We all know leaders who are technically brilliant—but hopeless in front of a crowd. One of our friends had a big pitch looming, and he knew he wasn’t ready. He’d been putting off proper training, and now the pressure was on. Unfortunately, this is not uncommon. We hope our skills will magically hold up under pressure, but presenting under pressure is a different beast entirely.

Leaders are the face of the company, whether they like it or not. Their words, presence and delivery become a public reflection of everything the organisation stands for. If we ramble, fumble, stumble or come across as unsure, people don’t just judge us—they judge the entire brand. It’s brutal, but it’s reality.

This is the age of visibility. Everyone’s a broadcaster. TikTok, YouTube, LinkedIn, Instagram—leaders are on camera more than ever. There’s nowhere to hide. Even at a PTA meeting or a casual talk, people are evaluating us. That throwaway moment might become their lasting impression of the business.

The problem? Many leaders still think good technical skills will carry them. That’s outdated thinking. You might be great at what you do, but if you can’t express it with authority, confidence, and clarity, people will underestimate your value—and your organisation’s reputation takes a hit.

We’ve seen it all. The confident speaker who’s “good enough” and never pushes further. The reluctant presenter who knows they’re exposed but delays training until it’s almost too late. Both are missing massive upside. Polished communication isn’t a nice-to-have anymore. It’s mission-critical in today’s hyper social media and presenting world.

Training gives you more than the skills. It gives you confidence, structure, message clarity, and the tools to show up consistently strong—regardless of the room or the moment. This isn’t about winging it. It’s about walking in knowing you’ll land it, every time.

So, stop gambling with your personal brand. Don’t rely on last-minute favours from a friend or your own delusional overconfidence. Get the training. Own the skill. It pays off every time you speak, pitch, or lead. This is what professionals do—and it’s available to every leader willing to get serious. Let’s get to work.

When we are on stage, the visuals can make or break us. People often ask us at Dale Carnegie: how much is too much when it comes to slides? Let’s keep it simple: your visuals should support you, not compete with you. We want the audience’s attention on us, not the screen. That means stripping it back. Paragraphs? No. Sentences? Preferably not. Bullet points, single words, or strong images work best. Say less, so you can talk more.

Follow the two-second rule. If your audience can’t “get it” in two seconds, it’s too complicated. Think clean, punchy and minimal. The six-by-six rule is a good anchor: no more than six lines per slide, and no more than six words per line. And fonts? Go big. Try 44-point for titles and 32-point for text. Then test it from the back of the room. If you can’t read it, no one else can either.

Use sans serif fonts like Arial—they’re easier to read than fancier serif fonts. Avoid shouting at your audience with all caps. Use bold, underline and italics sparingly. These are tools to emphasise—not to overwhelm.

When it comes to builds and animations, either reveal one idea at a time or present all the information at once. But be consistent. Don’t make your content jump around. Confusion is not a learning style.

Images are gold. A sharp, relevant photo can say what three slides can’t. Once your audience sees the point of the picture in two seconds, you can then talk to it. Use bar graphs for comparisons, line charts for change over time, and pie charts for parts of a whole—but keep it simple. Too many variables and even a pie chart becomes a mess.

Colours are the trap most presenters fall into. Black, blue, and green work well. Stay away from red, orange, and grey—especially red, which often disappears on screen. The contrast is everything.

Slide decks reveal the pro instantly. The polished know what works and why. The rest, the great unwashed? They give the game away before they even open their mouths. Let’s not be in that camp. Let’s keep it sharp, tight, and professional.

Let’s set the scene. You’ve built trust with the buyer, asked the right questions, and uncovered their real challenges. You’ve done the hard yards and earned the right to present a solution. This is the moment you’ve been working toward—and it’s also the moment many salespeople blow it.

We don’t open with the nitty gritty detail of the specs. That’s amateur hour. We start with our capability statement. We confirm that we have what they need and that we have the capacity to deliver. If we don’t, we say so. We walk away. Stop trying to force the square peg into the round hole. Instead, go find the right client.

If it is a fit, we go deeper. We don’t just dump product features—we link each key feature to a benefit. And then we take that benefit and apply it directly to the client’s business. We climb that value ladder. We paint the picture of how their business improves because of what we bring to the table.

Still, they are buyers, so they are sceptical. Fair enough. They’ve been burnt before. That’s why we present real evidence. Case studies. Outcomes. Social proof. We remove doubt with stories that land about other buyers just like them and how we helped them. We must bring in the stories. Sales without stories is forgettable. We tie in real examples, real people, and vivid detail. This isn’t just information—it’s transformation.

We don’t forget the trial close: “How does that sound so far?” It’s low pressure, but very high value. It doesn’t feel like we are “closing” them”. It surfaces the doubts and lets us resolve them before they become silent deal-killers.

Remember, our aim isn’t a one-off deal. It’s a trusted partnership. Reorders. Referrals. Long-term wins. That’s what the pros go after. They don’t spry, and pray and say goodbye. They craft, connect, and close.

Let’s not waste the chance we’ve earned to win the trust of the buyer to serve them forever. Let’s make that solution presentation sing. Make it count.

Every year, we reset with lofty goals: hit targets, get promoted, improve ourselves. But what if the real breakthrough comes not from inward goals, but outward transformation? This year, let’s become the catalyst for others. Let’s become the light on the hill that lifts the whole team. Rather than finding faults bosses, let's become serial encouragers. We can choose to see others not through their failures, but through their struggles—and their strengths.

Workplaces should not be rife with politics, blame games, or backstabbing. They should be zones of mutual respect, support, and growth. That starts with how we, as leaders, see others. If we approach them with criticism as our default, we kill trust. But if we become “good finders,” we elevate the whole environment. Everyone is carrying invisible burdens—personal, financial, emotional. Leaders must remember that they, too, are imperfect and benefit from leniency. So why deny that understanding to others? Always see staff through the prism of how you were at their age and stage.

Japan’s surface calm hides tremendous internal pressure. Its culture of modesty and conformity can suppress people’s potential. Many live lives of quiet desperation. This year, let’s get off our high horse. Let’s guide people, not grade them. Let’s praise the small steps. Encourage risk. Celebrate growth. Stretch their Comfort Zones without punishing the stumbles.

Drop the complaints. Replace them with gratitude, recognition, and positivity. Shift your language to uplift rather than critique. Be the beacon others can look to—not for perfection—but for permission to grow. As leaders, we are often waiting for others to improve. We stand in front of the empty fireplace and complain its cold. But how’s that working out? Instead, let’s become the spark. Decide to be the world you want to see, then lead from that space.

Being “the light” is not about ego—it’s about service. It is about helping others find their strength, purpose, and potential. That’s the real leadership revolution. Let’s make this year different, not just for ourselves—but for everyone around us.

If this too fluffy for you, then good luck with recruiting and retaining staff in a rapidly diminishing supply employment market. It is only going to get more desperate and so retaining people is the key.

In this Age of Distraction, we’ve got seconds to win our audience’s attention—or lose it. When we’re unclear, rambling, blathering or long-winded, the audience bolts for their phones. If we’re not concise and clear, there’s zero chance of being persuasive, because no one is listening. That’s why structure and delivery matter more than ever.

We often dive too deep into our subject and forget the audience hasn’t followed the same path. That’s where the trouble starts. We confuse them, and they mentally check out. We need to set the topic clearly and grab their attention fast. The opening must be dynamite—wake them up, spark interest, and demand attention.

Then we break the content into five-minute chunks. Each block needs a switch—a story, visual, quote, or killer question—to re-engage. Every point we make must come with proof: data, examples, evidence. Don’t just say it—back it up. Data needs stories and stories need data.

The structure must flow logically. Choose a formula—chronological, thematic, problem-solution-result—and stick to it. Use verbal bridges between sections to guide the audience. “We’ve looked at X, now let’s move to Y.” Without these guideposts, listeners can get lost and mentally leave you.

Timing is our best friend. Rehearsing with a stopwatch forces us to refine our message. We learn to trim fat, sharpen our language, and focus only on what matters. That’s how we avoid running over and skipping key points. We all hate the presenter who rushes through thirty slides in two minutes because they have lost control of the time.

We end powerfully—with two closes. One before the Q&A to hammer home our message, and a final close that leaves them with a resonant takeaway. If we want to be persuasive, we must be sharp, structured, and intentional.

Let’s drop the fluff, build flow, and craft messages people actually remember and can act on

The distance between wanting to buy and actually buying is often vast. Business leaders all have goals, but constraints around money, people, and bandwidth hold them back. The higher up we go, the more strategic the thinking. The CEO is concerned with the future. The CFO focuses on cash this quarter. Line managers just want to hit their numbers and hold on to their team. HR? In Japan, they’re often passive—gatekeepers and internal rule police, not champions of change.

If a buyer feels their current situation and their desired future aren’t too far apart, urgency disappears. No pressure on them so no decision. And doing nothing is always the easiest option. It’s not just about money—it’s also about fear. A purchase can trigger more work, risk, or reveal gaps in capacity. In sales, we need to draw attention to the cost of inaction.

But it doesn’t work if we just tell them. We’re salespeople. They’ll doubt our motives. From their side, they have to tell usthe gap is real—and unacceptable to them. That’s why we ask smart, reflective questions. “What happens if you can’t get there fast enough?” We bring speed into focus because nobody gets there as fast as they want. “What happens if you can’t clear that obstacle?” That’s where we come in with our solution lineup. We speed things up and make success smoother.

We also bring it to the personal level. “If this fails, what does it mean for your team?” Buyers in Japan often avoid talking about personal risk, so we need to connect it to group outcomes.

Our goal isn’t to push—it’s to guide them to the realization that they need help to bridge the gap. Once they see that, they’re open. Now we’re not just selling—they’re buying. The shift is subtle, but it changes everything. Ask the right questions, and the urgency to act starts to belong to them.

Stupid people in organizations aren’t always easy to spot. They can appear confident, energetic, and articulate in interviews, fooling even the most seasoned managers. But over time, their lack of insight and poor judgment start surfacing. These individuals often speak before they think, overwhelming those around them with bluster and assertiveness instead of substance. Their loudness masks a lack of critical thinking, and in brainstorming sessions, they dominate through sheer brute volume rather than value. This becomes toxic when the time comes to sift, weigh and refine ideas. They insist on pushing their opinions forward, not because they are better, but because they are louder. Smart, reflective, deep thinker team members get drowned out. This is where you need a neutral facilitator who can help ensure all voices are heard.

A more insidious version of stupid is the person who seems smart. They’re articulate, appear capable, and are often trusted. But they lack analytical depth. They don’t seize opportunities, fail to offer key insights, or leave critical value failure unnoted. Clients eventually notice what was missing. They realize too late they didn’t receive full value. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” becomes the damning question.

This damages brand credibility, kills trust, and alienates clients. These brand assassins persist because of poor leadership—bosses too busy, too trusting, or too unaware to course-correct. In some cases, the boss is also underqualified. Add a weak internal system for developing analytical and decision-making skills, and mediocrity becomes embedded.

Worst of all, stupid people rarely know they’re the problem. That factor is a big one and it makes them especially dangerous. And unfortunately, you may already be working with one. Or worse—reporting to one.

We watched a big-name company blow a golden opportunity. The speaker was the President, and he had a dramatic story to tell—corporate crisis, media attacks, public apologies, and a redemption arc. Yet his presentation landed like a lead balloon. Why? Because he delivered it in a lifeless monotone, with no energy, emotion, or storytelling. It was a flat narrative built around a dull slide deck that never got lift off.

This wasn’t just a bad speech—it was a brand-damaging catastrophe of a speech. And it reminds of David Ogilvy’s tomato soup story: when asked why he didn’t promote Campbell’s tomato soup, he replied, “Because it’s orange and not very good. If we promote it, more people will try it and be disappointed.” The same applies to presentations. If your delivery is a joke, the more people see it, the more damage you do—to yourself and to your company.

Presenting isn’t just about dumping data. Data needs stories, and stories need data. When the audience doesn’t feel the highs and lows, they switch off. What could’ve been a high-impact brand moment became a forgettable, torturous monologue.

Imagine telling that company’s comeback like a Disney rollercoaster—diving into abject failure, hurtling through the black hole of public scrutiny, then soaring high into the heavens with recovery and growth. That’s how you win hearts, minds, and loyalty.

Treat every talk as a critical branding moment. Speak with conviction, inject passion, and embody your message with voice and body language. Be the story, not just the storyteller. Because audiences remember stories, not stats. They remember nothing other than how you made them feel.

Make sure your message—and its delivery—are irresistible, because you’re building your brand every time you speak.