Sunday, January 17, 2010

The art of the input session

I'm sitting at a table of about 15 people, all of them talking about what their organization stands for. They're collectively working very hard to help me "understand." I'm saying as little as possible, trying to be a bottomless receptacle. I don't want to take them in any one direction. I want to see where they will go on their own. Mostly, I listen and nod.

They talk and they talk and they talk. We're not capturing anything; no easels, no white boards. (But I am unobtrusively running my digital recorder.)

About an hour into this group effort, someone at the end of the table says something that rings true and pure to my ears. I don't remember the exact words, but it was in three parts, like "We are people who believe A, B and C. Very different from those who go in the direction of X, Y and Z. And therefore, what we do is 1, 2 and 3."

Instantly I know I've got what I came for. As soon as this person finishes talking, someone decides to call me out. He says, "So are you getting any of this?" To which I respond:

"I think our message is that we are people who believe A, B and C. Very different from those who go in the direction of X, Y and Z. And therefore, what we do is 1, 2 and 3."

I was very careful to repeat, exactly, the sentences I had just heard. I thought it would be funny. I thought we would all have a great laugh. But no one even smiled. They just stared at me. And I realized they hadn't heard what I had heard. They were taking this as my distillation of everything that had been said. Then, as one, they exhaled. They took their elbows off the table and leaned back in their chairs. They smiled, not in a ha-ha way, but more like "whew..." And one of them said, "You see! THAT is why we brought a writer to this meeting."

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Though I wasn't at THAT meeting, I've sure been to that meeting!

Bill Seyle said...

Thanks for commenting, Bill. Writing this blog is like putting messages in a bottle and tossing them into the sea. And then, one day, a bottle comes back, with a note attached to something I wrote.