Two strings walk into a bar…
As part of its “long-term investment” in management, The Company sends them to an off-site “Executive Club” one day a month where they have power lunches and share ideas and have a day free from action item generating meetings. Executive Club is also teeming with consultants hoping to drum up business. Occasionally, a consultant sings the siren song, conveying its unqualified ideas on how to run our business better.
The symptom manifests itself in the form of one of the managers returning from his or her monthly meeting extremely pumped up, convinced that “If We Just… whatevered“, everything would be swell and unicorns would dance upon fairy dust rainbows with their little pony friends. Whatever might be: “manufactured toilet seat covers in bold colors. Pepto Bismol-pink! Key Lime! Corinthian Leather backed faux zebra skin stippled with rhinestones!” As with the flu, the onset is random. Some symptoms can be mitigated, but the disease must its course.
So… we have an annual user meeting that Cliff always attends and speaks at. The marketroids know Cliff is a loose cannon when it comes to speaking, so when they say “one minute introduction,” they plan for a five minute rambling “thank you for your continued support.” Cliff’s vernacular is that of the construction foremen, so it has its charms. As Douglas Adams would say, this is “Mostly Harmless.” Usually.
Unknown to anyone, Cliff was infected by the Executive Consultant Flu shortly before the conference. This variety was different: instead of bold ideas of venturing into the wide open market of vibrating cushy covers playing Freebird — something that could be “taken off line” until someone had a nap and the idea went away — the consultant was “helping with” Cliff’s presentation skills. The annual user’s meeting would be the first opportunity for Cliff to practice.
The marketing folks did a great job of drawing in hundreds of people. Cliff was to spend one Cliff Minute (five calendar minutes) introducing himself before turning the microphone over to the VP of sales, Darcy, who oozes woo.
Cliff announced he was going to do a Top Five List. In the back, where I stood, was a chorus of “Oh, shit“s. Marketers turned a shade of greenish white as Cliff went on for twenty minutes because Cliff is Not Funny. What made this worse was his employing the consultant’s recommendation of interjecting long, deliberate pauses for dramatic effect. The consultant didn’t convert to Cliff Minutes. Darcy was unable to dig herself out of the hole and bring the audience’s attention back.
The virus ran its course. Cliff is no longer channeling Andy Kaufman.
