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Reading, write offs and ’rithmetic

There are immutable laws governing life on planet Earth — gravity, for example — but there aren’t very many. What there are a lot of are really good rules of thumb. Don’t spend more than you earn. Don’t run with scissors.
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There are immutable laws governing life on planet Earth — gravity, for example — but there aren’t very many. What there are a lot of are really good rules of thumb. Don’t spend more than you earn. Don’t run with scissors. Ask nicely before you break your brother’s toys. Eat everything on your plate… or sneak it to the dog when nobody’s looking. Don’t tug on Superman’s cape, spit into the wind, pull the mask off the….

To which we will once again try to add the single most necessary, time-saving, braincell salvaging, anger management rule of thumb so sorely needed at least every other Monday evening in Tiny Town.

DON’T READ YOUR POWERPOINT SLIDES!!!!!

Really people, how hard is this to understand. Let us, for just a moment, consider the manifold ramifications of standing in front of an audience, subjecting them to the crutch of tepid PowerPoint slides and then insulting their intelligence by reading what’s already in front of their very noses. The occasional lapse of judgment notwithstanding, I think it’s safe to assume Mayor Kenny, the councillors, muni staff and most of the concerned citizens who take a pass on fine rerun TV to while away their Monday evenings watching democracy in action can read. I don’t believe I’m going out on too skinny a limb stating that.

Most know something about the subject being addressed. Most can mentally walk and chew gum at the same time. Pretty much everyone can read words faster than you can speak the same words.

So here’s what happens when you read the content of the slides you worked so hard and long to produce, slides meant to clarify, amplify and/or add background detail to the point you so desperately want to make in your short — hopefully — time at the lectern. You start reading; the audience finishes reading approximately while you’re still on the first of four points flashed up on the screen. You continue reading; the audience, councillors included, stops listening, wonders when the next slide will flash up, begins to notice those really cool sippy cups everyone at council table are drinking their Kool-aid from, wishes they’d have brought some snacks, remember half a candy bar somewhere in the pocket of their coat, wonders what they’d do if the public found out they too engaged the services of three-diamond call girls, has a moment of concern over whether they turned the stove off before they left home, notices you’re only halfway through reading your third point, admonishes themselves for not paying attention, wonders when you’ll pull the trained monkey out of your briefcase and really put on a show, stifles a fart and laughs silently to themselves, begins praying for the next slide, fidgets.

In the meantime, you’re standing there, facing what most of the world identifies as their single most terrifying activity — public speaking — wondering why you worked so hard and thoughtfully on your presentation when everyone is just sitting there with glazed eyes and faraway looks on their face.

Now, most importantly, what’s not happening when you read your slides is this: communication. Communication requires engagement. Engagement requires interest. Interest wanes when the mind wanders. The mind wanders, nay, the mind races to other distractions almost as soon as it realizes you’re reading aloud what it’s already read up on the screen. It’s just human nature; no disrespect intended.

And if another reason is needed for a ban on reading PP slides, how about this: council meetings would only take a fraction of the time they take now. Ooo, baby, home in time to see who got voted off the island.

So how should you use PowerPoint slides to illustrate the important points you want to make in a public presentation? I’d be happy to consult with you on that. You’ll find my rates most reasonable.

Since doling out advice is a bit like eating M&Ms — once you start it’s hard to stop — I feel compelled to move on to helping all those poor condo owners who pleaded with council Monday night to not pass the bylaw that’ll require them to apply for rezoning for any additions over 20 square metres once their CC1 buildings are frozen at their current size.

I feel your pain. I am a recovered condo owner myself. I too succumbed to the siren song of Whistler (un)real estate and let some slick, fast-talking realtor sway me from my original intention — purchasing a residential building lot — and slide me into a condo at the base of Blackcomb.

To say it was a bad investment is not entirely accurate. It was a miserable investment. The only saving grace it offered was a good excuse to move to Whistler and become the pain in the butt I’ve become over the past 16 years. Why, I hear you ask, was buying a condo in Whistler a miserable investment. Let me count the ways.

First, under any investment analysis, they cost too much to acquire. The return is hopeful at best and generally ends up being well below what you’d get investing in Canada Savings Bonds. Second, after the “management” company lets people stay in them for free during the World Cup, discounts them during spring break so they can wholesale blocks of them off, and then takes 40+ per cent off the top, you actually end up writing a big cheque to carry the damn thing for, oh, 10 months of the year if you have even a miniscule mortgage. Third, you get the honour of paying not only property taxes but an additional tax to Tourism Whistler to help line the management company’s pockets. Fourth… I’ll spare you the remaining two dozen reasons.

If that sounds bleak it is. I can empathize with all you guys who, let’s not gild the lily here, made really dumb investments and are now bleeding money to keep the economic infrastucture of Whistler afloat. But the solution is not taking on more debt, building bigger condos out of smaller ones and thus digging yourselves deeper in the hole. That’s what economists call throwing good money after bad, gents.

The solution is to sell the suckers, cut your losses and resolve to never again be so foolish with your money. And just to clarify a point one of you made, they’re not selling below market… wherever they’re selling is market. Suck it up; take your losses like big boys.

The thing that bailed me out is the thing that’ll bail you out: The Greater Fool Theory. The entire condo market in Whistler runs on the Greater Fool Theory. It postulates that whenever you have something to sell that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and you have a steady stream of fools, er, pie-eyed tourists to whom to sell it, sooner or later the Greater Fool will come along and bail your ass out.

Don’t think it’ll work? Hey, one of you might be the Greater Fool who bailed me out. With the Olympics coming, we’ll be up to our nostrils in Greater Fools. Take heart.