Very often, someone will post a helpful suggestion on their blog for improving the quality of our CLE programs. Needless to say, this is not going to be one of those posts. Besides, even if I knew something about giving a quality CLE program, the real challenge would still remain: How to get your volunteer speakers to incorporate the idea into their presentations?
That's why I'm happy to report that I've discovered a solution to our root problem -- motivating volunteer speakers to go that extra mile. And while I'd like to take full credit for this solution, my integrity (and the fact that the true originator of this idea may read my blog) won't allow me to do so. However, since I didn't clear this e-mail with her (nor have I received her approval for my latest ... and outrageous ... expense report), she shall remain nameless. However, let's just say that she is a well-respected CLE professional whom we all know and love and whose name sounds something like "Hina Tughes."
Let me explain: Last week, I gave a full-day seminar for the "fictional" Ms. Tughes in Charlotte. The morning session was well-received and I went to lunch with that mixture of self-satisfaction and pride that explains why my wife relishes my frequent absences from home.
Before resuming the afternoon session, I smugly asked Ms. Tughes, "How are we doing?"
She replied, "Oh, great! And by the way, I just heard from my staff that Stuart Teicher brought the house down in Cary. His reviews are off the charts! People are saying they've never seen anything like it."
"Never seen anything like it? But I was there last year! Are they saying that he's (gulp) better than me?", I thought to myself while pretending to be happy about the "good news".
Now, don't get me wrong. I normally beam with pride when I hear glowing reports about Stuart's seminars. For one, he's like the little brother that I never wanted (I enjoyed having my own room as a child). Second, for the last three years, I've falsely claimed sole credit for his success. "Yes, he's good now, but you should have seen him before I discovered him. He was a mess!"
And while I've always known that Stuart would one day shatter my delusions of grandeur, last Wednesday wasn't going to be that day. As Hina introduced me to the afternoon crowd, I resolved that I was going to give them the CLE program of their lives. My goal was for at least one attendee to comment that the seminar was better than sex (or at least, better than Stuart's). And for the next three hours, I didn't just teach legal ethics, I preached it ... and with the fervor of Billy Graham, T.D. Jakes and that homeless guy outside of your local Starbucks ... combined. At one point, I had the audience shouting "Hallelujah!", "Amen!" and passing around a collection plate. By the end of the session, I was physically drained but I left the building with the knowledge that I had given my absolute best (and with $9.68 in "love offerings").
And let's be clear: I don't think that Ms. Tughes was trying to manipulate me by falsely inflating Stuart's morning evaluations; although I hereby request certified copies of such evaluations just to be sure. In all likelihood, Hina probably assumed that I possessed the magnanimity and maturity that would allow me to revel in a friend's success. Well, her "naivety" might just point the way for the rest of us to motivate our volunteer speakers by hitting them where it really hurts -- in the ego.
By nature, speakers are competitive and ego-driven; and so are lawyers. After all, many of them work in law firms that are the embodiment of Darwin's "survival of the id-est." Their egos are precious commodities that they will go to any length to maintain. In fact, I'm convinced that the following phone call would work wonders with a volunteer:
"Hello, Mr. Smith, I'm so glad you agreed to speak at our upcoming IP summit. I really expect your presentation to be well-received because last year, we had [your local nemesis] and the audience absolutely loved her. Now, don't worry. No one is expecting [the things a good presenter does] in your talk. After all, she is a partner at [the most prestigious law firm in town], so no one is expecting the same level of excellence from you. That being said, I'm sure the audience will appreciate whatever you can do to [repeat the things a good speaker does]."
That's why I'm happy to report that I've discovered a solution to our root problem -- motivating volunteer speakers to go that extra mile. And while I'd like to take full credit for this solution, my integrity (and the fact that the true originator of this idea may read my blog) won't allow me to do so. However, since I didn't clear this e-mail with her (nor have I received her approval for my latest ... and outrageous ... expense report), she shall remain nameless. However, let's just say that she is a well-respected CLE professional whom we all know and love and whose name sounds something like "Hina Tughes."
Let me explain: Last week, I gave a full-day seminar for the "fictional" Ms. Tughes in Charlotte. The morning session was well-received and I went to lunch with that mixture of self-satisfaction and pride that explains why my wife relishes my frequent absences from home.
Before resuming the afternoon session, I smugly asked Ms. Tughes, "How are we doing?"
She replied, "Oh, great! And by the way, I just heard from my staff that Stuart Teicher brought the house down in Cary. His reviews are off the charts! People are saying they've never seen anything like it."
"Never seen anything like it? But I was there last year! Are they saying that he's (gulp) better than me?", I thought to myself while pretending to be happy about the "good news".
Now, don't get me wrong. I normally beam with pride when I hear glowing reports about Stuart's seminars. For one, he's like the little brother that I never wanted (I enjoyed having my own room as a child). Second, for the last three years, I've falsely claimed sole credit for his success. "Yes, he's good now, but you should have seen him before I discovered him. He was a mess!"
And while I've always known that Stuart would one day shatter my delusions of grandeur, last Wednesday wasn't going to be that day. As Hina introduced me to the afternoon crowd, I resolved that I was going to give them the CLE program of their lives. My goal was for at least one attendee to comment that the seminar was better than sex (or at least, better than Stuart's). And for the next three hours, I didn't just teach legal ethics, I preached it ... and with the fervor of Billy Graham, T.D. Jakes and that homeless guy outside of your local Starbucks ... combined. At one point, I had the audience shouting "Hallelujah!", "Amen!" and passing around a collection plate. By the end of the session, I was physically drained but I left the building with the knowledge that I had given my absolute best (and with $9.68 in "love offerings").
And let's be clear: I don't think that Ms. Tughes was trying to manipulate me by falsely inflating Stuart's morning evaluations; although I hereby request certified copies of such evaluations just to be sure. In all likelihood, Hina probably assumed that I possessed the magnanimity and maturity that would allow me to revel in a friend's success. Well, her "naivety" might just point the way for the rest of us to motivate our volunteer speakers by hitting them where it really hurts -- in the ego.
By nature, speakers are competitive and ego-driven; and so are lawyers. After all, many of them work in law firms that are the embodiment of Darwin's "survival of the id-est." Their egos are precious commodities that they will go to any length to maintain. In fact, I'm convinced that the following phone call would work wonders with a volunteer:
"Hello, Mr. Smith, I'm so glad you agreed to speak at our upcoming IP summit. I really expect your presentation to be well-received because last year, we had [your local nemesis] and the audience absolutely loved her. Now, don't worry. No one is expecting [the things a good presenter does] in your talk. After all, she is a partner at [the most prestigious law firm in town], so no one is expecting the same level of excellence from you. That being said, I'm sure the audience will appreciate whatever you can do to [repeat the things a good speaker does]."
The volunteer who receives this kind of "gentle nudging" will respond in one of two ways: (1) He will spend every waking moment honing his presentation to prove once and for all that he is every bit as good as those "jerks" at the law firm of Stuckup, Arrogant and Fullofit; or (2) He will call your boss to have you fired. Either way, you win; and so do your attendees. And, by the way, so does the volunteer speaker. It's no fun for them to speak to an audience where half of the attendees are checking e-mail, organizing their files and/or playing Angry Birds on their iPads, and the other half are mad that they didn't attend the "good seminar" across the state in Cary. Trust me on this point!
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