Yesterday, I spent the afternoon listening to three singer songwriters play some songs in a pub in Farringdon. The Betsy Trotwood, as it happens. This is a pub I know from my days working in Clerkenwell, although it also used to be a place to avoid as it was always full of journalists from The Guardian who had their offices across the road. I noticed this is now where LinkedIn does business, however, as far as I’m aware LinkedIn employees do not frequent the pub. Certainly not on a Sunday afternoon.
I did sit next to a journalist, though. She was from Egypt and had been spending time in Gaza. We had some brief but illuminating (for me) conversations about what it is like on the ground there, how people cope, the sort of stories that don’t get told here in the UK and the stories that they want to tell (not always as negative or frightening as I had thought they would be), and much more.
It was both ear- and eye-opening as afternoons go.
Not only did I have my worldview shifted through the chat with this journalist, but also by listening to an artist I’d never heard before. Not their music nor their name. They stole the show for me, though. Pete Greenwood, for those still reading (not that I’m writing this for anyone other than myself).
Pete had that wonderful ability to tell stories in as few words as necessary, to draw out laughs from those of us listening, but also to hold us rapt and silent with the musical stories he told afterwards. Putting us at ease and then delivering something astonishing. He was all about humanity in every sense.
I’d seen this type of interaction in my professional (inverted commas probably necessary) life once or three times. Not as often as I’d like to have done, but still. Like a great new business pitch, there was the convivial opener that settles the room and makes everyone take a collective breath in, relax and wait – perhaps with some heightened anticipation – before the main event. And then they’re told a story, or taken through a narrative if that ‘s’ word is too much for you, and it really lands. There is silence, nods along with the beats, perhaps even the equivalent of polite applause.
Pete had it down to a fine art. Just by being himself. Being human. No reliance on theatrics, or any attempt to be someone other than Pete Greenwood with his own unique point of view expressed in as few words as necessary to get the point across, plus an entertaining part. All the things that make for good business meetings and, often, all the things missing from them. I’d wager the entertainment piece flowed easily because of what came before.
