Talking the Talk

I presented to the Victorian Cognos User Group recently. That was fun, I hadn’t done a presentation to room full of strangers since my consulting days. I was followed by a BearingPoint guy showing off the fan-freekin-tastic ‘Google in a box’ enterprise search engine then a Cognos consultant previewing some new stuff so I had to be on the ball.

My first job out of school was at Harris Scarfe in Rundle Mall, Adelaide. For me saying ‘not a fan of school’ is like a vampire saying ‘not a fan of sunlight’; it was moi-da. I was doing my final year, hatin’ life, until just before the end of first term Dad relented by setting me a challenge to get a full time job in the short school holidays to win my emancipation. I’m sure D.O.D (dear old Dad) didn’t think I would pull it off but was kind enough to fully prepare me for my plight by telling me at length, on numerous occasions, how hard it is for unskilled youths without even a high school diploma let alone university degree to get ahead in life. Mum was on board from the start (A because she has that ‘unwavering support for everything her kids do’ thing going on, but also because living with Mum on school days she had to endure the bulk of my sincere unhappiness. D.O.D got me on the weekend so he didn’t wear the brunt but upon realising my unyielding commitment to getting out school he too got right on board. The great irony is that the privileged, old boy, blazer, pipe and a good port, rar–rar–rar thing I so deeply resented was solely responsible for getting me out. I jagged it because the HR Manager was an ‘old boy’ and the school put in a good word. They desperately wanted me out so I didn’t soil their precious university entry scores. I had mentally stopped school long before. For my year 11 final accounting exam I got 9% I think. One third of the exam was multiple choice and I ticked ‘a’ for all without reading the questions before leaving while most were still reading the instructions.

I swear dissent is genetic; I was probably contemptuous of the doctor that delivered me due his poncy title. ‘Doctor my arse I’ll call you Bob – champ.’ Even as a new born my intuition was right on; after whacking me on the arse in my first few seconds of life that sadist Bob came back and tried to cut my dick off a few days later. I was still recovering from the whole birth ordeal with my teeth all knocked out, stress causing alopecia, post traumatic stress disorder had me with the night terrors and I’d lost control of my bodily functions. There’s freekin’ Bob with the ‘letters in front his name’ that allow him to go my cock with a sharp instrument. I was 2 weeks old and already hated ‘the establishment’. To smart for Bob though, I got away with most of it. :-)

Over half my life later being an ‘old boy’ continues to have a few advantages when you least expect it but for me not enough to make worthy tolerating 4+ years of pompous twats; being a ‘current boy’ sucked. I can’t help but say there’s no Freudian slip in the preceding phrase despite the fact it was an Anglican boys school in the 1980’s :-) – yes you’ll need a shovel to get that low... Anyhoo, as Simon & Garfunkel said “My lack of education hasn’t hurt me none, I can read the writing on the walls.”

I started my short lived retail career in the Manchester Department, I know my crocheted doilies alright, but a combination of mutual dislike between myself and manager along with my youthful enthusiasm saw me ‘promoted’ to spruiker. The promotion was only in the social sense only as there was the “oh, I could never do that” factor. In hindsight it was probably then I learned the value of being seen within an organisation. If you’re standing at the bus stop and don’t hail the bus it won’t stop. You has gots-ta put you’re hand out and be noticed to gets yoself anywhere gerl-freen!

Even spruiking at Harris Scarfes has a pecking order. The basement entrance was poignantly the starting point; which held a dark significance. As a young fella who knew, so well I could have written a thesis on it, my lack of formal education would see me have to fight my way up from the ground floor; but the freekin basement!
After the basement the central ground floor point is the next stop in the dizzying career of a Harris Scarfe spruiker. That was the best place to be for mine as you were inside protected from the elements and it was the intersection for the escalators and lifts while also having the foot traffic between Grenfell St and Rundle Mall. Having the raging hormones of a 17 year old I feel no remorse in saying it was great place for a perve but it didn’t have the prestige of the Rundle Mall main enterance. Once there you had officially ‘made it’ in Harris Scarfe spruiking but with the melting heat of Adelaide summers and winter winds accelerating down the confines of the Mall, not to mention rain, I figured that wasn’t an important milestone in the grand plan for global domination (mwa ha ha). But that is the Harris Scarfe spruiking Mecca; from there the only place to go is freelance for the big bucks – Roger David, Zamels, Bunnings, K-Mart, game show voice overs, hosting the Oscar’s. That is the standard career trajectory according to the freelance spruikers I spoke to. :-)
I was soon swapped from the basement to the ground floor which suited us both as my colleague was happy to talk power tools in the basement all day, every day. I was happy because now I didn’t, and the ground floor had weekly specials so it was always changing. Plus the visually appeasing vantage point. I was occasionally backup for the ‘top job’ in case of illness and the like. T’wasn’t so bad as the make up and perfume counters are up front of the store, cause they smell nice and have pretty ‘Cosmetics Consultants’ so, there goes them hormones again, I didn’t mind going up there for a change. By the end the first day I had usually managed to have my inept advances rejected by the Lancome girl and the Max Factor girl leaving L’Oreal, Clinique and Estee Lauder girls for day 2 maybe stretching it to day 3 after which I was happy to get back to ‘ground floor - central’.
But I digress; the point is even though spruiking for some time every single morning getting those first words out was tough, full of self-consciousness no doubt exacerbated by those damn teenage hormones again. What is the good of those bloody horm...oh yeah :-)

It was just like that when giving the presentation, once I spat out the first coupe of sentences I got right into stride. I've been eating and breathing the subject matter for a couple of years now, did several timed rehearsals and created the presentation from scratch where cutting and pasting some stuff from internal pressys would have been easier. Preparation, people, preparation. There was a Simpsons reference for levity and the language had a business context with minimal 'geek-speak' so the beanies and Execs would understand (keep up) while throwing in a diagram or two for the techos.

I know it went well because all the Cognos folks made a point to tell me afterwards – yeah right. As another Cognos dude told me "What a great presentation..." I thinking what else would they say to me; the client’s representative? ‘Gee Davo thanks for your time and effort but you’re boring as bat shit and the presentation made no sense.’ I’m sure they were genuine because they are genuine, also others with no vested interest also complimented me and since had a number of requests for copies but it did have me wonder how they handle the inevitable woeful presentation.

Lucky for me half a lifetime ago I would spend my days tempting consumers to fill their kitchens with 5mm Copper based stainless steel cookery, warning them of the potential damage to furniture with hot tea pots on un-doilied tables, or even protecting their families in winter by offering flannelette sheet sets at 'amazing prices shoppers' so talking to strangers in a professional environment was second nature.

While the presentation had me reminiscing about Harris Scarfe I can assure you back then I never thought spruiking would be advantageous 18 years later while talking Corporate Performance Management at Fed Square in Melbourne.

Learn that at Uni!