Questions are the best! They get answers, and they bring us closer to each other with the telling.

Here’s a quick example. It’s the midmorning break at a design conference. I’m standing in line for coffee when the guy behind me says:

“How’s your day going?”
“Great, beautiful day.”
“I love those socks! Where’d you get ’em?”
“Oh, thank you! I got them at this new shop that’s…”

Now we have a whole new area to explore, it’s about design, but beyond design at the same time. Starting with socks, we can move to delightful shopping experiences, our choice in clothes, or explore what we like to do outside the office. Best of all, I just made a friend at a conference full of strangers.

Sometimes that happens, and it’s a great way to get to know each other and strengthen our connection. But more often than not, in the world of creative services, our day-to-day is more like the following.

The Google screen opens.

“Hi, great to see you, it’s been a while.” You nod in agreement, and before you can speak…

“I’m in a bit of a hurry and in need of a deck for that healthcare event. Do you guys have time? I need it the end of next week.”

Classic, right?

Client is in a hurry, and the request –– seemingly –– gives us little maneuvering room to do anything other than say yes or no.

The thing is, when clients ask us for a slide deck, their goal is to accomplish something beyond that, but people being people, they’re thinking they’ve decided that the deck or the site is all they need to get where they want to go.

Asking for the item is simply them trying to be efficient, to not waste their time or ours by asking for what they need –– but there is always a larger goal.

To be the most helpful to the client, we need to know their goal. Why? Because, maybe, a deck is not all they need. Maybe a website would be more useful. Or maybe a series of short videos would be a better solution. Or all the above.

In any case, if we don’t ask a few questions, they may not actually get what they really need.

“So, great you need your deck by the end of next week, right?”

“Yeah, and I think it will be about fifty slides.”

“Okay, fifty pages, and I’m assuming it’s to follow the brand guide in terms of look and feel. Let me ask, why do you think fifty slides?”

“Oh, right, my boss sent me the deck that she used at the same event last year. I’ll send it along. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Perfect. Could you tell me a bit more about the event and what you hope to have happen? I mean, what’s your goal?”

“This is a US-wide healthcare organization that is trying to put more control into patient self-diagnosis through AI. We hope to become a leading supplier of AI support services to them.”

“That’s huge, am I right? I mean, now that you mention it, aren’t people already using AI to diagnose their medical issues? I sure do.”

“You’re right. And it’s not just consumers. An AMA survey showed 66% of docs are using AI. Up from 38% a year earlier.”

“So, naturally, you want to grow in the category. Does your site support that goal?”

“Sort of, but it’s out of date and it’s buried.”

“We could help with that –– or maybe better –– we could do a microsite that supports your deck.”

The conversation could easily spin to a larger direct marketing effort, using questions in a conversational style that spins up from being centered around the initial ask to possibilities –– all in the client’s best interest.

Conversation elevated

The result is bigger than the additional work you’ve developed. To the client, you’ve gone from someone who does what’s asked to a person who is interested in them and knows how to help.

Note that the questioning starts with assuring the client that you’ll handle their immediate need for getting the deck done. Then you inquire about the deck itself. Then and only then do you spiral out to asking about the larger issues.

But you guys are in this every day, what would you ask?

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That was one of the first things I noticed at the farm.

I asked and the word was, “People get relaxed around the machines over time, forgetting how dangerous they are and…”

I was sixteen. It must have been the first time I realized that boring repetitive work could actually be dangerous. I did know that I struggled doing stuff that I found uninteresting. And I soared with art and design. I didn’t work on the farm long enough to get bored.

If I had stayed, what was new and exciting would become drudgery over time. The men with missing fingers became a reminder of why I needed to move on.

Even then, I knew I needed work that kept me engaged by offering new things to explore. I needed work that kept me in the creative flow.

AI and automation offer us the opportunity to reduce the amount of routine and repetitive work we do.

Humans are remarkable for our creativity, empathy, and problem-solving skills — but we struggle with repetitive tasks. Hence the loss of fingers. Monotonous work dulls our focus, invites errors, and drains our energy.

We crave variety, meaning and being in the flow, fully engaged it work that interests us..

It seems to me that the birth of mass manufacturing — and the systematic efficiency measures that followed, such as time and motion studies — forced large numbers into repetitive, mind-numbing jobs, many of them dangerous.

Before the Industrial Revolution and even back to our hunter-gatherer days, our success as a species depended on our ability to be adaptable, learn quickly, and handle diverse tasks. Mass manufacturing prioritized efficiency and standardization, leading to work that stifled our drive for creativity and flexibility.

AI, computers, and automated machines don’t tire, get bored, or lose focus or fingers, making them ideal for handling rule-based, repetitive tasks, freeing us to focus on what we do best –– iterating, trying new stuff, and solving complex problems. Best of all, using our emotional intelligence to create richer, more meaningful work experiences.

That’s all good, but there’s a much-talked-about dark side.

The looming job losses due to these new technologies are scary. Some of these losses are already very visible. Waymo One autonomous taxis in San Francisco have eliminated driving jobs. Truck driving jobs are speculated to be next. Employment numbers in journalism are a fraction of what they were only twenty years ago. Grocery cashiers are mostly gone. More out-of-sight but often mentioned factory and code-writing jobs are drying up. The legal profession is shrinking, finding that AI can replace what young lawyers just out of school used to do.

That’s scary.

It’s great that in this rapidly evolving futurist world, drudgery is supposed to be gone. But how will we eat?

Will we help people learn new creative and critical thinking skills so they can manage the AI systems through training? That seems like a good idea, but it doesn’t look like our education system is getting much popular support at the moment.

Andrew Yang ran on universal basic income, which at least got people thinking about the issues. Will we adopt UBI or other social safety nets that could buffer the effects of job loss? That doesn’t look possible at the moment, either. But it should be.

Historically, technological revolutions have destroyed jobs but created entirely new roles. AI and automation may lead to opportunities that are currently unimaginable.

AI is taking on repetitive tasks, boosting efficiency, and job losses are part of the result. But our human contribution has always been more significant than our ability to plan and do repetitive labor. Roles, where our judgment, empathy, and creativity are allowed to soar, have always created great work environments. Places that leverage our unique feeling-driven qualities improve the resulting products and services and make both clients and workers happy. I see that in my daily work with creatives.

We’re on the brink of a new era. The transition from repetitive drudgery to dynamic, creative engagement is not just a possibility—it’s here. The scars of our past, symbolized by the missing fingers, are a stark reminder of the cost of mind-numbing work. We now have technologies that promise to liberate our time and energy, but they come with their own challenges.

The future isn’t about giving up our jobs to systems that replace nuance and empathy.

The future must be about aggressively reimagining our roles in a society where our innate creativity, compassion, and problem-solving prowess define our value. It demands focused adaptation — reforming education, safeguarding career transitions, and embracing new social contracts.

We need a deliberate effort to develop workplaces where continuous learning and innovative thinking are not sidelined but celebrated.

We must prevent a future where technological progress perpetuates inequality.

We must create workplaces where everyone can flourish.

We must guide this evolution with wisdom and empathy so that it delivers not just efficiency but a richer, more humane experience.

With job losses looming, we must harness the tools that disrupt traditional work, using them to forge a path toward more meaningful and engaging opportunities.

The promise is a future where fewer lose their fingers and more reclaim their passion for their craft using these technologies is what I’m betting on.

The post Negotiations: AI and future work appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Sometimes, you gotta go with the flow.

After ten years in Dallas, my wife applied and got accepted into the master’s program of her dreams at Washington State University.

I’m in advertising. Spokane is the closest city big enough to have an advertising community, and I applied to the three biggest agencies there.

It’d be an hour and a half commute, but we need my income to make it work.

Rejected from the two bigger ones, the owner of the third said he’d fly me up for an interview.

At the end of our conversation, he revealed what he meant about flying me up with, “Tom, I’d like you to have a little skin in the game. So, I’ll advance you half the fare for a coach seat and reimburse the other half if we make a deal. How’s that sound?”

Desperate for the gig, I agreed.

That little transaction set the tone for our relationship.

I booked a room at Spokane’s Motel Six, and I caught the next flight out. He asked me to meet him at a bar in the local casino for dinner and drinks the evening I arrived.

Dinner turned into a night of drinking, smoking, and stories of Mad Man like triumphs in the ad biz.

The following day, we met at his office, where he offered me the job. I took it. We shook hands, I signed, he smiled, offered me a cigarette, and I said, “I don’t smoke.”

Surprised, “But last night…”

I smiled in reply, “This is advertising; we’re all liars.”

I worked there the two years and watched as he drank the business into foreclosure.

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The DM lit my screen.

It was a personal note responding to a very revealing piece I’d written about my childhood and posted on several platforms. It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. It could be nothing.

I breathed, gathered my thoughts, focused, and read more carefully.

“I saw your extremely revealing story. Knowing just a bit of your history, it all made sense now. I’m in creative services with a firm of twenty-five. I could use your help.”

It was happening. I’d been writing more about my life in a personal search to understand who I am and why I am the way I am. The extravert side of me, the tireless self-promo side of me, kicked in, and I posted it.

A little defensive here: I also get great pleasure helping people, especially creative people. I’m hopelessly creative myself and addicted to my work. A lifetime of that, plus a heap of professional experience, has helped me stay connected to the creative world in a way that works for people.

With my writing becoming more revealing, my advisory practice has grown. And the recent growth is, for the most part, my community seeing me in a new way.

The post It’s personal appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

(Note: I’ve made changes in the following story, to keep identities private.)

“They’re going to offer me the position.” That’s how our Zoom call started. Ariel’s a long-term client of mine, an American working in London as a senior creative director.

“Wow,” was my reply. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

Ariel went on to describe her suitor. She was thrilled, as well she should have been. The organization – I’ll call it Top Fox – had a long and glorious history of producing award-level creative for many of the world’s top companies.

So I asked, “Why is this position open now?” And I learned that although Top Fox had a terrific record of outstanding work, they’d been losing clients. Recently some of their top talent had moved on.

I also asked, “How did they find you?”

“A woman I worked with in Hong Kong, Mia, now heads new business in New York at Top Fox. Mia’s been wanting to get me in there for a couple years, but there wasn’t an opportunity until now. And my work has gotten a lot of attention recently. So when she proposed me to their global creative officer, a guy named Dirk, he already knew who I was. He actually said he’d been collecting my work.”

I was thrilled for Ariel, but a little concerned. It would be a big jump. Top Fox was far bigger than the firms she’d worked for in the past. And struggles with internal politics were why she had grown increasingly unhappy.

“Ariel, these guys are global. Far larger than any place you’ve worked. The internal politics will be far more complex than what you’ve experienced in the past.”

“I knew you were going to say that. Yes, I expect they will. But I want this job. I want out of the swamp I’m in. I’ll be more prepared than I’ve been before.”

I left the warnings behind and switched to the upside.

“It’s a great opportunity, and from my view, you couldn’t be more right for it.”

I told Ariel about the recent jump in creatives’ average pay, as reported by various salary surveys as well as firms that have lost talent to global giants who can offer unmatchable packages. I don’t think creatives had had a documented jump in average pay since the early ’90s.

“It’s a great time to get a significant pay boost, Ariel.”

The post Part one of four: The opportunity appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Whenever someone I know, who runs a small creative firm, or is a writer or designer, tells me they struggle with asking for and getting the fees they need I always recommend the three-step close.

I know about this struggle and the anxiety that goes with asking for the money. Why? Because I’ve always struggled with it myself. I still struggle, even though I have successfully asked for hundreds of thousands and even millions and gotten the money. But the feelings of anxiety and even outright fear are still with me.

Along the way, I’ve discovered that the amount doesn’t matter. Asking for a few hundred can be just as anxiety-producing as asking for thousands, or hundreds of thousands, for that matter.

That anxiety is what led me to create my three-step close.

Why the angst?

The reason for the fear is simple. You’re not in control. You could be challenged. You could be told that you’re not worth it, or that you don’t have the chops, or you’re not qualified. Or as my father used to say, “you’re stupid!” So how could you possibly be worth anything let alone what you’re asking for?

My father’s voice confirming that I’m not worth it is always dancing with my lizard brain somewhere in the back of my head.

An awful lot of creatives I know struggle with something similar.

So what do they do instead of asking for the money? They write an email, a text, or worse an elaborate proposal. That’s what I used to do too.

And when I ask them why they feel better writing it out they often say that it gives them a chance to go over every word carefully. A chance to deeply consider every aspect of the job before committing. A chance to craft the logic of their ask completely.

I understand that deep need to spell it all out, but I’m pretty sure that the real reason is they are just afraid of rejection. And as I said I’m intimately familiar with that fear. And, still feel it.

The scenario

A prospective client, or an existing client, has asked you for a proposal. You’ve discussed the work. Maybe they’ve sent you a description of what they need.

In any case, you’ve had a bit of time to consider how you’d approach the work. You’ve had a chance to question the client and you have a good understanding of what’s needed. At this, point you’ve made notes and are clear about what the deliverables will be. You know how long it will take to do the work and you’ve decided what you are going to charge.

Now it’s time to talk to your client.

It’s best to do this in person but video is fine, especially with the pandemic. Voice alone is not as good but is acceptable if it’s all that you can arrange. What’s not acceptable is sending ahead an email, text, or proposal with your fee in it.

Okay, now here you are on Zoom or in the room with, hopefully, your soon to be, client.

The three-step close

Step one:
Describe the deliverables you’ve determined are required to meet the client’s needs. Carefully watching your client for their reaction as you do so. When you’ve completed your description ask your client, “how does that sound?”

If they say great move on to spelling out the schedule.

It’s a good sign if they ask for a change or adjustment in the deliverables you’ve described. It means they are with you in spirit at the very least. Maybe you forgot to include something or maybe the discussion has made the client think of something they’d like added. Fantastic, they’re engaged!

If you’re able adjust your deliverables on the spot do so and ask the question again, “how does that sound?”

If you are unable to adjust the deliverables on the spot, ask them if you can get back to them on the point they raised and move on.

Step two:
Describe the schedule. And keep this as simple as possible, with something like, “projects like this will take about eight weeks. How does that sound?”

At this point, the client will be wondering what the costs will be so it’s time go for it!

Step three:
Time to talk fees. Again, I like to keep it as simple as possible, “with eight weeks to do the work and the deliverables we’ve agreed the fee is $50,000.

Now it’s time to be quiet. Say nothing more and hold the client’s gaze as best you can, while you wait. They may simply say “yes, can’t wait to work with you on this”.

If they ask for a written proposal say, “In my experience, it’s far more efficient to follow up with a contract. I’ve found that it’s not a good use of my client’s time or that of my own to write proposals.”

If they agree you can follow up with a contract. Or they may want to discuss it further. And discussion – even if it results in changes – is just as good as a simple go-ahead.

Why it works

First of all, it shows that you are a knowledgeable professional, comfortable talking about money and you are experienced enough about what is required to discuss the scope fluently.

Second, starting with a detailed discussion of the work will, in my experience, greatly reduce your anxiety. It sure does for me.

Through the back and forth of this project defining conversation you’ll form a bond with your client by showing how engaged you are in meeting their needs. This is always flattering for them and reassuring for you.

They will be able to talk, clarifying their growing understanding of their need and what’s required to fill it. And you’ll gain additional insight that will shape and define the scope.

Best of all, the discussion will make them feel secure in their professional area which will further their good feelings about you. Remember they are human too, subject to their own feelings and anxieties.

Lizzard diminished

As the discussion unfolds your anxiety will drop dramatically as you see the client embracing the jointly defined approach.

So by the time you get to the money, you will feel that you have a fairly solid relationship with the client. That feeling has always helped me, and my clients who use the three-step close, gain enough confidence to say the number and wait for a response.

Once a verbal agreement is reached follow up with a contract to seal the deal.

And that’s how I learned to dance with my lizard and win.

The post The three-step close appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

1. I’ve waited for the “right time” to talk about money
2. I believed what was offered was non-negotiable
3. I settled for the first offer they made
4. I was so uncomfortable with silence that I lowered my ask
5. I was so happy to be considered that I shared my past salary
6. I never negotiated over perks and benefits
7. I was almost always afraid to say no

Sound familiar? Join Jessica Knapp and I next week as we fill the final open seats of our Negotiations for Creatives workshop, 5 sessions, January 11-15, 10-noon. More here>>

The post Seven common negotiation miss steps appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

With Covid, negotiations have become completely virtual. Jessica and I have always recommended strongly for conducting negotiations in person whenever possible. But here we are in a Covid dominated world.

So, we created our seminar – Negotiations for Creatives – to help all of us become better at getting what we need in spite of the virtual barriers we all find so perplexing.

It’s only $200 and is focused entirely on the reality of getting the money you need even with the loss of in person bargaining….

https://tedleonhardt.com/ted-events/negotiations-for-creatives-in-the-age-of-covid/

The post January 11-15, 10-Noon Pacific appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Jessica Knapp and I created this seminar to answer the burning need…

Negotiations for Creatives – January 11-15, 10-noon, and only $200 per attendee – has been structured to help creatives understand how to turn our natural discomfort asking for the money into a strength. A discomfort increased during Covid.

Course description and sign up here>>>

The post Need a job, a raise, or a fee hike? appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

I could see that he was already flipping through a document when the Zoom window opened. Then he took off his glasses as if in deep thought.

Must be my proposal, I thought. Shit.

I could feel the perspiration beginning to form.

I’d planned to walk him through my pitch on our call. He’d texted and asked me to send my proposal ahead so we’d both have a copy. Not wanting to upset the mood or do anything to ruffle his feathers, I sent it. I knew it was a mistake even as I hit the Send button. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

The only thing I like about Zoom is that they can’t tell I’m sweating.

I have a hard enough time asking for the money anyway, and now with Covid I have to do it virtually. It’s taken me years to feel even vaguely comfortable asking for the money. Now it’s harder than ever to develop the kind of trusting relationship I’ve learned is essential to making a connection – a connection that results in a sale.

Jon, my prospect, was now leaning forward, both elbows on his desk and hands on head. Head down, staring at my proposal. I could see his bald spot.

“Sara, I thought we agreed the testing stage wasn’t necessary…?”

He’s just going to pick my process apart. This is going to be excruciating.

Never have I had the obstacles I have today: a raging pandemic, who knows when this will end; a gig economy that’s clearly rigged against me; a virtualized marketplace that commoditizes my value.

“Jon, I thought we agreed that testing would be a later stage. That we’d test after we’d cleared all the initial approvals…”

“What I’m worried about is the overall price.”

OK, I think, maybe we just can’t get there from here. And I remain silent – as I’ve forced myself to learn to do – watching Jon on the screen as he shuffles through the pages of my proposal. As the perspiration trickles down my back.

Then he picks up another document.

“I’ve got two other proposals. Both are priced lower than yours,” he says, looking up.

Now Jon has what must be my two competitors’ proposals laid out next to mine.

I’m thinking madly, “Is it just price? Who does he want to work with? He seems to be spending a lot of time with me. Why is he bothering?”

So in a moment of boldness I ask, “Who do you want to work with?”

Now he’s wiping his face with both hands. Clearly uncomfortable.

“Sara, we want to work with you.”

“Why? Why do you want to work with us?”

“Sara, we have a new head of purchasing. He’s demanding that we get price reductions from every vendor. He’s got my boss and his boss sold on the idea that every vendor has to play by these new rules. With Covid and the fear around the election, our business is…”

I continue to listen, but the fear is gone. I’m so glad I did my prep exercises. I can see the way forward now. This is a maybe that’s leaning in my direction. Leaning my way. I can feel my strength returning.

Most important: He hasn’t actually come out and asked for a price reduction.

Note to self: “Don’t let it go to your head, girl.”

“Jon, I know you’ve carefully compared us to others. You called at least two of my clients, and…”

“I called four of your clients.”

“OK, so are we going to be working together?”

“I have to get this through purchasing first.”

So Jon feels like he’s caught in the middle. Thinking now: “Offer to meet with purchasing? What?” Then the question comes to mind.

“Jon, what is it that makes you say you want to work with us? I think you said ‘we’ want to work with you.”

“Yes, it’s a ‘we.’ Sara, you know our category better than any of the others.”

A pause. “OK, it’s mine to lose,” I think.

“Jon, several thoughts come to mind. First, I could meet with purchasing and walk him ­–– it is a guy, right?”

“Yes, he’s a former Walmart purchasing guy. Learned it from the best, I guess.”

“Walmart,” I think. “Yes, they’re the best. Scary.”

“Okay, my second thought is, let’s get approval for a small information-gathering step. You and I can do the interviews together. Spend a couple days on Zoom with your clients, getting their reactions to your existing position and that of your competitors. How does that sound?”

Prep exercises

1: My appearance
The first thing I always do is look at how I’ll appear on camera. Lighting. Background. Props. I’ve found that it gives me a great deal of confidence to know that my expertise is well represented through how a prospective client – in this case, Jon – will see me.

Props that represent the work I’m known for are an important part of the look. I always make sure three or four of my best are clearly visible. No bookcases packed with titles by others, or digital backgrounds, for me. I know why people use these obvious, overused cliches. They’re trying to imitate what the home-based talking-head media figures do, forgetting that what their audience is interested in is them.

Getting “the look” right has always been important to me. Once I feel good about the way I appear in my surroundings, I can cross a large source of my anxiety off the list.

2: Credibility list
Next I need to remind myself of my credibility. I know it seems strange, given my years of experience, that I still need to boost my cred. But for whatever reason, I do.

The technique I use most often is to simply make a list of the projects and events in my career that I feel provide the most credibility for the opportunity at hand. And because a mentor reminded me that my career started in childhood, I usually jot down a note about an early creative success.

3: What’s changed
Next I gather what I know about the individuals and the organization I’m about to present to – with an emphasis on what’s changed for them. In this case I knew they’d added several new executives to their senior management team. Although I didn’t know they’d added a Walmart-trained executive to lead their purchasing effort, it wasn’t surprising.

Those are my top last-minute prep exercises: my appearance, a credibility list and what’s changed. I use these three exercises in addition to all the work I put into studying a prospect, prior to even thinking about how I’d approach a creative assignment.

What happened?

Jon delved into the process of what to do to get purchasing on board. It was gratifying to know how committed he was to working with me and my little firm. But I knew Jon’s commitment was not enough by itself.

Jon was able to approve a small portion of his budget to do some research. He also suggested that he could fund our strategy team to build a case for a creative direction. Best of all, Jon wanted to help build a presentation for his senior management. Again, he was able to fund this on his own authority.

I guess you could call this win-win negotiating. And you could also say it showed the power of saying no. But I like to think it’s really more about having well-defined expertise.

As I like to say, “They can’t get what I do, the way I do it, from anyone else but me.”

That’s my real source of power, and it’s yours too.

Overture member Jessica Knapp and I are teaming up to lead a negotiation seminar January 11-15, 10-Noon Pacific each day where we’ll offer methods for you to get what you need to be successful negotiating in the Age of Covid. Sign up here>>>

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