by Ron Ploof | Feb 26, 2018 | Business Storytelling
Many years ago, my wife and I attended a couples retreat in the San Fernando Valley. The first night, attendees sat in a circle and introduced themselves. As soon as one gentleman opened his mouth, I knew where he grew up.
“Lemme guess,” I said afterwards. “You’re from either Arlington or Somerville, Massachusetts.”
His wife laughed. “Sum-mah-ville,” she said, imitating her husband’s native tongue.
Most outsiders don’t realize that the “Boston accent” is as diverse as the city’s inhabitants. If you listen closely enough, you can hear subtle differences that allow you to pinpoint specific parts of the city. For example, folks from Boston’s North End sound very different than those from “Southy.”
My twenty years as a Southern California resident hasn’t diminished my skills. Not long ago, I had a telephone call with a guy in Arizona. After we’d wrapped up our conversation, I said, “I need to tell you that you’re are making me homesick. I can tell from your accent that we probably grew up within a few miles of one another.”
“Really?” he said. “I grew up in Billerica, Massachusetts. Where did you grow up?”
“Tewksbury,” I said. Tewksbury and Billerica share a border.
My interest in accents offers a lesson in assumptions. We make assumptions all the time. And although Felix Unger says that we should never assume, life would be impossibly frustrating without it. Making assumptions about everyday activities frees our lives from the trappings of trivial minutia. We’re constantly assuming that other drivers will stay in their lanes, liquids labelled as coffee will be hot, and that darkened street corners should be avoided.
Assumptions play two vital roles in any story. First, they spare storytellers the toil of explaining infinitesimal details. Storytellers rely on their audience’s astute ability to connect the dots, thus freeing them to paint the common parts of a picture with a limited palate of colors.
The second role requires a wrong assumption. Wrong assumptions can occur in two ways: either the storyteller has intentionally led the audience to make a bad assumption, or a character has initiated a calamity by making one—like I did recently with my accent game.
The barista at a local coffee shop had an east coast accent…well, sort of. There was something off about it. I’d listen closely every morning, but just couldn’t pinpoint its origin. Perhaps I was losing my touch. Or, perhaps I was hearing an exotic new accent for the first time. And so, I finally asked.
“May I ask where you were raised?”
“Right here in Southern California,” she said.
“Really?” I tried to clarify. “Were you born here?”
“Yes,” she said as she rang up my order.
This made no sense. How could she have been raised locally but sound as if she learned English three-thousand miles away? “That’s interesting,” I said, “because you have an accent that sounds northeastern.”
“Oh,” she said cheerily. “That’s not an accent. I have a speech impediment.”
Oops.
We are assumption-based beings. Most of the time, we get ‘em right. When we don’t, however, we get a story.
What assumptions do you make every day? What about your customers? Which ones do you always get right? More importantly, which ones do you get wrong? The latter always leads to a better story.
Photo Credit: Mrs. Guilford Dudley of Nashville with ear trumpet, talking into ear of Democratic donkey, played by Mrs. Mary Semple Scott in skit atNational American Woman Suffrage Association in Chicago. Chicago Illinois, 1920. Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/95507721/.
by Ron Ploof | Feb 20, 2018 | Business Storytelling
Last week we discussed how right words combined with the most significant details created one-sentence stories. But, what exactly is the most significant detail? If you’re preparing for a meeting with your boss, writing a press release, or authoring a presentation, how do you identify the most important components to focus on?
Let’s consider the story of four numbers: 1, 4, 5, 9
How would we rank each digit in terms of significance? One way would be through magnitude:
- 9 is most significant, because it is the largest
- 5 is the next most significant because it is the next largest.
- 4 is the next most significant because it is the next largest.
- 1 is the least significant because it’s the smallest.
But what if, rather than listing them separately, we created a different story, like 1,459?
Essentially, 1,459 tells the story of four different numbers: 1000 + 400 + 50 + 9. In this story, a digit’s significance has more to do with its location than its relative magnitude.
- 1 is now the most significant digit because it represents 1,000
- 4 is the next most significant because it represents 400
- 5 is the next most significant because it represents 50
- 9 is least significant digit because it only represents itself.
It all depends upon the context. Sometimes ‘9’ is more significant than a ‘1’ and vice-versa.
So, what are the most significant details in your story? What’s the most significant role, event, or influence? The answers to these questions will form a solid frame for you to build your story upon.
Photo Credit: Higgins, Roger, photographer. Shirley Chisholm, head-and-shoulders portrait, facing left, standing with right arm raised, looking at list of numbers posted on a wall / World Telegram & Sun photo by Roger Higgins. New York, 1965. November 2. Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2005676944/.
by Ron Ploof | Feb 12, 2018 | Business Storytelling
I stumbled upon one of those radio shows where people call-in to request songs. That’s when I heard one of the most powerful, single-story sentences ever.
Listener Cynthia requested a song. When the host asked if she wanted to dedicate it to someone, the caller said no. She explained that the song held special meaning because it helped her beat cancer.
I found myself leaning in to hear more.
She then described a lonely battle with the disease—one that she completed without her husband. “I left him after my 2nd chemo treatment,” she said.
The statement hit me in the gut. I felt empathy for her and wanted to know more. My mind went into overdrive to piece together the massive amount of information contained in those eight, simple words. So, what made those words more impactful than any other eight words?
1. They contained many facts that a) revealed how Cynthia was in the midst of her cancer treatments, b) her husband was presumably there in the beginning, and c) something happened by the end of her second treatment that resulted in her decision to leave.
2. Those facts defied all expectations. Cancer stories usually have one of two endings: triumph or defeat. Both are typically supported by a cast of loved ones. But this story throws a huge twist at us. If Cynthia left her husband during one of the most vulnerable times in her life, where did this reservoir of strength come from? Why did she have to use it? And what did her husband do (or not do?) to precipitate such an extraordinary response?
3. The facts were delivered using brilliant word choice.
Let’s parse the sentence: “I left him after my second chemo treatment.”
I – delivers Cynthia’s message through the first-person POV
left him – Listener’s have prior knowledge that breakups are emotional. Therefore, it’s natural for listeners to experience that same emotion instantly.
chemo treatment – sets off a series cognitive connections within the listener’s brain to long, torturous therapies that can make an extremely sick person feel even sicker.
second – is the glue that holds this single-sentence story together because it establishes a pattern. The word infers that there was a first treatment, followed by an event (or series of events) that forced Cynthia to leave her husband.
Single-story sentences give just enough information to ignite a story fire within the listener’s head. Can you write one? Give it a try. Use carefully chosen words to present facts that defy listener expectations. It’s not easy, but when done well, it connects with an audience in unparalleled ways.
Photo Credit: Adams, Ansel, photographer. Nurse Aiko Hamaguchi and patient Toyoko Ioki, Manzanar Relocation Center, California / photograph by Ansel Adams. California Manzanar, 1943. Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2002697853/.
by Ron Ploof | Jan 29, 2018 | Business Storytelling
Have you ever been hooked by the opening of a story only to be disappointed at the end? Where the story opened with so much promise that you hung on every word, yet progressively lost interest as the story unfolded, only to end with a whimper instead of a bang? This unsatisfying experience is the result of a communicator who didn’t prepare the three whats of storytelling: What?; So, What?; and Wait! What?
1) “What?”
The first what refers to the story’s purpose. Without establishing a purpose, storytellers risk taking their audiences on aimless journeys. The problem is easily fixed by asking preparatory questions like:
- “What’s the reason for telling this story?”
- “What do I want to accomplish by the end of it?”
- “What do I want the audience to glean from the story?”
The answers can be as simple as “I want to make a point,” “I want to convince,” or “I want the audience to remember.”
2) “So, What?”
Sometimes the purpose is clear, yet it’s so transparently self-serving that the audience tunes out. Unfortunately, most marketing messages fall into this category. The best way to fix such blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada stories is to test your purpose with “So, what?“
Let’s give it a try:
“We are the worldwide leader in widget manufacturing.”
So what?
“We’re the world’s largest widget manufacturer.”
So what?
“Our factories have double the capacity of our nearest competitor.”
Better, but so what?
“Our large capability drives per-widget costs lower and so we can pass that savings to you.”
Bingo.
Hone your message through a recursive use of “So, what?” When you can’t come up with any new answers, you’ve probably hit a something that’s meaningful to your audience.
3) “Wait! What?”
Finally, with a message that has both purpose and relevance, consider spicing it up with a surprise fact. When used effectively, Wait! What? moments add depth and memorability to your story.
For example, did you know that a failed attempt at building a death ray lead to safer air travel and rapidly heated food?
During World War II, the allies wanted to create a death ray that could boil an enemy pilot in the cockpit. Although sound in theory, generating and transmitting the necessary energy proved impractical. However, that’s when the engineers considered a different approach. Rather than trying to blast the plane with a destructive amount of energy, what if they focused a low-power beam on the target and measured the energy reflected back?
As a result of their failed attempt at creating a a death ray, the allies stumbled onto two very different, yet successful applications: RADAR and the microwave oven.
Look at your story through the lens of the three whats. I promise that your audiences will love you for it.
Photo Credit: Wild, J. C. , Approximately , Lithographer, and Charles Fenderich. The three sweet-hearts / Fenderich d’apres Grevedon. , ca. 1844. [Philadelphia: Published by Fenderich & Wild Lithographers No. 215 Callowhill Street ; New York: Published by Tas. Cotrel No. 97 Fulton Street] Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2004681704/.
by Ron Ploof | Jan 22, 2018 | Business Storytelling
Have you ever demonstrated something? Perhaps you wanted to show off a new gadget or convince a friend to download your favorite app? How’d it go? If your first demo experience was anything like mine, you likely crashed and burned.
I learned the art of giving a software demo almost thirty years ago after a company, Analog Design Tools, hired me as an applications engineer to support their circuit simulation software package called The Analog Workbench. The reason my first demo failed was because I mistakenly believed that my power-user knowledge would translate into a good demo. What I didn’t understand at the time was that tool-use and and tool-demos are very different things—resulting in a demo script that sounded something like this:
“The Analog Workbench is great. You can do this and that. I like to use this thing over here. Oh! And here’s something really cool that you can do.”
Looking back on that first demo, it’s clear that I didn’t understand the difference between narrative and story.
Luckily, my audience that day was a co-worker instead of a customer, who assessed my performance with brutal honesty. “Although you showed all of the right features, you missed the most important part of any demo…context. Why should a customer care about a feature? What does it mean to them? How will it make their life better?”
I limped back to my desk and thought about what he said. Demos aren’t about the tool. They’re about getting the audience to see themselves using it.
A few days later, my co-worker stopped by my office. “The Sales manager wants you out in the field ASAP, but you need to give him a demo first. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I said unconvincingly.
“You’ll be fine,” he reassured. “Just remember: context.”
The second demo audience consisted of my coworker and the sales director. I opened by introducing myself as the company’s newest applications engineer who’s been using the Analog Workbench for over two years. I then looked at my co-worker and asked, “Have you ever had to calculate a sensitivity analysis by hand?”
He smiled, knowing exactly where I was going. “Yes,” he played along.
“It used to take me days to crank all of those calculations manually,” I continued. “And that’s only if I didn’t make a mistake. Sometimes it could take an additional day to find and fix a math error. Has this ever happened to you?”
My coworker nodded. The sales manager leaned in.
“Now, imagine if you could replace all of those manual calculations with the push of a button.” I clicked the mouse button and the computer started chugging. “And imagine if that button not only initiated all of your sensitivity analysis calculations—correctly—but it also plotted the results for you. Well,” I said just as the screen revealed a ranked list of components, “now you can.”
I spent the rest of the demo showing how the Analog Workbench could make their circuit design lives easier, just as it had mine.
“So, what do you think?” my co-worker asked the sales manager.
The sales manager slapped the table. “He’s a natural. Let’s get him out there.”
Learning how to give a demo set the roots to my career as a business storyteller. It’s where I learned to prioritize the audience’s needs over my own. It also lead to a presentation technique that I’ve used ever since. Whenever I need to bond with an audience, I open with three simple words:
“Have you ever…?”
This triple-threat phrase:
- Establishes a shared experience between audience and presenter
- Carries credibility (you’ve been there before)
- Helps those unfamiliar with the situation experience it vicariously through you
So, the next time you need to bond with an audience, help them make your story their story through three little words.
“Have you ever…?”
Photo Credit: Bain News Service, Publisher. Firemen’s School – demonstrating magneto. , ca. 1910. [Between and Ca. 1915] Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/ggb2004009610/
by Ron Ploof | Jan 15, 2018 | Business Storytelling
I once worked for a company that marketed its product as productivity tool. The problem? Our customers considered it a quality tool. The mismatch in expectations occurred because we didn’t think through the complicated interaction between people with different motivations.
The StoryHow™ Method is based on the mantra: a story is the result of people pursuing what they want. The statement forces business storytellers to ask questions about the roles, events, and influences that drive all stories.
The roles in this example are: business managers, users, the product (let’s call it ABC), and some supporting cast.
Business managers love to hear the productivity story because it supports their need to justify a purchase. “If we buy this software, our employees will get more done in less time, thus increasing production without increasing labor costs.” Yet, the productivity story is hampered by a simple fact: managers rarely use the products that they purchase and so they may not understand the role that ABC plays in the midst of other characters and their motivations.
The old proverb, “Those at the end of a process make up for the sins of their predecessors” is appropriate in this instance because ABC was installed on a production line. Someone at the front of the line began building a widget, passed it onto the ABC user who worked it some more, who then continued passing it down the chain.
The productivity story is built on an expectation that ABC users will a) complete their tasks faster and b) pass that extra time onto the next person in the chain. However, that assumption breaks down if, like in this instance, the line workers were measured on quality rather than productivity. So, rather than passing the extra time down the line, ABC users had more time to iterate on the widget and ultimately passed a higher quality work product to the next person in the line. The completed product required less rework, had less returns, less warranty issues, and ultimately, increased customer satisfaction scores. As a side benefit, ABC also helped increase employee satisfaction for those poor souls at the end of the line.
Most companies tell the wrong story because they fail to study the complicated role that their products and services play within an ecosystem of people with different motivations. That’s why it’s important to remember the StoryHow™ Mantra: a story is the result of people pursuing what they want.
So, are you telling the right story?
Photo Credit: Bain News Service, Publisher. [Assembly line Vicker Sons & Maxim Gun Factory]. , . [No Date Recorded on Caption Card] Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/ggb2004000265/
