"You Don’t Know What You’re Eff-ing Talking About, Do You!?!"

By Melanie Smart

These are the words that a senior manager at a certain aerospace multi-national screamed at me across the room as I delivered my presentation.

Needless to say, he didn’t actually say “Eff-ing” – clue: the real word rhymes with ducking. (My apologies to anyone offended by this)

But how did I get here? STOP. Rewind to one week earlier.

After presenting our software to academics and industry experts at a cost engineering seminar run by Cranfield University, Martin ran up to me and almost knocked me down. He blurted out: “I can’t believe it. That’s exactly what we’re looking for!”

I’d been speaking to Martin’s boss for a few months about their requirement for a complex enterprise costing system. With a confident smile, I replied: “Yes, I know Martin.”

The smile was soon wiped from my face when Martin dropped his bombshell – they were about to place an order for a trial 6-month project with a large competitor.

This was shattering. We hadn’t even been invited in to present our solution. Worse still, Martin informed me that all the paperwork was with procurement and they were giving our competitor the order next week!

The following day, I called and emailed Martin and his manager Pete constantly, begging them to give me an opportunity to present to them. Even if it was too late, I wanted that one chance.

It was all to no avail. When I spoke to Martin late Thursday afternoon, he said: “Sorry, I’ve tried everything, but Pete just won’t see you.”

I was devastated. But, lo and behold, the next morning something must have changed behind the scenes because Martin called me and said: “Pete says you can come in Monday morning.”

Breakthrough. I was jumping for joy – I had my chance! There was just one problem. I knew to make my presentation impactful – to make the most of this single shot – I needed several days of preparation. 

I could have gone with the Monday, but I knew that if I was going to reap any rewards, I needed more time to deliver the best presentation I possibly could. 

So, I brushed off that instinct so common to us Brits (the little voice which say it’s wrong to inconvenience anyone) and asked if we could do Tuesday, instead. I received a slightly begrudging affirmation, but as is turns out, I was right to be honest and upfront about the time I needed; those extra hours of preparation were invaluable.

The days passed in a flash and suddenly I was there, standing in a giant, oppressive meeting room. Butterflies flapped in my stomach – the air was heavy with the smell of old coffee.

I focused on holding my head up, as the technical people and engineers filed into the room, followed by Martin, and then…finally, by Pete himself. His presence had a tangible weight. As he walked in, the room fell silent – it was like somebody abruptly pulling the plug on a loud radio. 

I introduced myself – “Nice to see you again Pete” – to which he replied, stony-faced: “It’s Pet-er!”

Yikes! So that’s how it’s going to be. 

Everyone was in. Strangely, they had all lined up and sat on just one side of the huge conference table. With crossed arms and surly faces, I felt like a defendant facing the jury. After taking the time to go through individual introductions – carefully taking the trouble to listen to what everyone did (always know your audience) – I began my presentation.

It was when I got to the tricky-to-explain technical slide, for which I’d created a ‘bus route around a city’ analogy, that Peter uttered the line destined to become an unlikely title for a LinkedIn article nearly two decades later.

Folding his arms and leaning across the table, he shouted: “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE EFF-ING TALKING ABOUT DO YOU?!?!?”

Like naughty children, his staff stared down at their laps with confused, worried faces. Clearly, everyone was embarrassed, perhaps expecting a literal ‘death by PowerPoint’ -mine?!

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve provided the censored version of this particular quote. But it was more than just the cursing which shocked me, his entire tone seemed so unabashedly hateful – borderline vengeful.

I searched my mind, wondering if I had at some point unknowingly murdered his puppy. At least then I could have understood this response.

In truth, I was stunned. Not just because it was rude, but because I DID know what I was talking about.

I certainly like to think that I am a friendly person – but I’ve never been a pushover. My gut reaction was to turn on him, to tell him that had we taken a little trip down to the shop floor I‘d have been able to grind a drill or operate CAM software with the best of them.

But then it hit me. This reaction was one of frustration – not because I didn’t know what I was talking about, but because he didn’t understand what I was saying. That’s when I took a step back, went back to basics, and explained as clearly and succinctly as possible each of his key requirements and how my slide was addressing them. 

His mouth fell open. Ah. He was finally with me.

Wrapping up, I didn’t ask them to cancel their order with my competitor – merely postpone it. (After all, this was my opportunity to change the buying decision).

I wanted to prove we were worth the shot, that there was substance behind us. I suggested that they put us and our competitor in a room at their site, on different dates, but give us the same set of tasks to achieve within the same short time frame (say, two hours) – then compare the results and make the decision based on that.

My competitor was a huge, capable multi-national company, with all the resources to go with it, but their solution had very little base functionality. They relied on customising it to suit each implementation and I knew that in a head-to-head challenge, with the same amount of time, we’d beat them hands down.

Well, we won. First the ￡25k pilot. Six months later, we received an order for ￡400k, then ￡200k from the German site…like daffodils blooming in the springtime, the orders just kept coming. Not bad for a one person company, operating from a kitchen table at home.

Listening well, being honest and empathising with people (even difficult individuals), won’t solve every situation. But I can say that, more often than not, it has worked for me. In fact, most times I’ve come away with more opportunities than I started out with. 

If you’d told me in that moment, under the burning gaze of Peter’s wrath, that we would have gone onto have a fantastic working relationship – I wouldn’t have believed you.

But then that’s the power of communication. Soon after, he insisted I start calling him Pete. 

Now, I want to know what you guys think.

How would you have reacted? ?How have you used empathy, honesty and communication to turn a situation around? What successes have you had – and what situations do you wish you’d handled differently?

Drop your responses in the comments below.