Most consultants I know dramatically underestimate how much valuable advice they have to share. They think they need a trademarked framework or a slick model with arrows pointing in reassuring directions. That’s a mistake.

It makes them overlook the far more valuable thing they already have: a whole library of ideas they routinely share with clients in conversation.

Forget the fancy frameworks for a minute. What you need first is a private database of what you know how to teach.

This isn’t a list of everything you teach every client. It’s a catalog of everything you could teach, depending on the moment. Think of it as a working archive where leverage quietly accumulates. You don’t consult from this database directly. You draw from it selectively, deliberately, and often invisibly.

Here’s the daily practice that builds it.

At the end of each day, write down two things you taught a client. Not what you delivered or produced. Write down what you explained. What you reframed. Or, the moment you helped them finally see something clearly. That’s when the real value changes hands.

Each entry in your informal database has two parts: the principle, then the story. Always list the principle first. The story comes second.

And by “story,” I mean the example you used to make your point. It could be the story of the client conversation itself – what you said, how it landed, and what the client decided to do with the idea. The story isn’t for entertainment. It’s for buy-in. People resist being told what’s true, but they relax when they recognize something familiar. A story lets them nod before they argue, and that nod is what makes the idea usable.

Here’s an example of what something I wrote down in my own database:

The principle: The first line of your elevator speech should be clear, not clever.

The story: I learned this elevator-speech approach from watching people listen. When you tell someone what you do, they’re trying to pigeonhole you as fast as they can so they can relax and know what’s expected of them. Your job is not to resist. By all means, let them put you in a conceptual box. It helps them loosen up and focus.

It’s like when you sit down in a restaurant and ask the waiter what’s good, and he starts rattling off exotic dish names you’ve never heard. You don’t relax into curiosity. You tighten up. You’re still searching for an organizing principle. But the moment you realize, “Oh, this is a Mexican restaurant,” everything shifts. Now you can actually hear what he’s saying.

Your elevator speech works the same way. Start with something blunt: “I help Apple and Intuit with their international growth.” The listener still doesn’t know how you do that, and that’s fine. If they’re interested, they’ll ask. If they don’t, no amount of cleverness would have changed that.

This is why I have a visceral reaction to cute elevator speeches like, “I’m a sherpa for executives.” It feels like the speaker is playing keep-away. The speech carries the odor of a sales pitch nobody asked for. When someone answers that way, I usually disengage. (Or, I say, “Friend, you need to hire me to help you, ASAP.")

This is what your database is really for. It’s not for publishing or branding, at least not at first. It’s for capturing the actual value you create in real conversations before it evaporates. That way, you can use your best ideas, insights, exercises, and stories, again and again.