Not a Teacher — a Sherpa
I can fix most of my clients’ issues in about 14 seconds. Five mouse clicks and the problem is gone. But I almost never do that. Because the fastest resolution isn’t always the best one, and the person sitting across from me didn’t schedule a consultation to watch me show off.
Ten minutes before every consultation, I start preparing. I adjust my browser, check my webcam lighting and background, and set up my client’s account. By the time they arrive, their view is already waiting for them. Not my whole desktop with its files and folders and distractions. Just the browser. Just their view. No bookmarks like “crypto investing” and no open tabs like “Fluffy Blueberry Muffin Recipe.” When they join, I say something like, “Can you see the screen I am sharing okay? I’m more than happy to share my screen so you can sit back and direct traffic. Sort of like a Subway restaurant, where I make the sandwich for you and you watch the process and say ‘More cucumber, less onions.’” That usually gets a chuckle. Then I say, “But if you want to share your screen to show me what you’re seeing, do let me know. Now how may I help you today?”
The Subway line is funny, but it’s doing real work. It tells the client three things before we’ve touched a single setting: you’re in charge, I’m here to serve, and this is going to be a conversation, not a lecture.
From there, I match their pace. If I can tell they want to understand the why behind each step, I keep a running commentary. Every click, every decision, narrated in plain language. If the screen is dense with information and I need a moment to find what I’m looking for, I’ll say out loud, “All right, where is that link? It should be here. I know it’s here somewhere. Ah! There it is.” Maybe I spotted it instantly. Maybe I didn’t. The point is that the client sees even the expert has to look. That dissolves the distance between their experience and mine.
If my client is taking notes, I stop talking. I watch them write. When they look back up at me, I say, “Back when I was in college, I had a tough time with lectures. I’d be writing something important down and miss the next fifteen seconds of what the professor was talking about.” Teachers don’t wait to see if their students absorb the material. I do.
And here is the part that matters most: not every client needs the same version of me. Some clients want the energy, the humor, the Crisco and the Crikey. Others are highly anxious, socially uncomfortable, and would probably rather not be in a live session at all. For those clients, I ratchet down the enthusiasm. I speak quietly. I pay close attention to their comfort level and I never blast through a solution to show how much I know.
I think of it as chameleon consulting. Not changing who I am, but adjusting how I show up based on what the person in front of me needs. The Sherpa doesn’t set the pace. The climber does. The Sherpa’s job is to know the terrain, stay close, and make sure nobody falls.
That’s the difference between a teacher and a Sherpa. A teacher delivers information and expects you to keep up. A Sherpa walks beside you and makes sure you never feel lost. I decided a long time ago which one I wanted to be.
If you ever sat with me for a consultation, I promise you one thing: I would never be Nick Burns, Computer Guy from Saturday Night Live.
More later…