There’s a quiet kind of power in giving a demo.
Not a pitch. Not a deck. Not a list of bullet points. A demo. Something real. Something you can see, hear, feel—even if it’s just for a moment.
A pitch gives you information. A demo gives you a reason to care. That’s the difference between knowledge and belief. Demos help people understand things faster. Deeper. They cut through noise. They invite questions you didn’t know to ask. They build trust, even before something’s finished.
I’ve come to believe they’re one of the most underrated tools we have—whether you’re selling a product, sharing progress, or just trying to get everyone on the same page.
Here are a few moments that reminded me why.
Tint
Somewhat recently, we checked out a car detailing shop to learn more about window tinting (specifically for UV protection). The owner was charismatic, enthusiastic, and patient. They answered all our questions. I took a bunch of notes (as one does).
But the thing I remember most?
A rotating little box by the front counter.
This demo box—made by the tint manufacturer XPEL—shows exactly how their product works and feels. It’s so simple, but so smart. Each side has a different film. In the center: heat lamps. Turn it on, and you can rotate the box to test how each film blocks heat.
The shop owner asked us to hold our hands in front of each side.
“See how this one feels cooler than the others?”
And just like that—in five seconds—I understood.
That’s a great demo.
Every day
In the world of software development, depending on your team setup, you may or may not have a weekly session where team members share demos.
That’s good. But in my opinion? It can be a lot better.
At work, I record a demo of what I’m working on—or something related to the project—multiple times a day. Every day. These are usually one-, two-, or three-minute Loom videos I share on Slack. Sometimes they’re longer: deeper dives, explainers, 8 minutes or more.
The content varies. It could be:
- a clip showing that something finally works,
- a walk-through to clarify how a flow is supposed to work,
- a quick receipt for QA to confirm a fix.
But no matter the topic, a few things remain consistent:
- I’m always on camera
- I’m always speaking
- I always show the experience on screen
- I never edit the video
Each of those choices is intentional.
Show and tell
That combination—camera, voice, screen, no edits—packs more than you’d think.
Camera
Being on camera humanizes the thing I’m working on. It reminds people there’s another human on the other side. You can see when I’m excited. Or confused. Or surprised when something breaks. That’s all useful context. That’s part of the story.
Voice
Speaking out loud is crucial. It doesn’t just convey the idea—I use it to understand the idea. By articulating the flow, the problem, the design, or the bug fix, I have to clarify it for myself first. If I can’t explain it clearly, it means I don’t fully understand it yet.
And yes—sometimes that means I record a few takes. Not to polish, but to get clearer. It’s part of how I think. It’s also a low-pressure way to practice speaking live and unscripted.
Screen
I always share my full screen. No cropped windows. No zoom-ins. It’s easier. Less fiddling. And more flexible—because I might need to pull in code snippets, screenshots, mockups, or a diagram mid-recording. Whatever helps tell the story.
If there’s no working product or prototype, I’ll show a design. Or a sketch. Or a diagram. Anything to get the point across.
Live
I could edit. But I choose not to.
Not because I’m lazy—because I want the demo to be honest. If it takes 30 seconds for something to load, I want you to see that. If something’s broken, I’ll explain it while it breaks.
When there’s dead air, I fill it. I talk through what’s happening. Why it’s taking long. What we’ve seen. What’s next. That transparency helps build trust. And it gives a real sense of how things work right now—not how they’ll work eventually.
Bugs
Quite often, I’ll catch bugs while recording.
In those cases, I’ll stop recording and go fix them. Those demos don’t get published—not because I’m hiding anything, but because by the time I’d post it, it’d already be outdated.
But when a demo includes bugs that aren’t central to the thing I’m demoing? I leave them in. It’s fine. These videos become a running log of issues, progress, context, and history. If you follow along, you can see the rough spots being smoothed over time.
Umbrella
I’ll leave you with this.
Thanks to the YouTube algorithm, I stumbled across a delightfully absurd, wordless product demo for a Chinese-made umbrella. It’s part parody, part brilliance.
- Look how waterproof it is.
- Look how indestructible it is.
- Look! It can cover two people with ease.
In about 15 seconds, the demo somehow redefines what you think an umbrella can be.
Now that’s a great demo.
See and feel
Demos aren’t just about showing progress. They’re about building trust. They help others see the work. Feel the work. Believe in the work.
It’s one thing to explain an idea. It’s another to let someone experience it—even for a moment. And that’s the power of a good demo. It makes the invisible, visible. The abstract, concrete. The maybe, real.
So whether it’s a car tint, a software flow, or a scrappy little umbrella…
Show the thing. Let people feel it. Let it speak for itself.