TOWN HALLS

We called them 'town halls' when I worked for an American company. A town hall happened when, once a quarter, the entire organisation would crowd together into the largest meeting room available and listen to the CEO explain very diplomatically, where we were as a company.

I've always treated them as opportunities for analysing presentation skills.

As well as being fascinated by graphs that go 'up and to the right', slides that bounce in as though they've been designed by sixth-formers in ICT, and toe-curling typos, I'm interested in how each presenter engages their audience, how they get their point across, and how it's received. I often find myself peering around, taking notes on all the wrong things.

Generally, there's a single point behind all the detail of these talks: we're doing badly, we've sold loads of stuff but not enough, Tim's awesome isn't he, our shareholders are in for a rough ride if you lot don't buck your ideas up, except you, Tim; you're the best; three cheers for Tim. Did I mention Tim?

A lot of people abandon the idea of being themselves altogether. They throw that idea out of the window and start with a joke. Only, they're not used to telling the kind of joke they found on the Internet twenty minutes ago, so they have to push through the tumbleweed, awkwardly, like a JCB arriving at a cocktail party.

Then there are the sales guys who clasp their fingers together, point and beam as they 'work the room'. No script, just eye contact and seamless confidence. They bat away hecklers with charm and they sparkle through slides with a wink and a winsome smile.

"Thanks, Tim," says the CEO, re-taking the floor, "Great guy," he almost says, pretending to shoot Tim with his index finger.

I used to think of The Simpsons whenever I was invited to a town hall. All the characters are called together (usually by Mayor Quimby) to decide whether Springfield should get a monorail, or should march Bart Simpson out of town with pitchforks or something.

In the show, the 'town hall' was the great hub of a small community, deciding together, what is what. I genuinely think that that's what the big cheeses of the world want to create too - a kind of corporate togetherness where we all feel really cosy about our organisation.

Cosy's not the word. It's sometimes as swelteringly claustrophobic as the 17:56 from London Paddington.

It is good to have an opportunity to ask questions though. I had one picked and read out this time, which made me smile, anonymously from my seat.

In some ways, a town hall doesn't seem like the most efficient way to present information. It's expensive and often difficult - public speaking is in the list of our top ten fears.

Plus, as time moves forwards and technology speeds everything up, our collective concentration span is getting shorter. Content, even well-presented content has to adapt, refresh, change and be smarter, or none of us will ever get to the end of it.

Speaking of which...