Presentations, PowerPoint, and George Orwell

From a Q&A with Teresa A. Taylor, COO of Qwest, that ran last September in the New York Times:

Q. Is there anything unusual about the way you run meetings?

A. Well, the first is by saying, “Do we all know why we’re here?”

Q. Do you really say that?

A. Yes, because so many people say, “No, I don’t know, I was invited.” . . . I get invited to a lot of meetings where someone wants to brief me, or bring me up to speed on something, which usually means that they want to tell me about their project and then ask me for money. So I open with: “Do we all know why we’re here? Are we making decisions? Are you going to ask me for something at the end?” I try to get that out right away.

It’s amazing, there will be eight people in the room and they all have a different answer of what’s going on there. I’ll also say, once we’re clear about what we’re doing: “Does everyone need to be here? If anyone feels like they want to leave right now, that would be fine.” Every once in a while a couple of people will say, “Yeah, I could use this time back,” and they get up and leave.

Q. But you could chew up 10 minutes just going around the table.

A. Sure, I think it’s a good 10 minutes. I really do.

Q. What about presentations?

A. I use a little saying, which is, “Be brief, be bright and be gone.” It’s also not uncommon for me to say, “Why don’t we put the PowerPoint aside for a minute and why don’t you just talk to me?”

Q. What’s the maximum number of PowerPoint slides you want to see?

A. Six. But I actually prefer no PowerPoint. To be honest, I’d rather just talk. A really great meeting, to me, is someone who is just talking to me and might give me a piece of paper or two to support something, but that’s it.

A couple things strike me about this exchange. One, Ms. Taylor makes a good case for why tools like PowerPoint are best managed by pushy, efficiency-minded people. Like all technological tools, they magnify the qualities of the user. If you’re timid, PowerPoint enables your timidity. If you’re one of the most restless creative minds of your generation, technologies like PowerPoint are more likely to showcase your incredible avidity.

Either way, a limit on its use — six slides per presentation — is good for all parties. Taylor is essentially saying that she forces presenters to edit themselves, and call me biased, but I believe editing tends to clarify one’s thinking.

Two, technologies like PowerPoint make it easy to pass off sloppy thoughts. “Just talk” is less forgiving. There’s no place for half-baked ideas to hide when you’re “just talking.” To borrow from Orwell again, when you make a stupid remark its stupidity will be obvious, even to yourself.

Spam Comment Poetry III

Hello there, very nice place

I’d like a packet of biscuits,

please.

Are you from San Diego?

In truth, immediately I didn’t understand the essence. But after re-reading all at once became clear.

You will need to see a doctor.

High-Fiber Diets

Going to the Lucy Kellaway well once again. This time she writes about the vast quantities of written communication and information available today—actually, not only available, but all but forced on us—and how all this “stuff” [her word] threatens to make managers resort to ever stupider ways to get people’s attention. She queries a friend employed in communications for a big company:

She has noticed that her staff are responding to the information overload not by digesting too much of it, but by stopping to digest anything at all. She tells me that, in her company, the written word has lost almost all its power. No one reads e-mails any more – with the exception of those from the boss. Messages from anyone else are either deleted unread or given a cursory glance and then ignored. Messages on Twitter have slightly more impact, but 140 characters seem to be too many for some, and the sheer number of these messages means many of them miss their mark.

Read the rest of this entry »

Spam Comment Poetry II

We must have lunch together.

That’s it.

I love you.

My company produces electronic equipment.

I’ll have another lager, please.

Have you got a bigger one?

Let’s look at your throat.

Does anything hurt ache?

Where are you going?

I hope that I did not hurt you.

I really like your blog and i respect your work. I’ll be a frequent visitor.

Spam Comment Poetry

Ya tender a grin in my face.

Where can I get a bus to the museum?

What would you propose then?

No way!

I don’t feel like going there.

It’s out of the question.

Well

Can you recommend a good disco?

My name is Liz.

I’ll just check your weight.

I am not feeling very well.

How to Be Somewhat Useless on Twitter

Over at The Big Money, Mark Gimein looks at Twitter, and the possibility that they’re facing a “No one goes there anymore; it’s too crowded”* moment:

In the recent history of technology, we’ve often been told of the value of “network effects.” Much of our experience of technology is with positive network effects and increasing returns as more people take advantage of it. An obvious example is e-mail; the more people use it to communicate, the more useful it is. Yet network effects can also be negative. A park that is popular becomes more vibrant and appealing. But a park that gets too popular is just crowded. Twitter’s growth has been so rapid that it is clearly bumping up against the limits of its usefulness. It is not only increasingly full of noise, but the sheer volume of stuff coming through the Twitter fire hose renders even what was useful much harder to pick apart and make sense of. [emphasis mine]

Speaking very broadly, at issue is the very basic problem of what happens when everyone is encouraged to be a vocal self-promoter, and several times a day. One of the concerns I had when starting this site–something I would not have done if I didn’t have a book to promote last year–is precisely this law of collective diminishing returns. Continues Gimein:

The real issue with Twitter as it grows bigger is not how few people send out messages but how extremely prolific the top Twitterers are—and how profligate many users are in pressing the “follow” button. I am only an occasional Twitterer. Right now I follow 27 Twitter feeds. By Twitter standards, this is not by any means a big number, but I already find myself overwhelmed by the volume of messages these 27 people alone generate. Most of my followers follow many more than 27 streams; about 200 feeds is typical, and one follows 3,057. If I can’t keep up with the mere two dozen or so people I follow (I’ve had to turn off the beeping notifications on TweetDeck to avoid distraction), I can’t even imagine what it must be like for someone to “follow” 3,000-plus people. How much attention she can possibly pay to any of my tweets is very small.

I’m reminded of an anonymous comment posted on a site I once visited regularly, and if I copied it correctly it went something like this: “The fact that the tools with which to make a rampaging asshole of yourself exist doesn’t mandate that you use them.” I’d add this: Broadcasting the ephemeral minutae of your life to anyone who’ll listen suggests a kind of neediness. These extremely prolific Tweeters must be expecting a return of some kind (or else they’re just manic narcissists). And perhaps their attention-grabbing does pay off, be it in good feelings or cash money. But I’ve a hard time imagining a scenario in which, unless their Tweets fulfill specific needs–by which I mean OTHER PEOPLE’S NEEDS, not their own–it will benefit them for long. Capitalism can only absorb so many self-promoters; instead it requires legions of other-directed people. Or so I’ve been thinking lately, underbaked as my musings on the subject are. To be continued.

*That’s Yogi Berra, sportsfans.

What a Bargain

I would be far more likely to take Staples up on their kind offer of $10 off (any in-store purchase of $40 or more) if the offer wasn’t mailed to my apartment on a thick, POST CARD-SIZED PIECE OF LAMINATED PLASTIC.

Coupons expire 5/4/09, but landfill-choking junk mail is forever.

Reader Mail

“When the Successories store at [the Mall of America] had their going-out-of business sale, I asked the clerk if he thought the affair more than a little ironic. He did not, nor did he find my question amusing.” —Randy, a fellow Mpls. South High alum

P.S. I used to live ten minutes away from the Mall of America. The first time I visited — with mom — we could not locate the exits. I once fainted in the Mall of America, and was revived with the help of Swedish Fish. Now I hear the MOA, as it’s known, is drawing European families who come to the U.S. for their back-to-school shopping. Wow. Just wow.

P.P.S. Check out the photo at the top of the Sough High link. It looks, as ever, like a correctional facility. Yay public schools!

The 9 Commandments of Highly Effective Reality-TV Contestants

Best quote from this Slate feature by Troy Patterson? “I’m like the love child of Fran Drescher and Ricky Ricardo.” But the article got me thinking — actually, it reminded me of a train of thought I’ve entertained before. Namely that someday soon, appearing on reality TV will be the means by which a significant portion of the American middle and lower classes pay their Costco bills. In exchange for not making a fuss about growing income disparities, the have-nots can trade their personal dignity for financial security! Entertainment is made along the way!

It’s a special kind of genius. I mean, Tila Tequila has already used reality TV as an upward-mobility rocket-booster, and maybe I’ve done too much reading on the subject, but now, every time I see her show promoed, Horatio Alger comes to mind. (He was also short. And often described as “elfin.”)

PS. HTBU has a chapter that’s basically about me watching Season 1 of The Apprentice, and trying — hard — to say something nice about Donald Trump. I think I succeeded.

how time flies

“I know there are today one-thousand college graduates — some of them having graduated with honor at German universities — who are walking the stony streets of this New York, and know not how to earn a living… As a preparation for professional life — I should rather say, for certain pursuits in life — it may be very well: but when I see, as I do see, so many men whose education has cost so much, find themselves totally unable, with all that, to earn a living; not immoral men, nor drinking men, but men, simply, who cannot find places adapted to their capacities: when I see this, I am moved to protest against a system of education which seems to me so narrow and so partial.”

— Newspaperman Horace Greeley, speaking at Cooper Union to the students of Packards Bryant & Stratton business college in November 1867. I could relate, save for the “German universities” and “nor drinking men” parts.