In the traditions of keeping informed about our industry, my hot shot team attended a breakfast with a presentation by one of our competitors.  She was supplying hints for dealing with the now six-month old ‘new’ Australian government.  It was a neat presentation with a confident speaker.  What was reassuring is that my young crew  were rather thrilled that there was nothing new for them in the information.  “And she is a director,” the said, indicating they were pretty chuffed they knew as much.

Well, they do.  I am proud to boast that.  They get real results.

What the presenter was telling the breakfast crowd was that advocating your client’s story to the government – or any audience, really -  is all about staying on message and being creative in the process.   We don’t mean bells and whistles, creative.  We mean thinking innovatively about resolving complex, weighty and often expensive issues that are always enmeshed in intricate regulation and politics.  (The politics of behaviour as well as party politics, that is.)

My team were feeling particularly emboldened this morning.  As well they should.  Yesterday we were successful in what looked a week ago to be achieving the impossible for a client; getting his product back on the shelf. The team had stayed on message, and been extremely creative covering all bases in order to get the message across.

 
I won’t go into  detail for obvious reasons of confidentiality.  However, when I tell you that the client – a tough and experienced businessman who has spent his life in the manufacturing business – was in tears at the result, you will understand what a boost we get in being able to do our bit for real problems. These are bread and butter problems, the problems that stop factories from running, make paying mortgages difficult and keep people awake all night worrying about survival.

Our client is an emotional man.  He is a decent person who in the past few months has continually reminded me of the effect this issue has had on his staff and wholesalers.  He genuinely feels for them.  It can be draining to hear their stories, as well it should.  The stakes are high.  They are real personal stories of workers who are part of my client’s  ‘family’.  I haven’t met them but I know the names of staff who have serious illnesses, some are recovering from cancer treatment, others have childcare issues.  I know this because my client speaks of them passionately during our strategy updates.  As the speaker this morning would remind us, he kept on message.  It wasn’t a ploy or a strategy developed for him by my hot team.  It is what matters most to him, and in turn, to us.  I don’t think it made my team work harder for this client, they do that anyway.  And I would be concerned if we professionals became too emotional, for risk that our judgment and advice became clouded. What it did though, was keep the endgame in sight a little more vividly.  We knew what his central issue was.  He didn't want scalps and he didn't want to go down the legal path, all of which might well have been open to him.  He wanted to keep his workers in their jobs and get his product back in supermarkets.  And that was why he looked a mess when he turned up to my office for a bit of a  chat before our meeting with  the  government yesterday; he hadn't slept a moment.

He shed tears in the meeting with senior government bureaucrats and ministerial advisers as he told his story.  He talked gently of the frustrations involved and  I watched as hardened critters who turn the wheels of government listened to these genuine stories.  I can tell you that they were moved much more than they had been during my chats with them.  I don’t think it influenced their decision, but it certainly brought home to them the reality of the judgments they make.