He was a tall, fit man wearing a splendid suit. It was no “off-the rack” grey suit either. It had obviously been tailor-made to specific measurements. I guessed it would have come with a price tag of several K’s of cash.
The wristwatch was also impressive as were the pocket square, tie and the brightly shining shoes that must have come in at about $1K alone.
So it was an impressive entrance in terms of splendour of attire, but it didn’t seem to be making an impression on his audience to any great degree.
The man in the splendour suit was a federal agriculture minister and his audience in the lower level of a local motel in Estevan, consisted of over 100 concerned farmers and ranchers. Their attire was somewhat different as they made their way to the coffee urns at the back of the hall to grab a paper cup of caffeine before hearing what Mr. Splendid had to say.
Their get ups were what one would expect for a hastily called meeting that had taken them off their land and pastures. Bib coveralls, or blue jeans, plaid or T-shirts dominated their fashion statements along with crop stained working boots.
Freshened up from his Ottawa flight, the splendid appearing minister attempted to explain what the government could do, or mostly couldn’t do for these people who were hurting.
It’s a well-recorded fact prairie farmers and ranchers have learned to cope in dealing with the variances in weather, seeding, harvest times and equipment on a continual basis. It’s a frustration for them then when the realization is made plain that they usually don’t have control over what price their products will bring and/or when it’s even shipped to waiting markets and how politics often gets in the way of their business of feeding folks. That reality is supposed to be aided and abetted by concerned governments who can intervene at the regional, national and global levels to make their tasks easier and, on occasion, profitable.
So when the message comes from Ottawa that “we feel your pain, but there isn’t much we can do at this point in time,” the bib-covered producers are often somewhat disappointed, even angry.
Fortunately for this particular agriculture minister, the anger was contained within the eye contacts and only an occasional groan of “here we go again,” laments.
In other words, the message wasn’t going to be new or encouraging, but they were hoping it would be at least a little helpful or at least hopeful.
The minister’s name right now is not vital, nor the exact time line, but I do recall thinking at the time as I leaned against a wall along with a few other media members, this guy had been put into a double jeopardy situation simply because his handlers, his aides, had not read the room.
His suit and shoes, I figured represented more money going into one man’s apparel than what would be gained totally by all 100 or more of those farmers perched on folding chairs hoping that this would finally be a politician they could trust to help them out of a regional crisis that could soon turn into a national or international challenge.
It wasn’t to be.
Would he have been more believable if he had shown up wearing jeans, casual blazer, open neck shirt and “normal” shoes bearing a few scuffmarks indicating actual use in non-parliamentary surroundings? I’m guessing yes. Those in attendance would have been more accepting I was sure. After all, this guy had maybe even been one of them at one time, but along the way, he had been talked into getting more than a little dressed up. I was guessing that was a mistake.
They all needed to feel at ease with one another if the farmers/ranchers were going to make their case and if he was going to make them believe he was on their side, even if he couldn’t be in the long run because of, you know, politics. That’s something that often gets in the way of common business sense.
It turned out to be a rather strange, uncomfortable session with very little exchange of concepts or ideas and the guy in the splendid suit departed rather quickly without fielding much in the line of questions from the producers or press. That is probably why I recalled this particular session as opposed to several hundred others I attended in the past.
It wasn’t a normal meeting and I tended to blame the fact that the comfort zone had been messed up right from the start and maybe those handlers, those political office aides and brief case carriers had made the mistake of not knowing what their boss was heading into. They had not done their homework I figured.
There have been other occasions I have encountered where the gloves of communication didn’t fit, but this was one of the more graphic instances of not being able to read the room.
It’s not terrible, like wearing a clown suit to a funeral or a wedding gown to a hot dog fire pit roast.
I just hoped that the politician and his team would be able to get it right the next time he had to prance into the public spotlight. After all, politicians, I have been told, prefer to have their messages delivered in full before they start getting the feedback from the panting public. Knowing where you are going, why you’re going there is one thing. Knowing who is going to be your audience and what their reaction is going to be is another. Wearing splendid suits with fashionable accoutrements sometimes just doesn’t add up as intended.
Read the room in advance maybe?
