My Behind-the-Scenes Adventures While Conducting Executive Programs Throughout the World

Ralph H. Kilmann, co-author of the Thomas-Kilmann Instrument (TKI)

 

In this article, I will take you behind the scenes of my global adventures conducting executive programs and delivering keynote presentations. Join me as I share my six favorite stories from my decades on the road.

 

 

Story #1
Lady Di and a Well-Meaning Lie

 

During the late 1980s and early 1990s, several times a year, I conducted a two-day, top-management workshop on “Managing Corporate Culture” in several countries in Europe—under the auspices of the Management Centre Europe, headquartered in Brussels, Belgium. I distinctly remember one of the workshops that I presented in London in the Churchill Hotel, not far from the renowned Oxford Street boutiques and Hyde Park. The Churchill Hotel is very elegant and includes several ballrooms for holding conferences, executive training programs, and all kinds of public and private events.

Soon after I had concluded the first day of my management workshop, the Churchill’s conference staff informed me that a private event would be taking place the following morning and that the hotel, for security reasons, would be on total lockdown for the entire morning: No one would be allowed in or out of the building during that stretch of time. In fact, I was told that a distinguished person would be making a presentation in the ballroom that was right next to my assigned conference room. You might ask: Who was this distinguished person who required a full hotel lockdown in addition to other security measures? It turned out that Princess Diana (aka Lady Di) would be speaking to a select group of people about one of her favorite charities.

I was told that Lady Di would arrive around 10:00 the next morning and that she’d be in the lobby of the conference center for a short while, before she would be entering her assigned conference room for her presentation.

It just so happened that my two best friends from Pittsburgh had just arrived in London a few hours earlier, so we could spend some quality time together during the week following my workshop. I had been traveling so much during the past year that I hadn’t seen them in quite a while. Essentially, their trip to London was a perfect way to catch up on our lives, while also enjoying some of the famous sites in the city.

I had a late dinner with my two best friends that first evening after they had just arrived in London. Several times during our meal, I reminded them to be in the lobby of the conference center by 9:30 the next morning, so they would have the best chance to see Lady Di in person. Since Jeff and Sally were staying at the same hotel, the lockdown in the morning would not affect them; they were already inside the hotel.

The next morning, about 8:00 am, I began the second and final day of my top-management workshop. And then, around 9:30 am, I purposely formed the 50 or so participants into several discussion groups so they could analyze a business case study about an organization that was attempting to undergo massive cultural change. I told the audience that I would leave the room so they could concentrate on their group assignment and that I’d be back in the room by 10:30 am. At that time, each discussion group would take turns presenting its analysis of the case to the rest of the audience. Yes, this assignment was very purposely arranged—and timed—so I could be in the lobby of the conference center to catch a glimpse of Princess Diana.

Once the participants were actively discussing the case study in their assigned group, around 9:40 am, I left the conference room in search of my latest behind-the-scenes adventure. Sure enough, in a short while, around 10:00 am, Lady Di entered the hotel lobby, surrounded by several bodyguards and photographers. That tight-knit group then walked toward the conference room where Lady Di would be speaking to her audience. As I mentioned before, my conference room was right next to hers. As I stood near the door to my conference room, I couldn’t help but notice the large poster on an easel stand that showed my portrait along with the title of my workshop. In a flash, I chuckled that Princess Diana could easily see that I was the one presenting in the neighboring conference room. But I also noticed that no poster of the princess on an easel stand had been placed in front of her assigned conference room. I laughed to myself once again as I realized that no one in England (or perhaps no one else in the world) needed to see a poster of the princess to know who she was. At that time, Diana was one of the most recognizable persons on the planet.

As she and her entourage approached the area in the lobby that provided access to our conference rooms, I was, at most, only five or six feet away from her. I smiled at her, said hi, and quickly commented that I’d be presenting in the room next to hers. She smiled back and nodded to acknowledge that she had heard what I said. That was it. But those few seconds of pleasantries and nods were enough for me. I had accomplished my plan and was able to meet Lady Di. It was quite a thrill for me to meet a royal princess (especially as a mere commoner from the United States).

And yet, as this short interaction was taking place, I couldn’t help but wonder to myself: “Where are Jeff and Sally? They were supposed to be in the conference lobby so they could also meet Princess Diana. What went wrong?” Before I could find out, however, I had to get back to my conference room so the study groups, as planned, could make their community presentations.

The workshop broke for lunch around noon. At that time, I asked the participants to return by 1:30 pm, just as they had done the day before. After they left for lunch, I now had a chance to investigate what had happened to Jeff and Sally. I quickly walked over to a row of hotel phones on one wall in the lobby, so I could call their hotel room. Sally answered. She let me know that she and Jeff had overslept, since they were still on the Pittsburgh time zone … a difference of five hours. Since Jeff and Sally had arrived just the night before, they were still seriously disoriented from the time change and wound up sleeping through their alarm clock.

Sally said they would shower, get dressed, grab some coffee, and then try their best to adjust to the local time zone. Despite still being half asleep, she repeatedly stressed how upset she was to have slept through her one chance to meet Lady Di in person. She asked me how it was for me and I described the brief exchange with the princess that took place in the lobby of the conference center. Sally kept saying how she can’t believe she and Jeff slept through their alarm clock and thereby missed this one-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Following that phone conversation with Sally, before getting some lunch for myself, I decided to first pay a visit to the hotel lobby’s gift shop. As is common for the U.K., the gift shop showcased a large collection of postcards, which, besides showing images of the popular tourist sites, also included images of key members of the royal family. Not surprisingly, there were several postcards that featured Princess Diana in one setting or another. I purchased one of those postcards and then returned to my conference room. Once there, using my left hand (I’m righthanded), I wrote a few sloppy words just below Princess Diana’s image on the postcard: “To Jeff and Sally from Lady Di.” Since I wrote that note with my “other” hand, no one could possibly recognize my handwriting, and hence, the true identity of who had autographed that postcard would not be apparent to anyone who knew me.

After my workshop concluded late afternoon on that same day, I went to dinner with my two best friends from Pittsburgh. While we were sipping on cocktails waiting for our appetizers to arrive, I made the following announcement to them: “You’re in luck! Since it was immediately apparent to me that you had missed the opportunity to meet Lady Di in person, I asked her for her autograph. She agreed. One of her bodyguards handed her a postcard that had her photo on it. She then wrote a few words to you on the card and signed it.” Sally immediately asked: “Where’s the card?” I reached into the inside pocket of my sport jacket and handed her the signed postcard and said: “This postcard is now yours!” Sally read what was written on the postcard and proclaimed: “I will treasure this postcard for the rest of my life.”

But had I spent any time trying to anticipate what Jeff and Sally might actually do with this postcard once they returned home to Pittsburgh? No, not at all: I had not thought through any possible consequences in the future as a result of giving my dear friends that forged postcard of Lady Di. So, what did Jeff and Sally do upon returning home? They had their cherished, autographed postcard beautifully framed and hung on a wall in their living room for all to see. Indeed, whenever friends or family members visited them in their home, they were usually shown the framed portrait of Princess Diana with her “supposed” genuine signature.

When I later learned that Jeff and Sally were displaying that framed postcard that I had fraudulently signed on behalf of Lady Di, I wondered if I should let Sally know the truth … that my elaborate story about the postcard was entirely made up, so it might take away the sting from Jeff and Sally having missed their one and only chance to see Lady Di live. But I quickly decided that I couldn’t disappoint them in this manner … it would break their hearts. As such, I decided to keep my story secret and simply hope that their current excitement of having that framed postcard in their home would fade away over time. But that never happened. The framed postcard of Princess Di remained a prominent feature in their Pittsburgh home for the next several decades.

Those events took place in the late 1980s. Fast forward to 2023 (about 35 years later). Every year, I call Sally on her wedding anniversary and wish her and Jeff the very best for the future. I still don’t know why I had a change of heart, meaning… I don’t know why I finally felt the need to clear the air and confess my big lie. While I was on the phone with Sally on her 2023 wedding anniversary, I said to her: “Do you still have the postcard that Lady Di signed for you so many decades ago?” She said, “Of course I do. I treasure it as much as when you first gave it to me.” I then spilled the beans: “Well, Sally, I feel compelled to unravel the big secret. I must finally confess what really happened so many years ago: I’m sorry to say, but Lady Di did not sign that postcard. After she left the building, I went to the gift shop, bought that card, and then wrote that note and signed the postcard with my left hand, so you couldn’t tell it was me who did that. At the time, I thought it might help you feel better about having missed the live meeting with Princess Diana, since you would at least have an autographed souvenir. And then, when I saw how much it meant to you, much beyond what I could have anticipated, well, I just couldn’t undo that huge practical joke. I’m sorry you were misled all these years.”

There was a long pause on the phone, which surely seemed much longer than it actually was. It was Sally who broke the silence, as she exclaimed only two words in a very loud, emotional outburst: “YOU A-HOLE!”

Seconds later, we both broke out laughing—and continued laughing for quite some time.

In the end, my long-standing friendship with Jeff and Sally easily overcame that embarrassing sequence of events that took place behind the scenes of a two-day management workshop in the Churchill Hotel in London in the late 1980s.

 

Story #2
Caught in the Star Wars Crossfire Inside Russia

 

In 1983, President Reagan announced the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), nicknamed the Star Wars Program, which would defend America from any surprise attack from the Soviet Union’s (USSR) ballistic missiles. The proposed SDI program was very controversial at the time, due to the escalating cold-war conflicts between the two nuclear powers, the Soviet Union and the United States, both of which had already developed large stockpiles of nuclear weapons that could entirely destroy one another.

In 1988, I conducted a three-day management workshop in Helsinki, Finland. Conveniently, the next leg of my tour was to present my theories and methods for managing conflict and change to an executive meeting in Leningrad (which, in 1991, was renamed, St. Petersburg, soon after the collapse of the Soviet Union into 15 independent republics). My travel agent insisted that I register my stay in the Soviet Union with the U.S. Embassy in Leningrad, as soon as I arrived in the city, just in case “something goes wrong.”

Well, it turned out that it took me much longer to arrive at my hotel in that city than I had anticipated: Arriving in the Leningrad airport, every passenger’s suitcase and belongings had to be thoroughly inspected before going through customs. When it was my turn, a uniformed official, speaking in a broken Russian/English language with a heavy accent, asked me to open all my luggage so he could inspect what I was bringing into the Soviet Union. The inspection seemed to be going very smoothly until that inspector noticed an odd, very unusual piece of electronic equipment in my one suitcase. What was this strange electrical equipment that concerned the Soviet inspector—and why?

In those days, I purposely combined a number of management workshops and keynote presentations in different countries into one single cross-Atlantic trip—rather than making separate round trips from Pittsburgh to each country, one at a time. In that era, TV channels in foreign countries were provided only in the local language… not in English. Yet at night, I found that the best way for me to relax after eight long hours of formal presentations and workshop discussions was to watch a science fiction or an action movie. To that end, for me to relax and rejuvenate myself during the evenings on my extended trips to Europe and elsewhere, I had purchased a portable VCR player that included a 5-inch color screen—a great portable device that had only recently become available for purchase. It was a super convenient piece of compact equipment that allowed me to bring along several VHS tapes in the English language, whereby I could then watch my favorite science fiction movies every night while conducting one workshop after another, in one country or another, during the day.

When the Soviet inspector pointed to the strange (to him) electrical equipment in my suitcase, he asked me: “What is that?” I responded: “I watch things to relax at night.” He then followed up with his next question: “What things do you watch?”

In retrospect, I wish I would have first taken some time to think through his question and my possible answers, and what the consequences might be if I answered one way or another. But in the heat of the moment (being questioned by a Soviet inspector in a very foreign land who did not seem to understand much of the English language), I went with my first gut reaction to his question concerning what exactly do I watch on my portable VCR player: At that crucial moment, with all my options still wide open, I blurted out the two dumbest words I have ever spoken in my lifetime: “Star Wars.”

Before I could do or say anything else, the inspector shouted some words in Russian to his other comrades who were still inspecting other passengers’ suitcases at the same time. Before I knew it, they had pulled out their handguns that had been neatly tucked away in their holsters underneath their uniformed jackets and told me that I was being suspected of carrying secret U.S. intelligence information that could harm the Soviet Union. Five inspectors with guns then escorted me out of that area and into a small waiting room and closed the door behind us. Since I had absolutely no clue as to what was going on, I was scared to death. I had not yet been able to register my stay with the U.S. Embassy in Leningrad, since I had never made it out of the airport. To this day, I still can’t fully grasp just how petrified I must have been while being held at gunpoint in a Soviet airport, not knowing the language or the culture or the local laws…. with no sense as to what was happening to me and why, and what could possibly happen to me next. But I can honestly say, being in that small room in the Leningrad airport surrounded by armed guards was probably the scariest moment in my life.

So, what happened next? I waited and waited and waited. I occasionally asked the guards: “Did I do something wrong?” “I was just using that video equipment to watch action movies at night. That’s it. Is there a law against doing that?” I didn’t know what to ask or what to say, other than: “When can I go to my hotel in the city? I have a workshop to conduct there in the next few days. Please let me know what’s going on.” But I got no response.

I waited in that side room in the airport with a few armed guards for many hours. During that time, the guards gave me a bottle of water to drink and I could go to the restroom as needed. That was all I could do. Finally, after more than six hours, a new guard entered the room and said that I was free to collect my belongings and leave. I was stunned, but relieved. When I finally arrived in my room in a Leningrad hotel, I could exhale and feel (somewhat) safe again. The next morning, I went to the U.S. Embassy in Leningrad and registered my stay in the Soviet Union.

But it wasn’t until I was settled in my hotel room that I reflected on the conversation I had with that first inspector in the Leningrad airport, when he had asked me about the electronic equipment that I was carrying in my suitcase. In a flash, it dawned on me: “Oh my God! I was thinking of the Star Wars movies since, besides the VCR itself, I had also brought along several movies from that collection of science fiction masterpieces.” But now, I quickly recalled that “Star Wars” was the nickname that U.S. leaders had given to the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI) that was being designed to defend the U.S. from any ballistic missile attack by the Soviet Union (nuclear or otherwise). I suppose the inspection guards in the airport initially thought that I might be carrying some top-secret information that the Soviets might be able use to counteract (or counterattack) whatever the U.S. “Star Wars” program was being designed to do.

I also wondered what those airport inspectors were doing while I was being detained for more than six hours in that small room, surrounded by several armed guards. My best guess? They were all watching my Star Wars movies on my portable VCR player! Maybe after 6 hours, it was time for them to leave work and go home. Regardless, I think it became abundantly clear to them that there was no top-secret information being provided by Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Darth Vader, C3PO, or R2D2—even if there was a subtle connection between the essence of the Soviet Union and the qualities of the Evil Empire that’s portrayed in George Lucas’ engaging collection of Star Wars movies.

 

Story #3
My Precarious Journey to Barcelona

 

Between 1987 and 1988, I spent about one week every month in Barcelona, Spain, consulting for a company that was implementing my multi-track program for corporate transformation. On average, I stayed in that city about five days every month, conducting my programs for about 250 managers and executives in that company.

Typically, on a Monday evening every month, after teaching my afternoon doctoral seminar at the University of Pittsburgh, I would fly from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia, where my British Airways plane would then pick up some additional passengers before continuing on its direct flight to London. Once I arrived in London and went through customs, I would then take a flight to Barcelona on Iberia Airlines. Several days later, usually on Saturday of that same week, I would then reverse my trusty route that brought me there in order to travel back to Pittsburgh, so I could again teach my doctoral seminar on Monday afternoon as well as attend to my other university responsibilities during the rest of the week.

As noted, I followed this same routine, once a month, for almost two years. In addition, since I was taking that long, cross-Atlantic trip to Europe, I often extended my stay and traveled to other nearby countries in order to deliver additional keynote presentations or conduct some other top-management programs—before returning to Pittsburgh. It seemed I was constantly “on the road again,” as melodically captured in Willie Nelson’s famous song of that same title.

During my two-year consulting project in Barcelona, the senior executives of that company would occasionally ask me to deliver a presentation or workshop to a group of executives from other companies in Spain in order to inspire those other Spanish companies to also proceed with corporate transformation. The goal was to encourage all those Spanish companies (and Spain as a whole) to become more competitive with their counterparts in other European nations. In fact, in 1986, Spain joined the “European Communities” (12 countries in total at that time), which would later become the European Union in 1993, after the fall of communism and after the fall of the Berlin Wall. It was clear to me that many Spanish companies knew they had to transform their way of doing business in order to succeed in a much larger—unified—European marketplace.

On one particular occasion, the CEO of that Barcelona company asked me to present my approach to transforming organizations to about 50 distinguished senior executives from other Spanish companies who were already successful inside Spain, but were concerned just how well their organizations would fare when they had to complete with other European companies. Not surprisingly, such an important program had to be planned many months in advance in order to coordinate the travel schedules of those very busy senior executives. To do justice to the anticipated importance of my presenting a completely integrated program for achieving long-term organizational success, the chosen venue for this program was a fancy resort hotel on the top of a mountain, just outside the city of Barcelona. I was absolutely delighted to have been given this opportunity to further extend the reach of my work to several more organizations in Spain—in such a beautiful setting.

I scheduled my usual flights from Pittsburgh to Barcelona. A private car would then meet me at the Barcelona airport and transport me to that mountain-top resort. I was especially looking forward to this exciting adventure, not realizing that simply getting there would be much more demanding than I could ever have imagined beforehand.

When it was time for me to take this special trip to Spain, there was a snowstorm already taking place on the East Coast of the U.S. Since my flights were neither canceled nor delayed, I proceeded on my journey. However, when my Pittsburgh flight was descending on its assigned runway at the Philadelphia International Airport, my plane grazed a service van that had lost its way, due to the blistering snow that had been falling for several hours. Even though we landed safely (after experiencing a huge jolt just before we touched down on the runway), the plane was damaged in the incident and therefore could not continue on its scheduled flight to London. Moreover, there were currently no available planes to take the place of the damaged one. The remainder of my flights to London and Barcelona, therefore, were officially cancelled.

Once all us passengers departed the damaged plane, I checked the flight schedules in the airport lounge: There were no more flights to London that evening. The next flight from Philadelphia to London wouldn’t depart until the next evening. But I had to be in Barcelona tomorrow, since my presentation to those 50 Spanish executives was scheduled to take place the following morning in that mountain-top resort. If I waited for the next flight to London from Philadelphia (tomorrow evening), I wouldn’t arrive in Barcelona in time to attend my own presentation.

In my mind, there was no way I could miss that executive meeting on the mountain top just outside of Barcelona, which had been arranged six months earlier. I had to be there. Period. If that special event did not take place as scheduled, it would be especially disappointing (perhaps even embarrassing) for the Barcelona company that was sponsoring my presentation for those executives from several other companies.

As such, I was in desperate need of a Plan B.

After waiting on a long line to speak to an airport concierge, I learned that there was only one possible way through my current predicament: As it turned out, British Airways did have a flight the next morning at 9 am, which would get me to London the same day, so I could take a later flight from there to Barcelona and still arrive in the evening. But there was a catch: That morning flight to London did not depart from the Philadelphia International Airport (as I already knew from the evening before) but was scheduled to depart from the JFK International Airport in Jamaica, Queens, New York City … which was more than 100 miles from my current location.

Basically, proceeding with Plan B, I would first have to rent a car and drive—through a snowstorm—to arrive at JFK Airport in Jamaica, Queens, by early morning. Ordinarily, the driving time would be about 2 hours between the two airports. But with the bad weather, it was hard to say how much additional time would be needed for my drive to New York City. However, it was now 9:00 pm in the evening, so there would not be any traffic jams on the road going north, other than what slowdowns might occur from the storm. Since I had to arrive in Barcelona tomorrow (so I could deliver my presentation the very next morning), it seemed I had no other choice.

More specifically, that flight to London was scheduled to depart from JFK at 9:00 am in the morning, New York Time, which was 2:00 pm in the afternoon, London Time. That flight was scheduled to arrive at 6:00 pm in the evening, London Time. Doing the math, given those departure and arrival times (taking into account the 1-hour difference in time zone) suggested a four-hour flight. But I knew very well that it usually takes about 8 hours to fly from New York to London, with an average jet speed of about 600 miles per hour. Yet British Airlines was offering that same flight in half the time? Naturally, I asked the concierge: “How is this flight time even possible?”

The concierge then informed me that the Concorde (a supersonic jet that can travel more than 1200 miles per hour) would be making the flight, which would only take half of the usual flight time. Naturally, I (or rather my client) had to pay for the difference in airline fees (since the Concorde flight was much more expensive). But for the time being, money was no object in this adventure: I had to be in Barcelona in time for my presentation! Once I made the reservation for the Concorde (and paid the extra fee), I phoned my contact person in Spain who was coordinated all my educational programs there. I let him know that I would keep him abreast of any changes in my travel schedule. But if everything worked as planned, he would pick me up at the Barcelona airport and drive me straightaway to that mountain-top resort.

After I picked up my one suitcase in the baggage claim area, a service van took me to the airport rental car place. It was now about 10:45 pm in the evening. Because of the storm, they only had two cars left to rent. I was in luck!

By midnight, I was already driving on the road to New York City, thoroughly exhausted from the unexpected events on my trip so far—but I had to keep going. I also had to drive as safely as possible, given the bad weather. In fact, my average speed was only about 40 miles an hour on the New Jersey highway (the posted speed limit was 65 miles an hour), since I had trouble seeing the road through the swirling snowfall.

I finally arrived at the JFK International Airport by 4:00 am in the morning. I had a few hours before I had to check in for my 9:00 am flight on the Concorde. But before I returned my rental car at the airport, I parked on a nearby street, set the alarm on my digital watch, and did my best to rest my eyes and maybe even sleep for a few hours.

At 7:30 am, I was already at the gate, where I then boarded my Concorde flight. Finally, the process was going smoothly. I must say: It was really nice experiencing that super-fast mode of transportation and flying so high in the sky (60,000 feet above sea level) that you could see the curvature of the Earth. As tired as I was, I kept looking out the little window by my seat as I marveled at this amazing technology that would hopefully allow me to fulfill my professional commitment to that inspired group of Spanish executives. Good news: The Concorde arrived in London pretty much on schedule at about 6:15 pm in the evening, local time.

Then I faced the next nightmare on my precarious journey to Barcelona.

When I entered the large room in the Heathrow Airport for going through customs, I was shocked to see a few hundred people who were waiting on a very, very long line to present their passport to a row of customs agents (and answer any questions about their trip and its purpose). My first response: “Oh my God. It’ll take me a few hours to get thought that line!” Since I had missed my previous connection from London to Barcelona (because my plane from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia was damaged when it hit a van on the runway), I had to purchase a new plane ticket to Barcelona. I had already discovered that there was only one available flight this evening to that airport, leaving London at 7:45 pm and arriving in Barcelona at 11:00 pm, local time. If I missed that last flight to Barcelona, I wouldn’t get to deliver my presentation as scheduled. I would, once again, be in the exact same predicament as I had been in Philadelphia, just the evening before.

Basically, for me to make it to Barcelona so I could deliver my presentation to those executives on the very next morning, I first had to get through customs, next I had to make my way to the ticket counter in the airport lobby so I could purchase my ticket to Barcelona (and check in my suitcase), and then I had to sprint to the departing gate in time to make the flight, which was only 90 minutes from now. Keep in mind: There was no Internet in those days, so I couldn’t process anything online (such as scheduling my flight to Barcelona, let alone purchasing my airline ticket). I had to get to the right ticket counter, in person, which could only work if I got through customs in a hurry and then make it to the ticket counter in a very short period of time.

With my one suitcase in tow, I walked up to a uniformed customs agent who was positioned in the back of the room and asked him if there was some way that I could get to the front of the customs line, since I had to catch the last flight that evening to Barcelona. I told him that I had to make a keynote presentation the following morning, which was arranged for 50 executives more than six months ago. I exaggerated a little when I added that my professional reputation was at stake, so he would be sure to know that I really needed his help.

The customs agent listened intently and then said: “Everyone in this room has to be somewhere else by yesterday. I’m sorry for your situation, but you’ll have to wait on the same customs line, just like everyone else.” I also listened intently, but I wasn’t pleased with his response, so I asked again: “Isn’t there some way I can get through this line more quickly?” Again, the customs agent responded, “I’m sorry, Sir. But there is nothing I or anyone else can do. Everyone has to wait on the same line before going through customs. Several planes must have landed about the same time, which results in these long custom lines.”

It now seemed that this latest obstacle to my getting to Barcelona on time had thoroughly defeated me. Nevertheless, I thanked him for his consideration and began walking away to get on that very long line as soon as possible—even though the effort would be fruitless in the end. But a few seconds later, I instinctively turned around and walked back to that same customer agent and tried one more time to compel him to join me on my sacred mission: “I appreciate what you are saying, sir, but are you telling me that there is no way under the sun, no workaround, no loophole, no alternative … that would allow me to get to the front of the line?”

This time, the customs agent seemed to express a little more compassion on his face, as if another approach had miraculously, yet instantly, emerged from the deep recesses in his mind. He responded with a brand-new perspective on the current situation: “It seems you are going to keep pestering me for the rest of the evening unless I help you. How about this: If you promise to leave me alone and never bother me again, I’ll take you to the front of the customs line. Just follow me and all will be well.”

He proceeded to walk to the front of the customs line, with me right behind him. In a few moments, I was in the front of the line, showed my passport to the person who sat behind the counter and then answered his standard questions about why I was visiting London.

As soon as I had cleared customs, I thanked my dear friend who had stood right beside me for the entire time, and then I dashed to the designated counter in the airport lobby to purchase an airline ticket (and check in my suitcase) for that last evening flight to Barcelona.

When I was settled in my seat on the plane, I finally could take some deep breaths and reflect on the last 24 hours of my facing—and then surmounting—one roadblock after another on my very long journey to that distant mountain top. Yes, in the end, I made it to my intended destination on time and delivered my presentation to that inspired group of senior executives. Years later, I still marvel at all I had to go through, behind the scenes, to share my theories and methods with people and organizations around the globe.

 

Story #4
Running in Circles in Phoenix

 

In the early 1980s, I began conducting two-day and three-day management workshops in numerous cities across the United States: New York, San Francisco, Orlando, New Orleans, Colorado Springs, Long Beach, Phoenix, Maui, Houston, Nashville, San Diego, Atlanta … and many more. My staff at the University of Pittsburgh selected high-end hotels to hold these workshops, which they felt would appeal to the senior executives whom we sought to recruit for our educational programs. Naturally, I also personally enjoyed being in fancy hotels in very nice settings where I could present my theories and methods for corporate transformation to the people who had the authority to implement transformational change—if they were truly committed to the long-term success of their organizations and institutions.

Those two-day and three-day workshops took a lot out of me, since I gave my all during those programs. Usually, at the end of the day, I was pretty tired, even if I was thoroughly enthused with presenting my work to others. To have the strength and energy to conduct these workshops almost every month in the most effective way possible, I had to keep myself in great physical condition so I could marshal all the energy I needed to engage and inspire the participants in my programs. Because not every hotel that I used for my management workshops had a gym with suitable exercise equipment, I took to running as a way of keeping myself physically fit for my energy demanding presentations. And it was so easy: I just had to bring along my running shoes and running clothes on every trip. Once in the hotel, I could change into my running gear, walk out of the hotel, and proceed to run through the hotel’s surrounding neighborhoods and streets. And all I needed to stay super fit was a daily five-mile run, which usually took me between 35 and 40 minutes.

During those management workshops in the U.S., lunch was scheduled from noon to 2:00 pm, so the participants could have plenty of time to enjoy a nice meal and relax in the hotel’s luxurious environment—before returning to the conference room where the program would then continue until about 5 or 6 in the evening.

Having a two-hour lunch break also enabled me to enjoy a light snack after the morning session in the workshop, clear my head, and then go for a five-mile run in the vicinity of the hotel. So long as I would be back in my hotel room by 1:30 pm, I’d have enough time (30 minutes) to take a quick shower after my run, get dressed, and then return to the conference room for the afternoon session of the program. This is how I typically spent my lunchtime while conducing those two and three-day management workshops in cities throughout the United States. (In other countries, particularly in Europe, the client usually dictated the lunch schedule and the workshop was often held at the company’s headquarters, not in a hotel, which prevented me from going on a five-mile run in the middle of the day. Instead, I would usually go on a five-mile run in the early evening hours, just before going out for dinner.)

But there was one time when my plans for taking a lunchtime run almost resulted in a major calamity: In the mid 1980s, I was conducting a three-day workshop in a beautiful hotel near Phoenix, Arizona, which was surrounded by residential neighborhoods. After the first morning of the workshop, at about 12:45 pm, I went out for my usual lunchtime run. I was planning to return to my hotel room by 1:30 pm, which would give me enough time to get ready for the 2:00 pm start to the afternoon session of my program.

Most important to mention: Whenever I’m out running in an unfamiliar location, I always take note of certain “landmarks” or “markers” on the roads or pathways, which was essential to do so I could easily return to my starting point, my hotel, in an unfamiliar city. Sometimes, the chosen landmark would be a tall building, or a street sign, or a river, or a unique home I pass along the way. By keeping those landmarks clearly in my mind, I would never get lost, so I could always get back to my hotel room in time to get ready for the next session in my program.

But something happened during this run near Phoenix, which never happened to me before …  and I’ve since made sure that it will never happen to me again. First, on the opening day of the workshop, the outside temperature in Phoenix, at noontime, was about 98 degrees in the shade, which meant that it was much hotter in the sunlight. It did occur to me that maybe it was too hot for a run at this time of day, but I ignored that caution since I really wanted to see the neighborhoods, get some needed exercise, and clear my head for the next session of the program.

I had never been in this Phoenix hotel before and I knew nothing of the surrounding area. As a result, as soon as I left the hotel and began running on the safe side of the street, I took note of a few landmarks, every four or five blocks, so I could easily find my way back to the hotel. Maybe it was due to the extreme heat and the intense sunshine, but my mind started intellectually exploring the kinds of landmarks and markers that would be most effective for finding my way back. Initially, I decided it’s probably best not to choose a landmark that would likely change or nor longer be there on my return route. For example, perhaps I might run by a very large, bright red truck that was parked in a driveway. That would be an easy marker to recognize on my return to the hotel. However, it would be quite possible that the truck would no longer be there in 30 minutes (or whenever I would pass through this street again), because the owner decided to drive the truck to another place. Therefore, a landmark that could easily and quickly be moved/transported would not be effective for my purpose.

Then I thought it would be better to select a house with a distinctive feature, such as a bright blue awning over the front door, which stood out from the other houses on my lunchtime run. In all likelihood, that awning would still be blue when I’d be making my way back to the hotel. But then I pondered: I suppose it’s possible that the owner of that house might, just when I was on my lunchtime run, repaint that blue awning with a light gray color. This possibility, however, seemed rather remote. And yet, the color of the awning on the front of a house addressed the possible consequences of my choosing a temporary versus a more permanent landmark. Nevertheless, using the blue awning as a marker for my run (which, theoretically, could be changed or painted in a different color) certainly seemed more effective than using the big red truck in a driveway as a marker, which the owner could drive away at any time.

Not surprisingly, my mind then considered whether to choose a landmark that was even more permanent than a blue awning over the front door of a home. If available, I could choose a very large, tall building that would unlikely be demolished or moved during my 35 to 40-minute run. Or what if I selected a distant mountain as a landmark or even selected an entire mountain range to pinpoint my whereabouts, which would remain in its place for thousands if not millions of years? But then I realized that the more permanent the landmark, as in the case of a mountain range, the larger it would likely be. As such, it might be more difficult to make use of such a very large, distant landmark, since it might not be distinguishable along the different sections of my running path. In fact, I might be able to see that same mountain range from every place on my run, which would not help me to get my bearings on how to get back to my hotel in time for the after-lunch session in my management workshop.

These were only a few of the various musings that were arising in my very active mind concerning what are the very best landmarks to choose for finding my way back.

However, it’s certainly possible that the very hot temperature in the noontime sun was wreaking havoc on my mind/brain. I did feel the skin on my forearms begin to tingle during this run, including some confusion and stress in my thinking, which suggests that I might have been experiencing the onset of heat stroke.

Regardless of what was my state of mind at the time, and whether I was grounded in the present situation or not, I suddenly realized that I was totally lost! Ironically, just as I was pondering the nature of landmarks in my mind, I totally neglected to pay undivided attention to, and therefore remember, the reliable landmarks along the way (whether those landmarks were temporary or permanent), which caused me to lose my way.

Now I was experiencing a crisis: My watch indicated that it already was 1:20 pm and I was supposed to be back in my hotel room in ten minutes, by 1:30 pm, so I could get ready to proceed with my workshop at 2:00 pm. And, right now, I had absolutely no idea where I was and I had no clue as to how long it might take me to run back to the hotel.

In a few minutes after I put myself in a calmer state (with several slow, deep, mindful breaths), I turned around and began running in the opposite direction—hoping that I would recognize some of the terrain (the available landmarks) that I had passed, even if I wasn’t consciously selecting and then remembering one landmark after another. But as I was running along a route that I thought (hoped) would bring me back to the hotel, nothing looked familiar to me. Yes, I was truly lost and quickly running out of time.

I then started running down a different street, again hoping that something would look familiar to me (from having passed that place before, even when I was lost in thought about the essential nature of different kinds of landmarks), but everything remained unfamiliar, street after street. It was now 1:30 pm and I still had no idea how far I was from the hotel. Was I running in circles? Was I even further away from the hotel than when I began my return run?

Since I was the only person who was available to conduct these workshops, there was no one else to pick up the slack for me, by taking my place at the start of the afternoon session. Since there were no cell phones in those days, I also couldn’t call my staff to alert them to my predicament, so they could possibly take a taxi and pick me up. I was physically lost, having a mild panic attack amidst the onset of heat stroke, and I was out of touch with my staff back at the hotel.

But then, in the next instance, I had a brainstorm: Why don’t I flag down a car or truck that passes by and ask for directions back to my hotel? The fact that it took me so long to think of that simple solution tells me what my state of mind must have been at the time! After a few attempts, a car pulled up to the stop sign at the end of a street; I quickly raised my right arm as I extended the forefinger on that hand in order to signal that I had a question to ask the driver of the car. The person opened his car’s front window and asked if I needed something. I explained my situation and the driver then said: “If you get into my car, I’ll drive you to your hotel. It will only take five minutes. We are not far away.” I thanked him profusely and quickly got into the passenger’s side of his car. He then drove to my hotel. I arrived there at about 1:40 pm. I ran to my room and put on my workshop clothes. I decided that I did not have enough time to shower, but at least I would be at the conference room by 2:00 pm in order to begin the afternoon session of my management workshop. Yes, I was a little concerned about how I looked, especially since my hair was a sweaty mess, but I reminded myself that the participants were attending the workshop to learn my theories and methods—not to see how good I looked, how well I was dressed, and whether my hair was clean and in its proper place.

What lessons did I learn from this behind-the-scenes adventure on the streets in Phoenix? First, even if I need to clear my mind and want to keep myself physically fit, I will not go running in the middle of the day when the outside temperature is over 90 degrees in the shade (which will be much hotter in the sun), Second, I will keep my attention focused on my run, staying fully present, instead of letting my mind wander off to ponder interesting conceptual questions, while I totally forget to choose (and remember) the kind of landmarks that will still be there for finding my way back to the hotel. And third, when possible, I will choose a hotel for my workshops whose surrounding area is easy to navigate for my round-trip, five-mile runs in the middle of the day during my management workshops.

 

Story #5
Unveiling Corporate Culture in Helsinki

 

In late September 1985, I delivered a keynote address to the Board of Directors and the major stockholders of a large company that’s headquartered in Helsinki, Finland. This annual meeting took place in the company’s building in the downtown area of the city. There were about 500 people in attendance.

The topic for my keynote presentation was “Managing Corporate Culture,” which had become a very hot topic for organizations throughout the 1980s. First deciphering and then improving a company’s culture was initially inspired by three bestselling management books that were all published around the same time in the early part of that decade: Ouchi’s Theory Y (1981), Peters and Waterman’s In Search of Excellence (1982), and Deal and Kennedy’s Corporate Cultures (1982). I had examined corporate culture throughout my recent book: Beyond the Quick Fix (1984): In that book, I proposed five tracks (pathways) to long-term organizational success, the first one being the Culture Track, which established a safe and conducive environment for addressing and then improving all other aspects of an organization: management skills, teamwork, strategy-structures, reward systems, etc.

For this annual meeting, I wore a dark gray business suit. Everyone else was also appropriately dressed for the occasion. Besides my keynote presentation, various members of the company’s Board of Directors summarized the key events and achievements of the past year and also suggested what events and projects were being planned for the following year. Everyone seemed to enjoy the company’s annual stockholder’s meeting.

When all the formal presentations and follow-up discussions had concluded by about 4:00 pm in the afternoon, I assumed that was the official end of the meeting and that it was now time for me to return to my hotel and perhaps enjoy a late afternoon run through the streets of Helsinki. But when I went to thank the board members for having invited me to contribute to their annual meeting, I was surprised that they invited me to continue meeting with them (just the 15 members of the board) in another room in their corporate building.

This is how the board members presented their latest invitation to me: “We have an activity in Finland that we do almost every day and we’d like you to join us so we can continue our discussions. It would mean a lot to us if you joined us on the top floor of our corporate building.” This invitation was extended in such a genuine and heart-felt manner that it seemed the only thing I could say was something like this: “It would be a great honor for me to join you! Thank you for inviting me to continue our dialog after the formal meeting.”

With my acceptance to their latest invitation, I followed that group of directors to an elevator, which took us up to the top floor of the building. Naturally, I still had no idea about what this mysterious event would be like, but everything had been going so well that I think I automatically assumed that the top floor of the building would include a very comfortable space—perhaps filled with soft sofas and cushioned chairs for enjoying the beautiful views of the city. I thought we might also indulge in sipping on some wine or other beverages/cocktails while we chatted about the day’s events and anything else that came to mind. From what I remember, I anticipated that the top floor of the corporate building would provide a very relaxed setting to continue our discussions.

When the elevator door opened, we entered one large room that seemed to occupy the entire floor. There weren’t any comfortable chairs or sofas in view; there was only a row of folded metal seats lined up along one of the walls. But that wide-open room included several buffet tables that offered a great variety of delicious delicacies. Three of the walls on that top floor had very large windows that showcased a beautiful cityscape for all to see.

On the fourth wall in the room, I noticed a large glass door on a long glass wall. But what was inside that all-glass room? It was a very large sauna that was used by the company’s executives and board members during the week, almost daily in fact. Indeed, as it turns out, saunas are very popular in Finland: Perhaps as much as 90% of the population takes at least 1 sauna every week. That activity is said to produce the happiest country in the world! As such, taking a sauna in Finland is a core component of the country’s culture, which had, not surprisingly, been assimilated into their company’s culture, all of which was totally in sync with the theme of my keynote presentation on corporate culture.

At first, I thought it was very nice that the board of directors of this large company wanted to show me where they regularly (sometimes daily) would take a sauna during their workday, which was expected to enhance their performance, health, and happiness. But in just a few minutes, it became quite apparent that the board members went to the top floor not just to show me where they enjoy their saunas, but to actually take a sauna in real time. And to top it all off, they expected me to join them in this sauna experience!

It took me a few moments to grasp what they expected of me and what was about to happen: Next to the glass door, there was a small table that had a stack of towels on it. It was now obvious that we would use those towels for the sauna. Thus, we were now about to disrobe in mass and then enter the large group sauna with only a bath towel to cover the private parts of each person’s body.

Truth be told: I had NEVER before been in a situation where a professional client, let alone a group of clients, would disrobe and then enter a sauna together. Whenever I had entered a sauna in the U.S., I either had a private room all to myself or I was in a larger sauna in a gym with total strangers. But the idea of taking a sauna with a group of people who had just heard my keynote presentation seemed VERY strange and weird to me.

But I then remembered the old saying: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” I took that saying to heart, as all of us took off our clothes, put them on a folding chair, grabbed a towel from that table by the door, and then entered the large sauna room. After we were sitting and sweating for a while, I must admit it: I got more and more comfortable. Taking a sauna with this group became quite natural. Conversations about all kinds of topics just flowed from one moment to the next. For about 45 minutes, we all sat there and enjoyed a casual conversation among friends and colleagues.

By the way, all the members on the Board of Directors were men, which might have made this experience a little easier to experience. I’m not sure what this sauna would have felt like if there had been women there as well. I did not see a separate sauna for women only; there was only this one large sauna on the top floor of the corporate building. I actually considered asking one of the directors what would have taken place if they had one or more women on the Board of Directors, but I decided not to bother. I didn’t want to stir up an issue that might go against the grain of their country or company culture, which I was just beginning to grasp in my short visit to Helsinki.

Let it be known: That was the first (and only) time I ever felt that I had to disrobe in front of my clients as part of a corporate event, let alone to do so in front of the entire Board of Directors at their annual stockholder meeting. I will never forget what happened behind the scenes of my keynote presentation in Helsinki.

 

Story #6
Thank You So Much for Making My First Car

 

Based on the popularity of my 1989 book, Managing Beyond the Quick Fix, I was invited to give a keynote presentation to the United Auto Workers (the UAW members who build our American made cars and trucks) and General Motors (their senior executives and other top managers of the corporation) at the Renaissance Center in Detroit, Michigan. That Joint Training Conference (JTC) was held on September 28, 1994, and was attended by about 1,500 people. The conference took place in a large ballroom, which included a large stage with a huge screen (that spanned the entire stage) that was used to display my presentation slides for the “Five Tracks to Organizational Success.” Those five tracks consisted of this sequence of change initiatives for achieving long-term organizational success: culture, skills, teams, strategy-structure, and the reward system.

In the front section of the ballroom, just below that large stage, was a long table with chairs for GM’s senior executives. As such, these 12 executives had front-row seats to experience my presentation—up close and personal.

Whenever I prepare for an upcoming keynote presentation, I first learn something about the organization and/or the audience, and then I use that information to connect with them. I might tell a story that is relevant to the company’s history or say something the pertains to the company’s products or services … so the members in the audience would more likely feel connected with me and, perhaps, they would then be especially attentive and receptive to my theories and methods. I have always found that first establishing some common ground and shared experience (i.e., rapport) goes a long way in encouraging an audience to listen, learn, and then apply what they learned in order to improve their work lives as well as their personal lives.

So, how did I begin my keynote presentation to this large audience of UAW and GM personnel in order to gain their undivided attention? I decided to tell the story of my very first car and how special it was to me. I assumed that the audience would especially appreciate that story, given that their work lives were exclusively involved with designing, building, and selling cars and trucks throughout the world.

I began by suggesting that growing up in the United States often included a teenager’s dream of learning to drive a car, getting their first driver’s license, taking their first solo drive in a car, and eventually getting a car of their own. Maybe in the old days, the story would be about learning to ride a horse and eventually having your own horse … but in recent times, the modern dream of transportation is about getting around with a car: for work, school, shopping, travel, and recreation.

As I was sharing the cultural context for my story, I couldn’t help but be a bit distracted by the row of GM executives who were sitting by that front-row table directly in front of the stage: They were obviously whispering to one another while I was providing the background for my opening story. They also seemed to be anxious, worried, or concerned about what was taking place—based on what I could sense from their facial expressions and body language. Obviously, I had to focus on the larger audience, so I couldn’t continue to gaze at the senior executive table. But it was still rather easy to tell that something with those executives was amiss, as they continued to whisper to one another. Nevertheless, I proceeded with my opening story.

After I provided the cultural context of the importance of driving and owning a car in America, I finally let the audience know the make and features of my very first car. I said it in this way: “It probably won’t surprise you, given the cultural milestone of owning your first car in America, that the distinctive features of my first car are etched in my mind forever. Indeed, I remember that first car much more than any car I’ve had since then. Maybe it’s like your first kiss, or your first girlfriend or your first boyfriend. You’ll always remember that first experience into adulthood, freedom, and independence.

“Okay, I’ll now describe the make, model, and features of my very first car: It was a 1963 Chevy Impala Super Sport (SS) convertible, Palomar Red, with black bucket seats and a white convertible top. It had a 327 cubic-inch engine, which came with the Chevy’s Super Sport model. That engine produced 250 horsepower. To let the world know these facts, the front side panels of the car displayed the familiar logo of Chevy’s crossed flags with the designation of 327 horsepower; while the rear side panels displayed the SS logo with the image of an Impala.”

I took a brief pause, so the audience could absorb the details that I had just provided them about my very first car. And then I added: “From the bottom of my heart, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for having been involved—directly or indirectly—in creating my first-car experience. That joy has stayed with me all my life and I still have several photos of that car to remind me of how much I enjoyed it and how much it meant to me. Thank you so much for making my first car!”

At that moment, I received a huge round of applause from the audience, which included some loud roars. It seemed that everyone in the audience was smiling and enjoying the significance of the first car in THEIR life. It was also clear from their reaction that my story had achieved its purpose: The audience was now ready to listen attentively to everything else I had to say … but now the topic was how effectively implementing those five tracks could help GM and the UAW achieve long-term success.

But before I began with the first slide of my formal presentation, I once again glanced down at that row of senior executives who were sitting on the head table just below the stage. In contrast to their whispering to one another and showing signs of concern or worry (as they had seemingly revealed when I first began providing the context for my story), they now appeared relaxed and happy: Instead of showing worry on their faces, they were now all smiling. I didn’t know what caused the change in their facial expressions and body language, but I was relieved that they now seemed to be fully onboard and eager to listen to my theories and methods for bringing about corporate transformation for the future. I then took my gaze off the senior executives on that front-row table and proceeded to deliver my keynote presentation to the larger audience.

I concluded my portion of the Joint Training Conference in about 60 minutes. Because of the very large audience, the attendees were not given the opportunity to ask questions from their seats; instead, they were invited to line up in the center aisle, so they could greet me in person, one by one, and make a comment or ask me a question. I liked that GM had made this arrangement so I and the audience could have a more personal connection after my formal presentation.

In a short time, there was a long line of audience members. One by one, each person had the opportunity to shake my hand, thank me for being here, and then make a comment or ask me a question. But I would soon discover that this “reception line” would reveal to me what was going on behind the scenes of my keynote presentation.

In fact, I was totally surprised with what I learned from those 30 plus people who waited on that line to greet me. Indeed, all of them had the same single purpose in mind: They wanted to share THEIR first-car experience with me, which included the specific make, model, and features of their first car and what it meant to them growing up with that first car in America. Said differently, of the 30 or more people who went to that center aisle, not one single person made a comment or asked me a question about the content of my presentation, such as how my five-track program for achieving long-term success could be implemented throughout the UAW and GM organizations. It was as if the audience only heard my opening three-minute story (which was only shared to enhance their engagement with the remaining content of my formal presentation) and had zero interest in learning more about what I had just presented. One person after another, with a smile beaming from ear to ear, wanted me to know the features of THEIR first car, with no expressed interest in corporate transformation!

Naturally, I responded to each person’s description of their first car with much pleasure, since my own experience allowed me to deeply empathize with all those other first-car accounts. It took about an hour in total for me to greet each person on that reception line.

Afterwards, I met with the 12 senior executives who were sitting at that first-row table directly below the stage. We went to dinner at a nearby restaurant in the Renaissance Center to continue conversing about the day’s events.

At that dinner, several executives asked me about the details of my program for corporate transformation, but there was no discussion of anyone’s first-car experience. After our discussion about the five tracks and GM, we began chatting about current events and anything else that emerged from our interaction.

When we made the switch from discussing work-related items to having casual dinner conversations, I decided to ask the executive sitting right next to me about what I thought I had observed at the very beginning of my presentation: “I’m curious. Maybe I read it wrong, but at the very start of my presentation, I happened to look down at the first-row table below me and it seemed that you executives were all whispering about something that seemed to produce concern or worry on your faces. Did I misread that, or was there, in fact, some nervousness about what I was about to present on the topic of corporate transformation?”

The executive replied: “I’m glad you asked me that, since, initially, we were very concerned about the features of your first car.” I was most surprised by his response and simply asked: “Why would the features of my first car possible concern you?” He responded in a way that I will never forget: “You first reminded us of the typical teenager in America who wants to learn how to drive a car, get his driver’s license, and then, ultimately, buy a car that he can call his own. As you were providing that context, we immediately wondered who the manufacturer of your first car was. We were whispering about how we would respond or what we would say if your first car was not made by General Motors, but was made, instead, by another manufacturer, such as Ford, Honda, Toyota, or Volvo. If your first car had been a non-GM car and you began your presentation to the UAW-GM Joint Training Conference by raving about another car company, it would have been quite an embarrassment for us. And in the beginning of your presenting that background about the cultural significance of a teenager’s first car, we couldn’t tell if YOUR first car was a GM car or something else. But when you finally announced the make of your first car, that it was a 1963 Chevy, we were all greatly relieved!”

Needless to say, it never entered my mind that that the senior executives on that front table might have been worried about whether I would wind up focusing on (thereby implicitly promoting) a car that was made by another auto manufacturer. I responded to the executive in this manner: “Oh my God. I had no clue that you would be worried about such a thing, but I now can see why. Let me assure you, I would NEVER have tried to connect with an audience, in this case, an audience of UAW and executives from GM, by touting another car manufacturer. No way. Yes, I did take my time in announcing the make and model of my first car, since I wanted to build some suspense and also make sure that everyone in the audience fully understood the importance of a person’s first car during their formative years. Since we never discussed how I would begin my presentation and what story I would tell to engage the audience and get their undivided attention, I can now see how concerned you and the other executive would have been. I guess you were super relieved when my first car turned out to be a Chevy!”

The executive concluded our side conversation: “You have no idea how worried we were, since we didn’t know where you were going with that story, and whether it would put a damper on your presentation, and embarrass us as well, from our having invited you to make that keynote presentation.”

From that behind-the-scenes discussion with that senior executive on the dinner table, from that moment onward, whenever I would be preparing to deliver a keynote presentation that would begin with a particular story to develop rapport with the audience, if there seemed to be any possibility that my story could raise any concerns or worries about what I was about to say next, I would first run that story by my sponsors BEFORE my presentation took place, so there would be no room for doubt or concern or worry during my presentation. In the end, I was so glad I explicitly asked about the whispers, facial expressions, and body language that I saw in the early part of my presentation, so I would know in the future when and how to prepare my sponsors for any stories or experiences that pertained to their products or services.

 

Kilmann Diagnostics offers a series of eleven recorded online courses and nine assessment tools on the four timeless topics: conflict management, change management, consciousness, and transformation. By taking these courses and passing the Final Exams, you can earn your Certification in Conflict and Change Management with the Thomas-Kilmann Instrument (TKI). For the most up-to-date and comprehensive discussion of Dr. Kilmann’s theories and methods, see his 2021 Legacy Book: Creating a Quantum Organization: The Whys & Hows of Implementing Eight Tracks for Long-term success.