Facts are important. Technology is important. Architecture, features, design choices, lessons learned, best practices, worst practices, all of that matters. But facts alone do not always stick.
Stories do.
That is why storytelling is one of the most powerful tools you can have on stage. Especially when you present technical content. Because technology by itself can become abstract. It can become slides, diagrams, numbers, acronyms, and bullet points. A story makes it human. A story gives the audience a reason to care. A story helps them feel the impact of what you are trying to explain.
For me, storytelling on stage means taking people on a journey.
It means making complex things simple.
It means making technology real.
It means connecting a technical topic to something people can recognize, feel, laugh about, or remember.
A good story turns information into an experience.
And experiences are much harder to forget.
People remember moments, not bullet points
If you ask people where they were on a random date and time, most of them probably cannot answer.
But if you connect that date and time to an event, something joyful, something awful, something funny, something strange, suddenly the memory comes back. That is the power of story.
The emotion anchors the information, the feeling makes it memorable. The moment becomes a reference point.
That is exactly how storytelling works on stage. A slide full of bullet points may be correct, but if there is no story, no emotion, no connection, people may forget it before they even leave the room.
But when you wrap that message inside a story, something changes.
They remember where they were.
They remember how they felt.
They remember the example.
They remember the mistake.
They remember the lesson.
And because they remember the story, they remember the technology behind it.
The history teacher who made 2000 BC feel alive
I once had a history teacher who could tell stories about events from 2000 BC as if they were happening in the current time. He did not just throw dates and names at us. He connected history to everyday things. He added fun. He made it feel real. He made the people in those old stories feel like actual people instead of characters from a dusty book.
And because of that, it stuck.
Almost everyone in the classroom remembered it. It made passing the exam at the end much easier. That is what great storytelling does.
It does not remove the facts.
It gives the facts a place to live.
It gives the audience something to connect to.
People relate to feelings. A memory. A smell. A sound. A small detail. Something funny. Something painful. Something unexpected. Something that makes them think, yes, I know that feeling.
That is when the message starts to land.
Facts or stories, what would you prefer?
Imagine you are doing a tour or showing people around a place. You can stick to facts.
This building was built in this year. This room is this many square meters. This machine has this technical specification. This process has these five steps. All correct. All useful.
But now imagine you package those facts inside a story.
You explain what happened there.
Who used it.
What went wrong.
What changed.
Why it mattered.
What people learned.
What almost failed.
What saved the day.
Which version would you prefer?
You already know my preference. The story. Always the story. Because the story gives meaning to the facts.
Stories are everywhere
People sometimes ask where my stories come from. The answer is simple. Everywhere. Stories find me.
Day to day things.
Customer conversations.
Questions from the audience.
Things people share with me.
My own experiences.
Projects.
Mistakes.
Travel moments.
Technical failures.
Events behind the scenes.
Funny observations.
Strange situations.
Sometimes a story is triggered by one keyword. Someone says something, and suddenly my brain connects it to something that happened years ago.
That is why you need to explore.
Observe.
Stop for a moment.
Really watch your surroundings.
Notice the small details.
A print on a refrigerator.
A sentence written on a toilet door.
A strange sign in a hallway.
Something that made you smile.
Something that felt uncomfortable.
Something that made you sad.
Something that sparked a feeling. That feeling is often where a story begins.
Things that go wrong make the best stories
Often, the best stories are the things that went wrong. Of course, those are not always easy to share. You may feel a bit embarrassed. You may feel exposed. You may feel, well, a little naked on stage.
But remember everyone makes mistakes. That is how we learn.
And when you are willing to share a mistake honestly, people connect with you faster. Not because they enjoy your failure, but because they recognize the human part of it.
Nobody trusts a presenter who pretends everything always went perfectly.
But people do trust someone who says, “This went wrong, this is what happened, and this is what I learned.”
That is powerful.
The accidental Windows 2000 domain upgrade
I once did a project for a province in the Netherlands.
My task was to create the runbook for upgrading the domain to a new forest level. I had to make screenshots, document what the team was expected to do, and show the possible results.
I was working remotely.
And I was not expecting the Print Screen key to function like an Enter key in that remote session.
So there I was, preparing the upgrade documentation, wanting to take a screenshot.
I pressed Print Screen.
And suddenly I got a welcome message.
Welcome to Windows 2000.
Oopsie.
I had accidentally triggered the upgrade.
I checked everything. Fortunately, most things worked. I only had to fix a few flaws.
But there was one BIG problem.
There was no change record yet for this change.
So on Monday, I told the project leader, Ton:
“I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is that the upgrade works and we are now on a Windows 2000 domain and forest level. The bad news is that this happened ahead of schedule and was not yet approved by the Change Advisory Board.”
He was shocked at first. Then he laughed when I told him what had happened.
And in a clear, dry voice he said something like:
“Maybe create the change fast and we approve it today before people notice?”
That story still makes me smile. But it also carries a lesson. Mistakes happen.
Even when you prepare.
Even when you are careful.
Even when you think you are just taking a screenshot.
And that is exactly why stories like this work. They are funny, but they are also real. They make a point about preparation, change control, remote work, assumptions, and unexpected consequences.
That is much more memorable than a slide saying:
Always validate remote keyboard behavior before performing production changes.
True, but not exactly exciting.
A story needs to earn its place
A story belongs in a session when it helps the message land.
If it supports the main point, use it.
If it makes the audience understand something better, use it.
If it creates a useful emotional hook, use it.
If it makes the technical content easier to remember, use it.
But if the story is only there because you like telling it, be careful. A nice story is not always the right story.
Sometimes you need to remove a story because it distracts too much. Sometimes it is too long. Sometimes it is too personal. Sometimes it is funny, but it does not help the audience. Sometimes it belongs in another session, not this one.
That is also part of being a powerful performer. You need to know what to bring. And you need to know what to leave out.
The structure behind the story
For presentations, I often use the Golden Circle:
Why - Why does this matter?
How - How does it work?
What - What should people do with it?
For stories, I often use a structure that feels natural now, but when I examine it, I can see the pattern.
- Set the scene.
- Introduce the challenge, the new technology, or the opportunity.
- Build some tension if possible.
- Show what happened.
- Share the lesson.
- Connect it back to the topic at hand.
- Sometimes I zoom in on something extraordinary.
- A small detail.
- A look.
- A sound.
- A moment where something changed.
- Sometimes I zoom out to the ten thousand foot overview.
- Then I drop the audience back into the rollercoaster and bring the story home again.
- That is how you create movement.
A story should not be flat. It should have direction. It should take people somewhere.
The strawberry milkshake attack
One of my favorite examples happened during one of the be:Connected executive dinners. I was staying in a hotel in Manchester and walking toward the restaurant. I had just left the hotel.
And boom 💥
I bumped into a lady who was walking while looking at her phone.
She was holding a strawberry milkshake.
I was nicely dressed. And suddenly, I became a walking milkshake.
She felt terrible and apologized many times. At first, I was just surprised.
Then I started laughing. Really laughing.
Because when I looked at myself in the hotel window, I was dripping with strawberry milkshake. It was too funny.
I turned around and saw the doorman looking scared. Somehow, he immediately appeared with a mop and towels. I still do not know where he got them so fast.
I went back to my room, undressed, jumped in the shower, changed clothes, and went back out again fifteen minutes later.
And boy, did I have a story to tell.
A story about resiliency.
A story about what happens when you are attacked when you least expect it.
A story about how fast you can recover when something unexpected hits you.
People who were there probably still remember it. And when they see me, they may suddenly smell strawberry milkshake. That is what a story can do. It makes the concept physical. Resiliency is not just a technical term anymore. It becomes a human moment. It becomes a milkshake on a suit.
Sometimes you do not know if a story worked
I cannot immediately think of a story that completely failed, but I am sure there were stories in the beginning that did not work as well as I thought. Especially before my sixth sense for the room developed.
Sometimes you think a story landed, but only find out later that it was the wrong story, too long, off point, or badly timed. But the opposite also happens. Sometimes you tell a story and you do not know if it was good, great, awesome, or memorable until people tell you days, weeks, or even years later.
That is something to remember.
What you say on stage can stay with someone much longer than you realize.
It can even change someone’s life without you knowing.
That is a big responsibility. So choose your stories with care.
Storytelling should not replace the content
A story should help the technical content. It should not replace it. Storytelling is a tool to carry the content and make it easier to understand or remember. Especially with technical audiences, you need to respect the fact that people came to learn something. They may enjoy the story, but they still want value. They still want depth. They still want something they can take away and use.
That balance between entertainment, storytelling, and real technical value is part of my secret sauce. And it will be different for everyone. It is about how you tell it.
When you tell it.
What angle you use.
What information you include.
How you use your voice.
How you use your tone.
How you connect the story back to the topic.
You are not just storytelling around technical content. You are also educating. Use the story to explain things. Dive deeper if you feel the room wants that. Skip details if they are not landing.
Read the room. Know the audience. The story is not the destination. The story is the vehicle.
Storytelling is a learned skill
If someone says, “I am not a storyteller,” I would tell them this:
Storytelling is a learned skill. It is not only an innate talent. You can practice it. You can improve it. You can build it. But you need to understand what a story really is.
A sequence of events is not a story.
That is a log. This happened, then this happened, then this happened, then this happened. That is not enough. A true story needs transformation. Something changed. Someone learned something.
A problem appeared.
A decision was made.
A mistake happened.
A result surprised people.
A situation moved from one state to another.
Before you speak or write, ask yourself; What is this actually about? What changed because of what happened? That is where the story lives.
Start with the emotional core
To start storytelling, focus on the core emotional message. What is the feeling?
- Surprise?
- Fear?
- Relief?
- Joy?
- Frustration?
- Confusion?
- Embarrassment?
- Pride?
- Curiosity?
That emotion gives your story energy. Then find the specific story worthy moment. Not the entire project. Not the entire journey. The moment.
The Print Screen key that became Enter.
The milkshake hitting the suit.
The light going out on stage.
The audience suddenly going silent.
The big screens switching on when you did not expect them.
Those are the moments people remember.
Master the first ten seconds
Attention spans are short. So master the first ten seconds. The hook matters.
Do not start every story with a long chronological preamble.
“Well, in 2003, I was working on a project, and before I explain the project, I need to explain the customer environment, and before that, I need to explain the history of the technology...”
No.
Start closer to the moment.
“I pressed Print Screen, and suddenly I upgraded the domain.”
That is a hook.
“I left the hotel nicely dressed, and fifteen seconds later I was covered in strawberry milkshake.”
That is a hook.
“I turned around during my main stage session and suddenly saw myself huge on screens that were supposed to be off.”
That is a hook.
The hook pulls people in.
Then you can give the context.
Details matter, but not all details
Details can make a story come alive.
Smell.
Sound.
Color.
A facial expression.
A sentence someone said.
The feeling in the room.
The object in your hand.
The strawberry milkshake.
The welcome message on the screen.
The doorman with towels.
Those details help the audience see the story. But too many details can kill it. A story that should take two minutes can become ten minutes if you include everything. So choose details that carry the message.
Use your hands, use your voice, use silence. Drag people into the moment. Make them relive it with you, but do not drown them in information.
Humor inside stories
I often do not know upfront exactly where humor will fit. Sometimes it comes to me in the moment.
Something happens.
A thought appears.
I make a split second decision to add it or not.
But you need to be aware of your audience, the place, and the timing.
You are not telling a joke.
You are telling a story.
Sometimes there is already a joke inside the story. You just need to let the audience find it with you.
Not taking yourself too seriously helps.
If you are not afraid to show your failures, strange moments, or unexpected situations, you already have a library of things you can use.
But do not let the joke take over.
The humor should support the story.
The story should support the message.
And the message should support the audience.
That is the chain.
If the joke breaks the chain, leave it out.
How personal should a story be?
The boundary is different for everyone. What feels comfortable for me may not feel comfortable for you and that is okay.
Do not cross your own boundaries. That will bite you in the ass. A simple way to think about it is green, yellow, and red content.
Green content is safe. You would tell that story to a complete stranger without feeling uncomfortable. It supports the topic and does not expose you or anyone else too much.
Yellow content needs thought. You are not sure if you should tell it. Ask yourself why. Is it too personal? Could it be misunderstood? Does it reveal something sensitive? Does it need permission?
Red content should stay out. If it makes you deeply uncomfortable, makes you sad in a way that you cannot handle on stage, opens you up to sanctions, exposes confidential information, or makes people look strangely at you for the wrong reason, do not use it.
Authentic does not mean uncontrolled.
Personal does not mean unsafe.
Be real, but be wise.
Never tell a story over someone else’s back
This is important.
Never tell stories you are not allowed to tell.
Never embarrass other people intentionally.
Never tell a good story over someone else’s back.
If someone else is part of the story, think carefully. Do you have permission? Can you anonymize it? Could this hurt them? Would they be okay if they heard you tell it?
A powerful performer does not sacrifice other people for a laugh.
The goal is connection, not damage.
Common storytelling mistakes
There are several mistakes presenters make with stories.
Too much detail.
No clear point.
Too long.
Too much setup.
Inside jokes that only three people understand.
Making yourself the hero too much.
Forgetting to connect the story back to the audience.
That last one is a missed opportunity.
If the story does not connect back to the audience, the topic, or the lesson, people may enjoy it, but they may not know why it was there.
A good story should answer the silent audience question:
Why are you telling me this?
If you cannot answer that, the story may not belong.
Practice with simple stories
A good exercise is to take a simple children’s story and practice telling it in just a few sentences.
Then start adding details.
A funny detail.
A strange detail.
A sound.
A smell.
A small moment of tension.
Then notice when it becomes too much.
That is how you develop storytelling control.
You learn what to add.
You learn what to remove.
You learn when the audience leans in.
You learn when they drift away.
And most of all, you learn to enjoy it.
Because storytelling should be enjoyable.
For you and for the audience.
Do not make yourself the hero every time
It is fine to share success. If something went well, you can tell that story. But do not go over the top. If every story ends with you being the hero, the audience may disconnect.
Sometimes you are the hero.
Sometimes you are the one who made the mistake.
Sometimes you are the observer.
Sometimes the customer is the hero.
Sometimes the audience is the hero.
Sometimes the technology is the villain.
Sometimes the milkshake is the attacker.
Different roles make stories more interesting. And often, the stories where you are not perfect are the ones people remember most.
The key lesson
If readers remember only one thing from this part, I would say this:
Storytelling makes technology human, and human stories make messages stick. Do not just present facts. Create moments. Find the emotion. Use the hook. Bring in the right details. Connect the story back to the topic.
Respect your audience.
Respect the people in your stories.
And remember that a story is not there to replace the content. It is there to carry the content. Because when you tell a story well, people do not just understand the message.
They feel it.
And when they feel it, they remember it.
