When I started cooking as a kid, I loved to try new recipes and even make up some of my own. I lived for the praise I hoped to get at the moment of truth, when I served my dish. I knew something wasn’t right when my stepmother would say, It has good flavor.
Now, those words may look innocent enough, but my first reaction was always to retort, But it looks like crap?
Years ago, I sometimes helped my former mother-in-law serve food when she catered large events. Although the food always tasted good, what really set it apart was its presentation. Sometimes I thought we spent as much time arranging each platter as my MIL had spent preparing it. (Did you know that a cheese tray looks terrific on a bed of red, curly lettuce? Or that there’s even such a thing as red, curly lettuce?)
I never minded helping her because her customers were always so profuse with their compliments.
When I lived in Germany, I tried hard to make sure I spoke using good grammar, but as a non-native speaker, I regularly made mistakes. What I did master was the accent. To this day, I have friends who tell me I speak perfectly, even as I stumble over an adjective ending. They just don’t hear it because the sound is right.
One of the toughest things to get used to in my job was formatting my work a certain way–even the drafts and the internal stuff. At first the requirement seemed like overkill, but eventually it sank in and became a habit. Now it comes almost naturally.
One day it all came together.
After reviewing some documents I had presented to a client, he remarked about how pleased he was with them–especially the format. I never get anything this well put together, he said. I expected to work on this, but I can share this with my colleagues just as you’ve given it to me. I am so impressed.
Time after time I am reminded that presentation is half the battle. If you make it look right, sound right, act right–whatever it is–people are more receptive to the content. The package is part of the experience, and people eat with their eyes first.