Last night I did a one hour presentation. At the end, I was introduced to a young man who had been in the audience. The gentleman who introduced him told me what the young man liked best about the presentation: my suit.
Not my content. Not my delivery. Not my jokes. My suit.
I didn’t know if I should take this as a compliment or an insult. Didn’t he like what I said? After all, he was there for information, not a floor show.
Granted, it was a nice suit and I was wearing a very spiffy red tie, but what about what I said? Did I. . . blow it?
Not at all. He was persuaded by what I said and wanted to take the next step. He just liked my suit.
I thought about this and realized that while content is important, it’s not the only thing you have to get right in a presentation. People look at your appearance. They notice the lighting and sound quality, the music, even the coffee. All of the little things are important and you have to get them right.
A month from now, if this young man thinks about last night he’ll probably remember my suit. Not my name or anything I said. My suit and my snazzy tie. That’s the image he’ll remember. Someone else might remember a song they liked, the hostess’ smile, or a story I told that evoked a pleasant memory.
People rarely remember what you said. And that’s okay. What you say isn’t the most important part of the presentation. The most important part of a presentation, what people remember long after it’s done, is not what you said, it’s how they felt when you were saying it.
When you give your next presentation, whatever the objective–a verdict, a new client, or a response that says “tell me more”–don’t rely solely on your content, however logical and persuasive it might be. You have to get all the little things right, too. Do what you can to make people feel good about you, about what you’re saying, and especially, about themselves. Use humor if you can. Tell stories. Make sure the coffee is good. And wear a nice suit.
The Attorney Marketing Formula really works. More clients, more income. Hey, it’s a formula.
