I’ve started doing something to people that is probably a little unfair.
I let them talk.
For nearly twenty minutes, one person gets to tell us about themselves.
What they do. What they’re building. What matters to them. How they got here. Where they’re going.
Then I ask everybody else what they heard.
Sometimes it’s a little like a game of telephone. What comes back isn’t quite what went out.
The person speaking knows what they meant.
They know which sentence mattered.
They know why the story from twelve years ago was relevant.
They know that the thing they mentioned briefly seven minutes in is actually the centerpiece of the whole operation.
They know how the book connects to the business, how the business connects to the mission, and why the new thing they’re building is the logical result of everything that came before it.
The rest of us were not issued the answer key.
So we heard something else.
Welcome to First Contact Live.
I started doing these sessions because I wanted to see what actually happens when somebody encounters another person and their work for the first time, before familiarity fills in the gaps and everyone learns enough of the language to understand what the person meant.
First contact.
Someone talks. The rest of us listen.
Then we find out what made it across.
Recently, someone came into the room who had written a book.
She talked about it, the experiences that led to it, and the work she does every day.
Later, I asked one of the people in the room what he had taken away.
He remembered her day job.
The book?
Not really.
And he had been paying attention.
That was the useful part.
This wasn’t a distracted guy scrolling LinkedIn while pretending to listen. He was engaged in the conversation.
The information had been delivered.
It just hadn’t survived.
In another session, somebody described a substantial body of work she had developed around social connection and loneliness.
There was research behind it. Thought leadership. A real problem she cared deeply about solving.
One of the people listening eventually said, essentially:
“I love the thinking.
I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
That’s a very different problem from nobody paying attention.
Everybody was paying attention.
Which is why I’ve become increasingly interested in one question:
What did you hear?
Compare that with:
“Does that make sense?”
That question is almost useless.
Of course it makes sense.
I’ve been listening to you for fifteen minutes. I’m a reasonably functioning adult. I can follow along.
And if I can’t, I’m probably still going to say yes because neither of us wants to spend the next twenty minutes finding out exactly where you lost me.
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
Terrific.
Two professionals successfully avoided an awkward moment.
“What did you hear?” is different.
Now I have to give it back to you.
And you may discover that the thing you thought was obvious never arrived.
Maybe something you considered supporting information became the main event. I understood the mission but not the business. I understood the business but not why you’re the person doing it. Or I can explain every individual piece and still have no idea why they belong together.
That happens a lot.
Especially with accomplished people.
The longer you’ve been doing something, the more context you carry around with you.
You’ve lived through the decisions.
You remember why the offer changed.
You know why the strange little side project is actually central to where everything is going.
You understand that when you say transformation, you mean something extremely specific.
I hear transformation.
Good word.
Lots of syllables.
Could be anything.
This is what I’m listening for in First Contact Live.
Somewhere between what you intended to communicate and what another intelligent human being carries away is information.
Sometimes the gap is small. The important thing came too late. A word is doing too much work. The pieces are all there, but nobody knows which piece is the picture on the box.
Sometimes the gap is bigger.
Either way, I don’t think clarity is measured by how well you can explain yourself.
You might be fantastic at explaining yourself.
The question is what somebody else can explain after you’re done.
Because that’s what goes into the world without you.
That’s what the prospect tells her business partner.
That’s what the podcast listener remembers three days later.
That’s what somebody says when a friend asks:
“What does she do?”
And nobody calls you in to fix their answer.
So try it.
Explain what you’re building to somebody intelligent who doesn’t live inside it.
Don’t give them the elevator pitch.
Talk normally.
Then resist the urge to ask:
“Does that make sense?”
Ask:
“What did you hear?”
And shut up.
You may love the answer.
You may hate the answer.
You may discover that the thing you thought was the centerpiece disappeared completely.
Good.
Now you know.
That’s first contact.
And you were going to have one eventually.
Might as well be there when it happens.
First Contact Live is a small live room where we do exactly this. One person brings what they’re trying to figure out. We see what lands, what doesn’t, and what becomes visible once other people are in the conversation. We welcome you to join us for the next one.