Size doesn’t matter

Statistically speaking, you’ll not always be right.

The amount of money involved in the decision has absolutely no mathematical bearing of the probability of you being correct.

Yet, it will have a direct and absolute correlation with your ability to accept your mistake.

And that, in three sentences we unveil perhaps the greatest folly of business and in turn, HR.

I’ve observed this over the years that I’ve been in corporate life, the larger the stakes, the lower the propensity to accept the reality of failure.

Like a punch drunk gambler at the casino table of life we pour good money after bad to assuage the egos of those that set us upon this path.

I wrote last year about the changes in technology that allow us to approach investment discussions in a different way. Since then I’ve seen a number of conversations with the likes of Undercurrent and Josh Bersin about the need to approach business cases like a start-up.

Low barriers to entry. Short cycles. Fast failure.

Yet the argument, whilst unassailable in its logic, still falls on deaf ears. Because of the simple fact that corporate life is predominantly male.

And men value size, not satisfaction.

Where are the bragging rights in showing off a small, low-cost, pilot project, when we can talk about multi million pound investments with gargantuan Powerpoint presentations that suggest the future value of something but with no empirical evidence, whatsoever, to support.

It isn’t the efficiency of your car, it’s the size of the engine. It isn’t the quality of the meal, but the price of the bill.

In business, we still determine value and importance by volume. We pride ourselves on the investment more readily than the return.

Until we can change our perspective of success from that of the old corporate norms, until we can challenge the way in which we judge efficacy and performance within our (predominantly traditional) businesses, we will not be able to face up to the new economic realities and we will show ourselves as wanting, as vulnerable to the faster more agile, less egotistical organisations entering in to our markets.

We need to redefine success criteria within our businesses in order to survive. But that starts with redefining the value that we put on our own corporate careers.

Let’s build a legacy that ensures future recognition, rather than build a monument to ourselves.

Delivery from evil

I don’t pretend to be an expert presenter. I’ve been lucky enough to have the chance to speak across the world, but that doesn’t make me good. Fortunately I have friends like Laurie Ruettimann who take the time to feedback after they watch me speak and tell me how to be less of an arse (“Morrison, stop moving about so much”).

But having taken the stage and watched my fair share of presenters, there are a number of key crimes that I see coming up time and time again.

The overrun – When Dale Arden told Flash she loved him, “but we only have 14 hours to save the earth. She meant it. When Warhol said, “in the future everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes”, he wasn’t messing around. The thing is, whilst the content you have is probably worth twice the slot you’ve been given, that’s the slot you’ve been given and if you can’t tell your story in the allocated time, you’ve not prepared hard enough.

The sh*t slide – “Now I know this one isn’t easy to see”. So, pray tell, why did you include it in the pack? I can’t tell you how frustrating I find it when people drop in a slide that has so much detail that you can’t read a thing. It’s lazy, it’s probably taken from a work deck that was printed out as a handout. Essentially the speaker is telling you that they can’t be bothered. Which is nice.

The slow death – Nobody makes you get up and present. At least not once you leave school. So you’ve either volunteered or you’ve been paid. In which case put a bit of feeling in it. Nobody wants to make love to a corpse and your delivery has to show that. Give some energy, some swagger, some enjoyment and some passion. And if you can’t muster it, don’t get on stage. It’s as simple as that.

The off topic – “When I see a bird that walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, I call that bird a duck”. The wise words of James Whitcomb Riley. And when I see a session called, “The connection between gastric bands and performance in HR” I expect the same. Don’t call your sessions something sexy and then deliver something akin to a nuzzling up with a cardigan wearing librarian. It just isn’t right.

The lone wolf – So you’ve spoken, you’ve done your thing. That’s the gig. What about the other speakers out there? The people that are also putting out for the collective appreciation. Especially if you’re on social media, go help a friend. That’s the least you can do. Doing your thing and heading off? Well it just makes you look like a bit of an attention seeking prat.

I know I missed some, but these are just my bugbears. And coming from guy who was rated “smug” by one attendee at his last conference, who am I to talk?