It’s important, from time to time, for advocates to be reminded that their lobbying meetings can only go so badly. The reality of our work is that the worst response we can typically get is “no.” But sometimes that’s not the low water mark of a meeting.
Over the last couple of weeks I’ve worked with several different groups to identify best practices for advocacy meetings in the still digital realm of the COVID era. Without fail, some things go wrong in the practice sessions and live meetings alike. After all, we’re all human right?
This many years in the field, I’ve reached a point where I’ve seen lots of mistakes that derail meetings. Some are simple oversights: forgetting to make an “ask” because you’re caught up in a good conversation and the clock runs out; someone has a distracting affectation or worse a stain left on their shirts from lunch; and the all time dreaded mid-meeting flatulence.
My constant reminder to my advocates is that these remain, at their core, minor issues from which they can easily recover if they have a plan for their meetings. But what do you do when malicious forces are at play and the speed bump in your meeting is more than just a minor incident?
During the height of the 2017 debates surrounding the future of the Affordable Care Act, some congressional offices saw abysmal displays from activists. In an effort to draw headlines, or engage in shock tactics, agitators subverted the hard work of issue advocates by creating public displays they thought could catch attention. I witnessed staff being followed from their offices, efforts to track their movements, and even a few not-so-veiled threats.
At the time, I decided any engagement I’d have with those groups would necessitate killing them with kindness. Our team took every note, listened to every story, and bent over backwards to remain available. As logic would have it, without a friction point to energize them, the agitators lost their zeal and melted away from the process. Eventually – and it did take a while – we developed a rapport with those would-be advocates that, if not in friendship, ended amicably.
At the time, I thought the scenes I saw then would hold the title for “worst meeting moments” in my mind for a long while. Until I heard a story from a colleague yesterday.
This friend – who will remain anonymous – told me about a public meeting held this past summer. Somehow, their zoom meeting details were forwarded beyond their control (before we all got better about preventing zoom bombers) and the meeting log-in information ended up being advertised on a website for, wait for it, voyeurs and sexual exhibitionists.
In the middle of their meeting, three men appeared in the crowd, and began, well, exhibiting themselves. Your imagination can take it from there.
And that, folks, is absolutely the undefeated champion of bad meeting moments. How do you recover from that kind of disruption?
I’m not sure any level of planning can fully prepare your team for something like that. At best, in this virtual world, it needs to serve as a stark reminder for digital security and a dedicated staffer who can boot those malcontents expeditiously. Further, you need to prepare your advocates for interruptions and how to regain their composure when those interruptions occur.
But in the meantime, you can use this story when you’re talking to your advocates. Remind them that it’s ok if they flub a talking point, or if their personal story falls flat. After all, when they’ve prepared for the worst, they’ll know a meeting can only go so badly (you hope).
Part of the Possible 