You are at a networking event, a conference, a workshop, or a neighborhood party, and someone walks up and asks the most predictable question on planet Earth: “What do you do?” This post is about what to say instead of the usual stumbling answer or snoozefest, with help from my mentor Mark Levy, the chap who actually helped Simon Sinek find his why.
Meet the one person on Earth who loves this question
I met the one human on planet Earth who actually loves being asked “What do you do?” His name is Mark Levy. He has shaped my thinking over the years, and his claim to fame is being the person who helped Simon Sinek find his why.
In the past, something very strange would happen to Mark when important people at conferences asked him what he did. He would start to laugh. Not hysterically, just a stifled giggle. And when they asked what was wrong, he would say this:
“Do you know how people hate being asked what they do because they have to answer it, and they’re all nervous and they dread it? I’m the exact opposite. I’m laughing, and I apologize. I don’t do this on purpose. But I know that when I answer your question, you are going to be so interested in what I do that we are going to have a really interesting conversation and maybe become friends.”
He said 100 percent of the time, the other person would answer, “Oh, you’re right,” and start asking for more.
The elevator pitch is smaller than you think
People find elevator pitches intimidating because they don’t understand what they are actually for. Mark traces one version back to 1979, when quality guru Philip Crosby added a line to the paperback of The Art of Getting Your Own Sweet Way: if you get into an elevator with Mr. or Mrs. Big, you should be able to tell them who you are and what you are working on in case you ever need resources from them.
The mistake most people make is asking too much of their elevator pitch. They think it has to justify their existence on Earth. It doesn’t.
The elevator speech is a simple communication tool. It is the salesman’s foot in the door from the 1950s. Its only job is to get you a couple of steps closer, so the door doesn’t close on you.
You should not have one elevator speech. You should have many. Different versions for who you are, what you do, for each product, each service, and each audience. When you lower what it has to do, it becomes easier to deliver.
Clarity first, magic second
People come to Mark asking for magic. A point of differentiation. A line that changes everything. Mark tells them, “Clarity first, magic second. And sometimes the clarity is the magic.”
One of his clients, Tamsen, is a neuroscientist, executive coach, and keynoter. Her pitch used to be too fancy. They simplified it to the clear essence of what she does. One day she was in a coworking space, called a stranger she had learned was also keynoting at the same conference she was booked at, and used the new version:
“I’m a neuroscientist. I study habits inside of organizations. I work with leaders and their teams on helping them get rid of the habits that are hindering them and develop stronger habits that help them become better leaders, better marketers, better strategists, whatever they need to strengthen their job. So that’s what I do.”
While Tamsen was still speaking, an entrepreneur who did not know her whirled around in her chair from six feet away, gave her two big thumbs up, and said, “Wow.”
That is what a good pitch does. Not a sale. A wow.
Let them put you in a box
A lot of people will tell you not to box yourself in when answering “What do you do?” because you’ll get lumped in with other people. Mark disagrees. And so do I.
When you are with people in person, they want to pigeonhole you. They want to put you in a box. Let them. It helps their shoulders relax.
Every year I host the Connectors Summit, and I work with people whose jobs are to gather other people. The roles are ambiguous. If you tell someone you are a “connector,” they say, “What?” That confusion is not a gift to them. Find the box that lets their shoulders relax. Give them something to put you in. The conversation is not over. You are just letting them breathe.
Here is what happens when you try too hard. When you answer “What do you do?” with something fancy like “I’m a connecting sherpa,” the person across from you hears something else. They hear, “This human does not trust what they do. They are trying to sell me. I did not give them permission to sell to me.” Mark puts it bluntly. The first thing he wants to do is leave. Your fancy line made you less, not more.
The two-part format: “I am a…, but I do it in a very unusual way”
Mark built a format 20 years ago that he still teaches. It goes like this.
Step 1: Put yourself in a box. Say the plain-vanilla version.
“I’m a facilitator. I work with groups and organizations.” “I’m a leadership consultant. I help leaders make decisions. I’ve worked with American Express.”
Step 2: Signal there is more. Add one line.
“But I do it in a very unusual way.”
If they are interested, they will ask, “How so?” That is your permission slip. If they don’t ask, the conversation begins somewhere else and you haven’t forced anything.
Step 3: Problem, problem, inverse. This is classic sales letter structure. Do not lead with what you do. Lead with the problem.
“You know how when you’re in a meeting and important things have to get done, but arguments break out? And it gets worse, because then people sometimes resent each other and carry that resentment for months or even years. I make sure that never happens when I’m facilitating.”
Then you describe the inverse, which is the work.
The “you know how when” homework
Matt Church, another mentor of mine, used to say, “Never leave a meeting with anything to do.” So let’s not leave this post without something to do.
Here is the homework Mark gives his clients. Get a blank page or your phone’s voice memo app. Start with the words, “You know how when…” Now paint a detailed picture of the person you help, having the problem you solve. Go for a minute. Be specific. Then do it again. And again. Differently each time.
What people find revelatory about this exercise is that it releases the pressure to be brilliant. You are not talking about yourself. You are talking about the problem and the person having it. That is what lets the other person actually see you.
Want to meet Mark live? Register your interest for the Connectors Summit.
Drop your “I am a…” in the comments
Before the “you know how when” step is the piece most people skip: the box. So try it.
Finish this sentence: “I am a ____.”
Use a word another human could actually recognize. Not something cute. Not something philosophical. Not even something clever or metaphorical. Feel the discomfort if you are used to squeezing yourself into a long, verb-heavy description. Drop yours in the comments on the video. Over time, we will build a little library of “I am a…” answers from the connectors, leaders, and gatherers in this community.
Save the best for last: honest details
Mark closed our conversation with a story that you should hear.
He was at dinner with a client near a big speaker conference. A group of conference attendees walked in, recognized his client’s face, and one of them came over and asked, “What do you do?”
Mark jumped in. Instead of a polished pitch, he told her the truth. Years ago, his client was a computer programmer doing work for the military. He wrote a program that would dramatically improve troop deployment. He was so proud that he ran it down to the Pentagon. The general he worked with wasn’t there, but a woman in the office was. He explained what he had built.
Instead of celebrating, she yelled at him. She told him he was there to get her and her colleagues out of a job. She screamed at him for doing his job.
Walking out, he thought to himself, “I am so concerned with my work product, my Xs and Os. It is really the people who will make something work or not.” He changed his whole career and went into change management.
When Mark finished the story, the woman at the table said, “Oh, wow.”
When he looked up, the other four people from that group were lined up behind her, one behind the other, waiting. “What are you guys doing?” Mark asked. “We heard he has this brilliant story about who he is and what he does. We wanted to hear it.”
Mark’s line on this is worth writing down. “There are interesting, honest details about what you do that you think are really boring. If you just told people about them, they would freak out.”
That wasn’t troop deployment. That was truth deployment.
Want to go deeper?
Register your interest for the Connectors Summit this December, a live virtual experience where facilitators, trainers, and leaders come together to practice, connect, and reset. Mark and I are in talks right now about him facilitating something brilliant there.
And if you have been paying attention, the Future Focused We! Connect Cards would not exist without Mark. A year of working together landed us on the idea that conversations aren’t just for connecting people. They are edit buttons to the future.
But if we met on an airplane, I’d do you a favor and simply say, “I’m a professional speaker, but my keynotes are quite unusual compared to most.”
Concrete buy curiosity inducing. Your turn!
