What do you do when your product is losing share to a new competitor and it’s time to present the annual marketing plan?

Stay positive! Acknowledge the challenges and the implication, but do so in a matter of fact manner, and move quickly to your proposed solution.

Even if you have a snowball’s chance in hell of recovering your market share, put together a plan that could work if everything were to break in your favor.

And demonstrate commitment in your choice of words, your posture, and your tone of voice. Everyone knows it’s a bad situation before you begin, so you must demonstrate belief in the possibility–however small–of success.

We are not rewarded in business for dragging problems into the board room and dumping them on the table in front of senior people. We are rewarded for being crystal clear about the situation, and giving them the best option you and your team can devise.

You are the captain of your brand. There is no honor in leaving the ship while it sinks. Your job is to fight to the end. The brand may go down, but you will be remembered for your determination and optimism in the face of dire odds.

When you present, dress conservatively, and wear a bit of red near your face.

For men, a red tie does the trick. If you’re not wearing ties these days, at least wear a sport coat you can button. It hides the wrinkles we get in the lap of our pants, and the bulge we may have acquired in the midriff.

For women, lipstick or a red scarf or blouse will work. The red draws the eyes of the listener to your face. I would also suggest avoiding sleeveless blouses and open-toed shoes. Much better to present in a suit, or at least in a blazer or jacket.

Dress for the position you want, not for the position you’re in.

If a Susan Boyle look-alike stood in front of the Board Rooms that I’m familiar with, she would have been exposed to the same ridicule and condescension she experienced at her televised audition which I just saw on You Tube.

It would have been politely concealed, but the corporate elite occupying the seats around the table would have fidgeted on their leather cushions.

The video made me cry, especially when the judges finally gave voice to what I was feeling, although I thought the complete version on You Tube was incredibly cynical and manipulative. (I’ve linked to it, above.)

It made me cry because Ms. Boyle seemed to take it in stride that everyone spoke to her as though she were the village idiot.

Why is it that a middle-aged woman without a figure or a chic wardrobe is an object of ridicule?

In this youth-obsessed, status craving, competitive world, she took the stage with no apparent ammunition, until she opened her mouth. And suddenly we learned she had nerves of steel, talent, and a depth of humanity that made her seem more powerful than all the glitzy show-offs, and we all felt like idiots.

Which means we’re not really idiots, because when we see or hear something profoundly beautiful, we acknowledge it, and shake our heads at our own folly.

“Deep down, we’re all shallow,” said Oscar Wilde. I have to disagree.

I’d say we’re shallow until we witness something deep, like Susan Boyle’s talent, and then we are moved out of our shallowness, and into appreciation.