The Roman Columns Identified

There were two Roman Columns in the analyst’s question for Nadella: Microsoft’s differentiation (how the company took pains to help its customers in a crisis period) and its growth/outlook (how the crisis period affected Microsoft’s revenues).

Nadella nailed both in his answer:

[T]he approach we take is really to be there for our customers at their time of most acute need. So, we don’t go in there with the mindset of what does it mean for our revenue.³

The Roman Column in the analyst’s question for Elon Musk was about the timing of Tesla’s update on its Model 3.

Elon also Musk nailed it in his answer:

[A]ny information that we provide would be a week or two in advance of what will become public knowledge.⁴

The Roman Column in Marisa’s question (“…how can you help us, if you don’t know what we’re feeling?”), was how each of the candidates, given that they had no personal experience with the nation’s economic problems, could solve them.

Did you find the Roman Column? Don’t worry if you didn’t. Whenever I show the video of that debate in the Suasive program, I pause the clip and ask the participants the same question I just asked you. Over the years, I’ve repeated that same exercise with many participants, but only about a quarter of them answer correctly. The rest get sidetracked by the discussion of the national debt and recession. They think that the Roman Column is only about how the national debt or recession has affected the candidates personally. This is close, but no cigar.

The cigar is: How can you help us?

The “how” in Marisa’s question was the very same word she uttered to stop Bush in his tracks during the debate. She also had another “how”: how those economic problems affected the candidates personally. But this second “how,” although posed first, was subordinate to her primary concern: whether the three candidates—two of whom were multimillionaires and the third a career politician with two terms as a governor—could provide solutions to the country’s economic problems when they clearly had none of their own.

Marisa asked her question twice, referring to the solution she was seeking first as “a cure” and then as “help.” Her first time was while Bush was looking at his watch:

How has the national debt personally affected each of your lives? And if it hasn’t, how can you honestly find a cure for the economic problems of the common people if you have no experience in what’s ailing them?

The second time was when, after four failed attempts, Bush asked her to clarify her question, and she responded:

How has it affected you and, if you have no experience in it, how can you help us, if you don’t know what we’re feeling?

Bush actually touched on Marisa’s main concern twice during his exchange with her. First, as he struggled to understand her question:

Are you suggesting that if somebody has means that the national debt doesn’t affect them?

But he couched his question about her question so defensively and with such a negative slant that he backed himself into a corner and could not extricate himself. Instead, he simply gave up and asked the young woman to restate her question. After she did, he circled around the ability issue again during his rambling answer:

I don’t think it’s fair to say, “You haven’t had cancer. Therefore, you don’t know what it’s like.” I don’t think it’s fair to say, you know, whatever it is, that if you haven’t been hit by it personally.⁵

The negative formation of his words—three “don’ts,” two “haven’ts,” and the reference to a fatal disease—put him into reverse gear, unable to turn his answer positive.

As a matter of fact, none of the three candidates dealt specifically with the question of ability. They all went directly to their solutions; an acceptable shift because Marisa was seeking “a cure for the economic problems of the common people.”

Now let’s see how Ross Perot responded.

When Marisa finished asking her question, Perot volunteered:

May I answer that?

Simpson approved:

Well, Mr. Perot, yes, of course.

Perot asked:

Who do you want to start with?

Marisa explained:

My question is for each of you, so…

Perot took the floor:

It caused me to disrupt my private life and my business to get involved in this activity. That’s how much I care about it.…I want these young people up here to be able to start with nothing but an idea like I did and build a business. But they’ve got to have a strong basic economy and if you’re in debt, it’s like having a ball and chain around you.

At that moment, the camera cut to an image of Marisa nodding as Perot continued:

I just figure, as lucky as I’ve been, I owe it to them and I owe it to the future generations and on a very personal basis, I owe it to my children and grandchildren.⁶

Despite Perot’s succinct, empathic, and completely relevant answer, Bush took his turn next with an answer that was far enough off target to invite her interruption and, after four tries, created the perception that he wasn’t listening.

It got still worse for Bush. Following his rambling answer and awkward exchange, Clinton’s turn came. As the incumbent headed back to his stool, the challenger rose from his and walked toward Marisa, addressing her directly:

Tell me how it’s affected you again.

His approach put Marisa at a momentary loss for words:

Um…

Continuing toward her, Clinton prodded her memory:

You know people who’ve lost their jobs and lost their homes.

She agreed:

Well, yeah, uh-huh.⁷

“Well, yeah, uh-huh.” She could just as well have said, “You were listening!” In that one pivotal moment, Clinton became the complete opposite of Bush. In that one pivotal moment, the die was cast for the dark horse challenger’s victory at the expense of the incumbent.

The moment was a long time in the making. Clinton’s movement, eye contact, and body language were intentional. As Clinton’s campaign manager, James Carville, described in his memoir:

We did practice having the governor get off his stool and walk down to make contact with the man or woman asking the question…we would always remind him, “Go talk to that person. Be engaged in what he has to say.”⁸

As soon as Clinton heard Marisa say, “Well, yeah, uh-huh,” he seized the initiative and ran with it:

Well, I’ve been governor of a small state for 12 years. I’ll tell you how it’s affected me. Every year Congress and the president sign laws that make us do more things and gives us less money to do it with.

Now Clinton shifted into overdrive. He made his entire point of view identical with that of the young woman:

I see people in my state, middle class people—their taxes have gone up in Washington and their services have gone down while the wealthy have gotten tax cuts. I have seen what’s happened in this last four years when—in my state, when people lose their jobs, there’s a good chance I’ll know them by their names. When a factory closes, I know the people who ran it. When the businesses go bankrupt, I know them.

And I’ve been out here for 13 months meeting—in meetings just like this ever since October, with people like you all over America…

When Clinton said, “people like you,” the camera cut to Marisa nodding her head silently. She could just as well have leaned into the microphone again and said, “You were listening!”

Clinton rolled on:

…people that have lost their jobs, lost their livelihood, lost their health insurance. What I want you to understand is the national debt is not the only cause of that.

Even though Simpson had, during Bush’s answer, tactfully and tacitly corrected the young woman’s confusion of the national debt and the recession, Clinton took the opportunity to repeat the young woman’s original words, “the national debt,” and, in doing so, he validated her rather than correct her. Then he continued:

It is because America has not invested in its people. It is because we have not grown. It is because we’ve had 12 years of trickledown economics. We’ve gone from first to twelfth in the world in wages. We’ve had four years where we’ve produced no private sector jobs. Most people are working harder for less money than they were making ten years ago.

At that moment, the camera cut to a close-up of Bush, agape, knowing that Clinton was scoring points with his words:

It is because we are in the grip of a failed economic theory. And this decision you’re about to make better be about what kind of economic theory you want, not just people saying I’m going to go fix it but what are we going to do? I think what we have to do is invest in American jobs, American education, control American health care costs, and bring the American people together again.

Clinton heard both of Marisa’s concerns loud and clear. He addressed each Roman Column, beginning his answer with the first: how the “national debt” affected him:

Well, I’ve been governor of a small state for 12 years. I’ll tell you how it’s affected me…

And concluded his answer with the second: his solutions, articulated by the action verb “do”—four ways:

I think what we have to do is invest in American jobs, American education, control American health care costs, and bring the American people together again.

Actually, Bush also acknowledged his empathy and offered his solutions at the very end of his answer:

I think in terms of the recession, of course you feel it when you’re President of the United States. And that’s why I’m trying to do something about it by stimulating the export, vesting more, better education systems.

But his “do” words came at the tail end of his one minute and ten-second answer—after his false start, after four bungled attempts, two interruptions, a tangential discussion, and a digressive ramble—by which time it was far too late. Clinton and Perot did not get to their solutions until the ends of their answers, either, but each of them started his answer in the first person, thereby empathizing with Marisa’s concern about their abilities. Bush, on the other hand, began his answer by going global:

Well, I think the national debt affects everybody.

By generalizing, the president, in effect, distanced himself from the economic problems. Worse, in doing so, he ignored one of Marisa’s Roman Columns, which evoked her fateful follow-on question and, in turn, sent the message that he wasn’t listening. Imagine if Bush had begun his answer with his final words:

I’m trying to do something about it by stimulating the export, vesting more, better education systems.⁹

When Clinton came bounding off his stool toward Marisa to ask her, “Tell me how it’s affected you again?” he evoked her “Well, yeah, uh-huh,” response. And when, three sentences later, he began his answer with, “I’ll tell you how it’s affected me…” he sent the message that he had listened.

Emulate Clinton in your Q&A sessions: Listen carefully to your audience’s questions and evoke your own equivalents of “Well, yeah, uh-huh.”