Endless Knots

Taking verbatim notes

This one is another in the occasional series on the nuts-and-bolts of life as a consultant/writer.

I do a lot of interviews, by which I mean a LOT. Whether giving a speech, prepping a workshop, or doing a straightahead consulting or writing project, I always ask to speak to people in the client organization. By which I mean always.

Such is the case with something I'm working on now, a project that includes a couple of dozen interviews, which really is a LOT. It is very time-consuming to take notes by hand in a situation like this - and you lose the benefit of accurately recording the great quotes people come up with in the course of conversation.

Which brings me to my method for taking verbatim notes, which I'm guessing a lot of other writers/consultants use but just in case you don't...here goes. Oh, this works for phone interviews but less so face-to-face. While I have done it in person, I think it's a bit rude to be staring at the screen when you could be enjoying the benefit of proximity.

1. Open your fave word processing program and choose Autocorrect from Tools menu. NB: Use Word or Open Office (sorry, Apple, Pages seems not to have the option required for this method).

2. In Tools>Autocorrect, enter abbreviations for the words you're most likely to hear your interviewees say. Example: current project is in healthcare. I enter "hc" for healthcare; dr for doctor; emr for electronic medical record; clbrt for collaborate, etc. The easiest way to create your own shorthand is by drpng vwls. Got it?

3. Make a template of the questions you're going to ask everyone.

4. Copy that into a new doc for each interview.

5. Put on a headset. Forget tucking the phone on your shoulder. You'll wind up with "writer's neck," a malady for which there is no known remedy short of yoga (but then again, if you're a writer, you have to do yoga -- it's a job requirement to avoid physical therapy).

6. "Dial" (why do we keep saying dial?) the number and conduct the interview.

7. As soon as possible after the interview, go back through the notes to add articles (a, the), correct your typos (legion in my case), insert line returns for paragraphs, and highlight juicy quotes.

8. Presto, change-o, you've got verbatim notes.

One more NB: You have to pay complete attention to what the person is saying. The slightest wandering mind will throw you off and suddenly you're saying, "Could you please repeat that?" Nt gd. And it's absolutely OK to say to the interviewee: "Hang on while I get this down accurately." No one objects to being quoted accurately...unless, of course, they weren't paying attention to what they were saying.

 

 

 

 

Foucault via John Hancock

Posting picture big to convey how it feels to stand by it

This jacket belonged John Hancock (as in, see sig), the first governor of Massachusetts. His home, the Old State House, is in the heart of old Boston, about a stone's throw from Fanueil Hall.

We had dinner there as a prelude to a conference** a few weeks ago. Before dinner, there were drinks and hors d's in the room where this jacket is englassed. It was noisy so people took refuge in the corners to talk. Soon we were in converation with an insurance industry lobbyist who, it turned out, had been up until 3 am with his twin boys, and whose family has had a lot of cancer. We exchanged many stories rapidly and when it was time to go into dinner, Justin commented on our talk: "Discourse produces meaning," not his words, he clarified, but those of French philosopher Foucault.

He amplified in a further note: "I think I apply it a little differently than Foucault, but my interpretation is that honest, empathetic discussion benefits us all.  Not only in increasing what we know about the world, but also in terms of developing understanding for what someone else is going through.  Something tells me that the world needs more, not less of this."

**Post on distinctions in virtual teams came from the interviews I did to prep for this conference.

How many multi-tasking on conference calls? 100%

I've recently done a project for a company that is highly dependent on conference calls. You know the type - people spread out across many hundreds and thousands of miles, rarely get together, have to work together...let me see, I think they've got that virus called, uh, VIRTUAL TEAMS!

As is my wont, I asked to interview some of the patients suffering from the virus to better understand their symptoms. Nearly all mentioned a similar complaint: super-long conference calls, as in two hours or more. Oh, my aching everything!

My follow-up to this question is always the same (this is what they teach you in Virtual Team Medical School): are you also looking at the same screen during these calls?

When patients say that they're not, i.e. they only have the conference call to hold their attention, my textbook instructs me to ask the following question: how many on the call would you estimate are multi-tasking?

100% said 100%.

And we know that multi-tasking means partial attention, which I fully admit I am guilty of most of the time myself.

So, what to do?

1. Make the calls shorter. And shorter. And shorter. One senior exec whom I love for his discipline in this got his calls down to 15 minutes. And he's very senior. Stars on his shoulder and all that.

2. Please, please, please listen to the "medical" experts, those who've treated thousands like yourselves: Always use some form of screen sharing during your calls so that everyone can focus on what you're talking about. Imagine that you're in a conference room together and everyone has their backs to one another and is looking out the window in different directions. How much attention are you paying to what's being discussed? Looking at the same object is a powerful way to focus attention.

3. Close your email while you're on your calls. Close it. Click it shut. And for those of you reading this post during your call, your browser too.

The life of the indie consultant - 2 (ouch, collections)

Another in the irregular series (if you can say two constitutes same...), this prompted by so many people finding themselves with the title "consultant" without necessarily having chosen the profession. No need to elaborate on why, do I?

This post is about one truly unglamorous aspect of consulting: billing.

Herewith, a few things I've learned.

1. Some companies are wonderful when it comes to paying. The magic words go something like this: "Just send me the invoice." Chief among them was the firm for which Jeff and I did a three-month project. We sent an invoice; they paid it. No discussion of fees, no whining about budgets. Maybe a week passed before they paid, sometimes several weeks. Heaven for small firms for whom cash flow is oxygen.

2. Having said that, I must also note: The same firm has a European branch that doesn't do business with American firms. Call it discrimination but alas...to do business there, we had to form a European firm. Not kidding. Expensive, time consuming, and all the other things you can imagine, including currency exchange, which, by the way, has swung back to the dollar's favor.

3. Every company has its own rules for paying. Some are more arcane than others, viz. Digital Equipment Corporation (and the only firm I'm mentioning by name since they're out of business, no connection, I'm certain :) to which we submitted, I'm guessing, dozens of invoices over an eight-year period. Being paid by DEC was its own specialty. After I mapped the 19-step flow chart of signatures, invoice rejections, and just-plain-stopped-in-the-water moments, I started to receive calls from other consultants seeking advice on how to be paid.

4. Some companies will negotiate their rules. It's always worth asking, even if you fear annoying the actual client. The trick here is to not mention it to the actual client. Go directly to the Accounts Payable department. And, if you're polite, you might get somewhere. Obvious hint: ask for the shortest terms possible. The bigger the company, the harder this may be to do but of course the bigger the company, the smaller your tiny invoice (comparatively speaking) is anyway. Even a multi-hundred-thousand name-your-currency invoice is not going to break a multi-billion dinero firm. What looks big to you is not what the big consulting firms charge anyway and probably not as big as the bill of the cleaning company. Terms you're looking for: "On Receipt" is the very best, and very difficult to get. Net 10 is more likely. Net 30 is more typical. Do everything you can to resist Net 45.

5. When a rule seems unfair even after negotiating, continue to discuss it. Case in point: I'm waiting on an expense reimbursement for something I did a couple of months ago. Expenses, got it? Agreed to do the gig for the publicity value (believe me, you'll do lots of these over the years). I've already described the bit about the company refusing to pay without my providing my home address. Still no check after that got sorted, so following perhaps eight volleys of emails, I wrote again. Brief reply: 45 days. Got it? Expense reimbursement. No contract, a just-send-me-the-receipts thing. And truly small change. So we're back to the email volley. The person relaying the rules is on my side. We'll see what happens.

6. Arrange for a deposit to be paid when the work begins, with regular payments along the way when milestones are met. Mind you, the deposit may not come until long after the "net" period earns out but it's better than waiting for the first milestone, then billing, which gives you Net 60 or more.

7. This is so obvious it shouldn't have to be said but here it is: issue your invoices in a timely manner. You can't hold your client responsible if you forget or are resistant to billing. Your fault. Grow up and send the bill.

8. Finally, issue invoices with interest penalties when payments are late. Most big companies won't pay them but the threat seems to help. We've had very large firms call and ask us to forgive the interest because there was some kind of problem in their "system."

Which reminds me...you'd be surprised at how many problems big companies have with their systems. Recently, and repeatedly, we've been told that companies are installing new systems and that, unfortunately, our payment will be made in the following month, or, they're terribly sorry, perhaps even the month after that. I know they're sorry but not as sorry as me.

I'm done. And I'm still waiting for the reimbursement.

The life of the indie consultant - long post

When I launched this blog, I promised to talk about the career Jeff and I have chosen, one that others, particularly those just starting out, sometimes lust after. Freedom, independence, travel - and the biggest of the biggies - working with a wide array of very interesting, very smart, and exceedingly kind people in various sectors. All true.

Before going on to my rant (it's coming), let me recount some of the more fascinating assignments: a 14-day, 5-Asian-country "mission," as they call them, for the UN Development Programme; a three-month, day-in and day-out gig working with a "strategic initiative" for a firm that saw itself becoming part of a "networked community;" several journeys to the Swedish countryside to educate executives on virtual working; a speaking tour across Japan accompanied by an entourage; and a nearly year-long stint setting up the first global software organization for the computer company that makes my favorite products. I get that wonderful swirl in my tummy whenever I think of these experiences, remembering conversations, meals, and the warmth of connection, i.e., I've made many close friends around the world.

But, independent consulting also brings difficulties: no predictable income, promises from clients that never prove out, and, inevitably, working with uninteresting, not evidently brilliant, and perhaps unkind and rude--or at least thoughtless--people.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Lisa Kimball, who's been traveling this same path for many years (sometimes even with the same clients), sent me a link to a post that speaks to the last part of the previous sentence: How to identify the three types of flaky clients. I read it, winced, and filed it, deciding not to post about it as it would only make people feel bad. You have to swallow a lot in this kind of business, not the least of which is the kind of flakiness described in the post. What are the three? "Wet," meaning they stick around but melt before leaving any accumulation of income; "tiny," the type that string you along with small, empty promises, meeting to meeting, but never produce a contract; and "icy," who are, in two words, downright mean. Which brings me to this post.

Client flakiness can be unnerving and disappointing and a real hit to the bottom line. But what really irks me are the people who act as if because they are "the client"--which, often, they are not, i.e., only a potential client--they are entitled to behave in ways they never would with people they actually work with. Sorta like the way anonymous posters behave online saying things they would never say to your face. Know the type?

Not so long ago, we attended a meeting with a group of very high-powered business people. The kind with multiple degrees, stellar resumes, heads of this and that unbelievably important thing. Extremely clever with words. Highly polished. In other words, very very very smart. We hadn't asked for the meeting. Rather, a colleague, a truly wonderful woman who fits all of the previous descriptions - brilliant, innovative, multiple degrees, extremely learned, etc. - introduced us to the CEO of her company, who has an urgent need for what we do. We had an electric meeting, said CEO becoming so enthusiastic about our work in collaboration - a big challenge for his company with its many locations and many partners - that he quickly arranged a meeting with his senior people.

Now, before I go into detail, let's review my considerable bad here: I did not properly vet the meeting. I should have had another call with the CEO to confirm its purpose, why he'd invited the people he had, how to engage them, and what report, if any, he wanted back. Instead, I accepted the meeting while standing in the blazing sun running through a dozen messages during a break at a very important day-long meeting. In short, *I* was not thoughtful, intelligent, or considerate.

On we go: Having attended roughly 10 million such meetings, I'm always prepared for the unwilling attendee. Most times these people remain quiet, more recently with arms extended below conference-table-level as if you can't see that they're actually reading their mail on their Blackberrys (in olden times--say, three years ago--they pretended to be taking notes while actually they were making lists).

The meeting in question was no exception. Several arms stretched below table level from the get-go but we soldiered on ignoring their ignoring us. Occasionally one of them would raise their eyes to correct something I had said (can't remember them correcting Jeff, actually, probably cuz he's smarter than moi). Every now and then it appeared that one of them was actually paying attention because the question related to what we'd said. If you've ever presented at a meeting that others didn't want to attend, you know how this feels.

Then came the corker, the remark that has festered, the moment that typified the experience: I was explaining a technicality (normally, we try to avoid technicalities but, as I said, an attendee had just gone out of his way to tell me I was using the wrong word) when a young man (at least I think he was young - you can't really tell anymore) stopped me: "You've got seven minutes to show me your thing," he said. (Get your minds out of the gutter, readers. He was referring to software we've developed.)

I feel compelled to reiterate that the theme of the meeting was collaboration. Means working together. Usually is suggestive of being polite, cooperative, that sort of thing.

I'll leave that in a paragraph of its own just so you can ponder it.

Well, when I was younger, I probably would have gotten flustered at this, tried to accommodate him, apologize, in other words, accept that this was in any way a legitimate thing to say to someone who's gone out of their way to share their best thinking with you, given up their valuable time (yes, the consultant's time has value too), and chosen to pollute the environment with their non-hybrid vehicle. But, coupled with the person who literally was doing his mail on the table, the one who'd corrected me, and the person who began the meeting by announcing that he was leaving, I said, in short, "No."

Every thing you'll ever be taught about business consulting is that you never contradict the client. You always find a way to make that person feel that what they're saying is appropriate, if not fascinating, revealing, extraordinary. But, this was just rude. No, I wouldn't show him my "thing" in seven minutes. We'd continue our discussion at our own pace. Had I been alone, I honestly believe I would have left.

Because that too is what this kind of career gives you. The freedom to walk out, fire a client, even a potential one.

Rant over.