Years ago, I was working for a consulting company. The president, Sandy Moore, invited me to a lunch appointment with an executive from one of our largest clients. Sandy knew this executive well; they had worked together for decades.

The lunch conversation was casual. Sandy and the executive discussed golf, college-aged children, and a musical they’d both seen in New York City. I was completely out of my element. I didn’t play golf. My children were in diapers, not college. I went to movies, not Broadway musicals. Besides, how was any of that banter germane to the multimillion-dollar relationship between our two companies? Why did Sandy ask me to attend this lunch?

Eventually, in an eff ort to contribute to the conversation, I abruptly changed the subject and started talking about technology trends, recent projects, and some of the key employees of our consulting fi rm. Sandy looked at me as if I had said or done something offensive. It was awkward.

I was expected to be an expert, but I floundered in that setting. If the client was not interested in my thoughts about technology, processes, quality, or controls, then how could I make a meaningful impact? I was lost. But Sandy knew something I did not. She knew that trust in a relationship comes before technology. If you do not have the client’s trust, then no explanation of system designs, development, or deployment will matter to them. Sandy was interested in establishing a relationship of trust while I was only interested in expounding on technology.