wanting it enough?

I seem to be thinking a lot about unemployment at the moment.  Partly because some of the people I'm coaching are without a role at the moment, and partly because we're doing some building work.

We had some replies to our emailed tender today; I won't name the company but a couple of things struck me from their response in times when money is tight and new business is hard to find.

The first thing was that the company got my name wrong.  Call me old fashioned, but this is basic, basic stuff.  If can't get my name right on the first email you send to me, what else are you likely to get wrong? So nul points there.  I noted from the response that the sender's first language might not have been English, and some might say that I need to cut them some slack.

My response to this is - if you want to demonstrate how much my business means to you, then can you please check the spelling, the grammar, the details? After all, this is my first impression of you.  (I actually now don't even open mail which can't spell my name correctly, it simply goes in the recyling).

I look at the proposal they've sent me.  The words "bespoke" jump out at me from what looks like a standard response. I look more carefully through the details.  We've already spent a lot of money on plans, and developing a fairly detailed tender document - down to the number of power sockets we wanted in the new space.

Sadly, this contractor either forgot we'd asked for this number, or decided we couldn't possibly want that many, and replaced our specified number with his own in the quote.  In addition, instead of quoting for the type of insulation we'd requested, he ignored that too and said HIS company always used THIS type.... no other explanation.  He also told us we'd have to pay more for the drawing up of the plans - which we'd included in the pack.

Now I'm a reasonable woman, and frankly, building work is hardly my forte, but given that we'd already spent time with our lovely architect pulling the tender together, asked tenderers for the costs to be presented in a certain way, and approached this company to offer the work (so limited sales costs for this job!) - I'm a mite hacked off that they couldn't be bothered, at this early stage, to actually do what we asked.  Are we not the customer?

And in a tight market, where people have less money to spend and are looking more carefully at who they spend it with, is it not a good idea - presuming you want the business, of course - to build a relationship with the customer by treating them well and trying to respond to their every whim?  I mean, had we stipulated that all the work should be done in purple tutus,  deprived of their normal tea breaks, or completed within four weeks instead of a reasonable ten.... then perhaps such a response might be justified. But we did none of that, just put a tender together which said what we wanted.

Because we're reasonable people, I daresay we'll point out a few differences in what they'd offered and what we'd asked for.  But will they get the business?  The jury is still out, but it's not looking great.

The power of ducking and a thicker skin

I took part in a panel discussion at an event a few months ago.  Despite my advanced years, I was nervous. Indeed, despite my advanced years, I'd never done anything like this before.  The other panellists had written books, changed organisations, moved mountains (figuratively at least) and one belonged to a huge organisation with offices everywhere, consulting in far-flung places.

I was from a tiny consultancy, and had little but my academic background and a reasonable level of common sense to recommend me.  I couldn't claim years of global projects, but I did have a good understanding of almost ALL the theory behind the debate, and some critical interpretations of said theories.  Plus lots of feedback particularly from people in the public sector, to how the theory worked in practice.

I'd prepared, done some reading, honed my opinions and I bought a new dress.

The event went ok, I thought. I said some sensible things, some people agreed with me, some not.  My partner, who attended the event to support me, said I'd done well.

The session was videod and when it was released, I watched it, trying not to cringe. I saw when I didn't answer the question from the audience, when I got pompous and into the rhetoric, when I looked too earnest.  I also saw when I nailed my own personal views, saying them exactly as I wanted to, concisely and eloquently.  So - by no means a ten out of ten performance, but ok.  Maybe a seven.

As this was the first event of this type I'd been involved in, I anxiously waited for feedback and people wrote to me, saying they either agreed with or enjoyed my contribution.

Glowing in a muted kind of way, I assigned the experience to a box marked "worthwhile" and went on with life.

Some time later, I looked at a blog on the same topic. The comments that had been added to the blog mentioned the panel I'd been on.  To my dawning distress, there were a number of comments that effectively dismissed the event that I'd been on, suggesting it was over hyped and self indulgent.  To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was weirdly hurt too, by these people who didn't know me, knew nothing of the preparation or the nervousness.

I was taken aback by the snide comments and the almost personal asides. They weren't even aimed specifically at me - but as I'd participated, I felt a large level of responsibility for the feedback on the event and spent a pretty fruitless half hour wondering how I'd managed to add to the negative view of the event. I managed not to pore over the video again.

This happened a few weeks ago.  The very fact that I'm blogging about it now (and blogging about it at all!) probably says more about me than it does about the event, or the comments.  But the experience did remind me of a few salutary lessons.

1. Putting your head abover the parapet increases your chances of getting shot at.
2. Those who try new things may well be applauded - but there's always someone ready with a gripe
3. Those who are never criticised probably haven't done much. 

Of course, the million-dollar question is - would I do it again.  Answer: definitely.

And yet another question is - if people can misjudge you, your actions, and your motives (and you have good intent) - are you doing the same to others?  Answer: probably definitely.

Feedback, said a good friend of mine, is the breakfast of the Gods, a gift.  Occasionally, as with gifts, you may like to exchange it.  However, as with all gifts, the best way to receive them is with gracious thanks and a smile. 

So now, having said all this, I'm off to grow a thicker skin and delete the video.