How being unprepared taught me how to present
The art of taking clients along for the ride
There have been three pivotal moments in my career when it comes to client presentations. One with some terrible advice, one with superb advice, and one that leads me to give the worst advice possible.
Everyone remembers their first pitch bomb, and mine was particularly brutal. I was a mid-weight designer at the time, and looking to make the next steps. Usually in the ad game that means stepping up and waving your hands about in front of a (sometimes) willing client.
This one was slightly different — as I was informed beforehand that if we failed to win, the agency may have to shut down. No pressure. Next up was the fact that my MD at the time sat down, and told me the only way to succeed is to meticulously write a script. Rehearse, learn, and hit EVERY. SINGLE. POINT.
Turns out, that was the worst possible way for me to prepare. I was stilted, confused, and awkward. Staring at my notebook, reading from the slides, trying to hit points that made no sense in the flow. We didn’t win the pitch. 6 months later we were bought out by another bigger agency.
All in a pretty brutal experience my confidence was smashed to bits. I confided in my then Creative Director and explained where I was at — how can I get better? I write everything down, rehearse etc. What am I doing wrong? “Stop giving a shit. Just be yourself, know your stuff and turn up. It’s fine”. So pretty much applied the complete opposite logic of my previous guidance — and it worked.
The first attempt was a smaller scale, a monthly review of a campaign I’d been working on for a while. I knew the client a little, and it made such a huge difference. I knew the work — because it was mine! Why pretend and fake some story, when I know it better than anyone? The flow was far more organic, maybe not perfect but it felt more relaxed and the client was far more connected to the work at the end of it. It took a while and a lot of practice in non-practicing, but it worked. Gradually working up to bigger pitches with bigger clients. The fear of the other side of the table gradually reduced as my confidence grew.
The next part was believing in the work you’re presenting. Harder to nail as you develop as a creative, but the confidence in convictions develops over time. I’m a rubbish liar — so pretending to care about something is obvious, especially to a client. Only present something you think makes sense.
Presenting my work got easier. But what happens when you’re no longer presenting your work, but your team’s?
The third moment came back in my time in gaming. The team and I were working on multiple projects, all with similar deadlines. I was stretched over each one, dipping in and out as much as possible but not able to be fully involved in all. As is life, this meant many meetings — some less prepared than others.
One afternoon I was asked to join a presentation of multiple key art options that I’d only briefly seen. No visibility of the deck itself, and a brief intro with the clients. Expecting to just listen in, eyes turned on me and suddenly I was in pitch mode — pitching something I didn’t fully know and had zero preparation for. It was brilliant.
Every slide was a new piece of artwork from the team. Each one different and all great options (some better than others, obviously). I turned it into a live review, commenting as naturally as possible as it was genuinely the first time for us to all go through the work. It created a fun, organic connection to the artwork and the client were along for the ride. We chatted openly about what worked, what didn’t. No pretense, just pure work and reactions.
The biggest lesson here wasn’t that we should be completely new to everything (obviously), but rather be completely open to the work itself. By being genuinely excited by the creative, that enthusiasm carried over to the clients too. There was no time to be fake, just love for the work. And it showed.
This approach has changed how I view decks and pitch theatre completely. Being open to the work brings the client on the same journey as you. Two way interaction, challenging the work, dissecting it rather than a one-way oration. Making it fun.
If you made the work, believe in it.
If you don’t know the work, be excited by it.
If you’re leading a pitch, don’t fake it.
It takes practice, and time away from presenting leaves you rusty — especially from my side. But applying these three lessons have helped take my experience of public speaking from anxiety-inducing nightmare fuel to fresh ways to have fun with people who just want the best for their brand.
