10:00. We open the presentation.

10:03. Someone prefers the other photograph.

10:07. Someone asks whether the offer includes the first visit.

10:11. Someone suggests a different audience.

10:16. We return to the photograph.

10:22. Nobody is entirely certain which decision the meeting is meant to produce.

I have fictionalised the scene, but the rhythm is familiar. A meeting can contain thoughtful people, useful observations and very little actual approval.

The comments are not all asking for the same response. That is where things tend to unravel.

The offer question needs a factual answer. The photograph preference needs consideration in context. The new audience suggestion may change the scope. Mixing them into a single feedback pile leaves the person preparing the next version with a surprisingly creative interpretation task.

A second attempt at 10:00

This time, the invitation says we need to choose between two headline options for an already agreed offer. The relevant service condition is attached. The page destination is visible.

We begin by confirming the fact. If the visit arrangement hasn't been settled, we admit the headline decision may need to wait. A pleasing sentence built around an uncertain promise isn't ready to approve.

Then we look at each option where it will actually appear. The headline has supporting copy, an image and an action. It is easier to judge the customer's understanding there than in giant type on a blank slide.

The person who dislikes the photograph explains why. Perhaps it suggests a visit when the first step is a phone conversation. That is useful feedback. Perhaps they simply prefer a different colour palette. That can be considered too, but it doesn't automatically reopen the whole offer.

The audience suggestion gets its own decision. Is it relevant to this release? Who will investigate it? Does the current brief need changing?

We don't have to pretend the suggestion never happened. We do have to prevent it becoming an unannounced instruction buried inside a headline review.

The closing minute earns its place

I like leaving with a record short enough that the production team will actually use it.

  • The chosen version.
  • The reason it fits the agreed task.
  • Any factual correction required.
  • The colleague who will confirm that correction.
  • The next review, if one is needed.

If we couldn't decide, I want the missing information named just as clearly. “Need confirmation that the first visit is included” is actionable. “More discussion required” mostly schedules another occasion to feel confused.

This is also where a chair can help a quieter colleague. A specific decision creates space for a useful question without making them compete with a stream of preferences.

I don't want tightly managed meetings to become unfriendly. People should be able to raise a concern. The structure exists to help the concern reach the right answer.

The imaginary minutes, revised

10:00. We confirm the offer.

10:05. We review the headline options in the page.

10:15. We select a version, subject to one factual correction.

10:20. We record who checks the correction and who publishes.

At that point, everybody knows what happens next. The meeting may have been shorter or longer than planned. It has at least produced something firmer than a list of things people said.

There will still be awkward reviews. There will still be the occasional file named “final-really-final.” We are human, and apparently naming files is where our optimism goes to exercise.

But a meeting can end with a usable answer. It takes a clear purpose, some patient sorting and a closing minute that doesn't get sacrificed because we're all already late for the next one.

Worth the effort, even when the photograph discussion has been a bit of a faff.

Grainne Pollak
About the author

Marketing Manager

I write about briefs, meeting-room observations and the pleasure of leaving with a decision somebody can use.

A thought worth keeping?