Elevator pitch

What an elevator pitch is

An elevator pitch is a spoken answer of about thirty seconds to the question “so what do you do”, worded so that every person in your business gives roughly the same answer. It is said out loud, from memory, standing up, usually to somebody who did not ask out of real interest. That is the whole design constraint.

It is not a written sentence. A value proposition is read, and it can afford a subordinate clause and a semicolon. A pitch that reads beautifully and cannot be said out loud has failed, and most of the ones I am shown have failed on exactly that. The test is not whether it looks right on a page. The test is whether a tired person can say it at the end of a long day without tripping over the third clause.

Who this is for

A business where more than one person meets buyers. The moment two people answer the question differently, the difference is noticed, and by the fifth person the company sounds like five companies. Trade shows, chambers of commerce, association meetings and recruiting are where this shows up first.

It also suits an owner who has grown tired of hearing themselves ramble. Most owners answer the question with a history of the business, which is the wrong order, and know it while they are doing it.

If you work alone and never meet anyone in person, this is not the first thing to buy. Written material earns its keep instead, starting with key messages or straight to home page copy.

What goes in it

The deliverable is a small set of spoken pieces, not one line.

• The thirty seconds. Sixty to eighty spoken words, timed with a stopwatch, in sentences short enough to be said in one breath each. Who it is for, what changes, and one specific thing that proves it.
• The answer to “what does that mean”. The follow-on that arrives when the pitch has landed but the listener wants it in plainer terms. Fifteen to twenty seconds, with a concrete example of one job you have done.
• The answer to “who do you work with”. The other follow-on, and the one people answer worst, usually by listing everybody. It names the buyer type and gives one recognisable situation.
• The handover question. The sentence that gives the conversation back, so the pitch ends in a conversation rather than in silence.
• The words removed. Terms that look fine written and are unsayable: long compound nouns, your own internal names, anything that has to be spelled out.

Everything is drafted by saying it, recording it, and listening back. Sentences that only work on paper are audible within a line or two, and they come out early.

What you get

The pitch card. One card, both sides: the thirty seconds, the two follow-on answers, the handover question. Sized to sit in a wallet or a lanyard, because that is where it needs to be.

A recording of the practised version. Me saying it at the right pace, so that anyone joining the business later hears the rhythm rather than guessing at it from the page. Rhythm is most of what makes a spoken line repeatable.

A rehearsal session. Up to an hour on video with everyone who meets buyers. Each person says it, hears themselves back, and the flat parts get cut there and then. The version that survives the room is the final version.

The short variants. A ten-second version for when there is no time, and a two-minute version for when somebody is genuinely interested and the thirty seconds has done its job.

A worked example

An illustration, not a client. A company that services and calibrates weighing scales for food producers sends three people to two trade shows a year. Asked what they do, one says “we do scales”, one gives four minutes on calibration standards, and the owner starts with the year the business was founded. Sitting in on a morning of those conversations shows where attention goes: it is the second sentence, every time, in all three versions.

The pitch that survives rehearsal is twenty-eight seconds long and starts with the buyer's problem, which is a failed inspection. It names food producers rather than “industry”, says the scales are checked and certified on site overnight so no production time is lost, and ends by asking when the listener was last inspected. The follow-on for “what does that mean” describes one overnight visit to a bakery. The follow-on for “who do you work with” names three kinds of plant and stops. The word “metrological” is removed from all three, because nobody could say it twice in a row.

How it runs

1. A half-hour call. What you sell, who meets buyers, and where the question gets asked of you. No charge.
2. A fixed price in writing. Scope, number of people in the rehearsal, and the price agreed before anything starts.
3. Listening. Each person who meets buyers is recorded answering the question cold, without preparation. Plus your existing material and, where one exists, your messaging framework. Three to four working days.
4. Drafting aloud. Four or five candidates, each recorded and timed. You hear them rather than read them, and choose on a call. Three to four working days.
5. Rehearsal and delivery. The session with your people, then the card, the recording and the variants, usually within two working days of the session.

Two weeks from first call to rehearsal is typical, and less where a value proposition already exists.

What it costs

Quoted as a fixed price in CAD after the half-hour call, agreed in writing, and not changed without your agreement. The price depends on how many people take part in the rehearsal and whether the positioning behind the pitch is already settled. Where it is not, a value proposition usually comes first and makes this piece cheaper. The pricing page explains how fixed pricing works.

What happens next

People who have said the pitch a few dozen times usually want the written equivalents next, which is boilerplate descriptions in fixed lengths. Anyone presenting to a room rather than a person goes on to presentation copy and speaker notes. And where the pitch is right but the printed material still says something else, a voice consistency audit finds the contradictions with the evidence attached. This piece of work is complete on its own, and nothing further is assumed.