URSABLOG: Presenting Stories

On Friday afternoon – at the end of an eventful and tiring week – Dionysios, our head of research, and I were sitting looking at a presentation we are cooking together for a meeting with clients of ours this week. We were looking at the fleet profiles of different sectors of the dry bulk carrier fleet, and trying to avoid concentrating on the usual “what happened in the past, what may happen in the future” type of presentation. I find this a rather futile type of exercise, because apart from the fact that past performance is no guide to future performance,  assumptions are misleading and can prove spectacularly wrong if they are accepted without examination.

I prefer presentations that tell a story: rather than relying on text telling people what I think they should do, I favour graphs and talking points so that the slides are the basis for discussion from which conclusions and plans of action can be made. In my experience, trying to sell a “pitch” or worse, concentrate on a particular product or idea we are trying to sell, leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

How we present our ideas is of paramount importance. I sat looking at one of the graphs wondering why it was rather bland and mute. We were plotting the amount of supply delivered from shipyards over the last twenty years or so. Although the amounts in terms of the cyclical trend were striking, the graph wasn’t speaking to me. Then I realised: the numbers we were using were in total deadweight rather than the actual number of ships. Total deadweight is extremely important in terms of supply and demand of ships and cargo, but in terms of our discussions – ship sale and purchase – it was a bit vague. I asked Dionysios to put another axis in showing the number of ships delivered each year, and suddenly – to me at least – the graph was alive.

Dionysios had also produced another graph – on my request – to try and show the relationship in changes to dry freight markets compared with changes in ship values. The graph – or at least the way Dionysios had compiled it – was striking. Rather proud of ourselves we showed it to Yiannis, our Managing Director. He looked at it and said “What if we compare it with what happened in the past? To see if it is consistent with previous phases of the market, or whether this time it is different?” It was a great idea, and depending on the results could lead to really interesting discussions about why and how values react to falls in the freight market, and whether there is a pattern we can look out for.

Later on, after Dionysios had left and as I was preparing to leave, I wondered why these tweaks meant so much. I think it is because we are always looking for stories to make sense our the world and our place in it, and we can use those stories to plot a way ahead. Showing the numbers of ships delivered in a certain year forces me to remember what was happening in the market at that time, and what the market felt like, to me at least. Other people may think differently. Likewise comparing today’s market conditions to different phases in the past can stimulate us into action or cause us to touch the wheel and change course slightly to avoid past mistakes.

It remains true – even if past performance is no guide to future performance – that stories are important. I was discussing with a friend recently whether she should go for an interview to an employer that was showing interest in her even though she was very happy in her current position.

“It’s risky,” she said, “and I don’t want to disrupt my current job if my employers find out one way or the other that I have had an interview.”

“Then don’t go,” I replied.

“But I don’t want to make the same mistake I did in my last job where I thought I was happy, and turned down interviews with other companies, and then things turned out bad and I wished I had at least found out what other work could be like. I cut myself off from other roads I could have taken because I didn’t come out of my comfort zone, which ultimately turned out to be toxic.”

“But things are different now. You have the experience of the toxic company, and how it ended, and you also know how it feels to be in a different, less toxic, more stable one now that respects you and your work, and more importantly isn’t manipulating your feelings. You can’t solve the dilemmas you have now just remembering what you would have done differently in the past in a different context. What’s the company that wants to interview you like? Is it a job you want?”

Further examination revealed that the company that wanted to interview her was pretty similar to the earlier toxic one, and the job was very much like the one she had before, and therefore should be avoided. But I was curious, on reflection, how it is that almost unconsciously – when faced with a fresh problem – the mind reaches for solutions that apply not to the present, but to the feelings of the past.

In order to decide whether to go to an interview in a company with an apparently toxic atmosphere, my friend applied the lessons she had learned previously – she should be open to opportunities – without realising that they were the solution to another problem, a problem that she had had, but didn’t have now. This problem was one she had experienced in the past but was being projected – perhaps unconsciously – onto to the company that wanted to interview her, which apparently had similar issues with toxicity. I think she was reacting to that feeling she had of the company, and the future problems she would face if she ended up going there. Whatever, the solution – going for an interview there – would be inappropriate in her current situation, working in a company where she is relaxed, and where her work is valued. But it was tempting.

It is not a great leap from these professional dilemmas to personal ones. When we start getting  together with a potential romantic partner, we vow not to make the same mistakes, and promise to ourselves that we are going to act differently this time so it won’t end in pain and heartbreak again, without actually questioning whether it is our attraction to a certain type, a certain profile of potential romantic partner that is the problem. In order to resolve this we have to re-examine our own histories, and our own stories that we tell ourselves, to find out whether we are doomed before we embark on a new relationship. If we find evidence that we may be, maybe we should question whether the criteria for our choices, and indeed how we react to our feelings, should change.

Our memories are notoriously unreliable and can persuade us to ignore or reject different roads we can take. In fact I would suggest that our memories are biased towards how we felt at a certain time, rather than remembering the facts of what was actually happening. These feelings, combined with the results – happy or unfortunate – that came after those decisions or actions were taken, can misinform us as to whether those actions were wise or not, or whether they could have been adjusted, tweaked or otherwise improved upon.

But we are always already in the world, and often we have little time to reflect on whether there are alternatives courses to take, or even on the likely consequences of taking a certain familiar road that we are comfortable with just because it feels familiar.

Selling at the top of the market is counterintuitive because we are all having a great time, and buying at the bottom is extremely difficult because times are – by definition – tough. Being tempted to an interview for a new job in a new toxic workplace because you didn’t in the past because you had yet to find out how toxic the place you were working in actually was is understandable, but the temptation needs to be fought against otherwise what you have gained in the meantime – peace of mind and fulfilment – as well as valuable experience and lessons learnt could be at risk, and ultimately be lost. Desire for the rush of a new love, desire for the familiar feeling of being lost in romance may drown out all the alarm bells ringing in your head, because you are determined, this time, to not make the same mistakes. This time you will do it differently. But your actions will probably lead to the same old result because you have not questioned the reasons why you want this particular person, and why it will probably end in pain and disappointment again.

This is why we need context; we can’t just rely on our own wisdom, we need others’. A graph showing a period of your professional life may, as well as illustrating how the market acted at the time, bring back memories of how you acted, or didn’t act at the time, and may even lead you to think how you felt and question why. Maybe this will lead you to explore whether your next action, or inaction, will end happily or otherwise. Friends who can remind you, gently or otherwise, how they saw your actions – professional, personal, romantic – at a certain time, can provide invaluable insights that may lead you to think, and feel, differently. More than that, art – whether it’s film, books, paintings, opera, sculpture, theatre, music, podcasts even – can inspire us to question what we really think, and what we really know. Spoiler alert: wisdom comes when we realise what we don’t know.

I’m looking forward to working with – and presenting with – Dionysios this week. The work we have done has already brought up many areas for discussion – and fresh ideas – even though we have tried to put strict limits on what we want to discuss. Dionysios insists that all significant accomplishments originate from curiosity. I am curious to see what new insights, and stories, we will take from the discussions our research will – hopefully – stimulate.

Simon Ward