give it your best. Try to give your best when you say “Hello”. Sounds pretty strange, doesn’t it? Somehow artificial. Stiff. Unnatural.
If you had just said it, if you had just said “Hello” it would have sounded so much more natural. So much more pleasant for the other person.
Giving your audience the best is a much better approach than giving your best. Because it is a more appropriate perspective. When you are concerned with your best, you are concerned with yourself. When, however, you are concerned with the best, you are concerned with the cause.
Give your audience the best you have to offer. Valuable knowledge, interesting insights, inspiring outlooks. But don’t worry about yourself on stage so much.
Sure, practice beforehand. Prepare well. Ask yourself whether the content is actually exciting. Practice even more. Get yourself a coach.
But when you go on stage, stop worrying about yourself. The more you are present in the moment instead of worrying about what to do in the next moment, the more you will get into a flow. The more you make it about the audience, the more it will be a worthwhile experience for the audience. The less you try to do your best, the more likely it will actually be your best.
Get This Moment Counts in your inbox.
How exceptional leaders communicate when the message has to land
I value your privacy. No spam. Just “Great stuff, brilliantly articulated” (to use the words of longtime reader David).