Social media: It’s for the birds

Last week I went outside to fill my bird feeders. With a thick layer of snow and ice on the ground, I figured my feathered friends would appreciate a little food delivery service. 

After I filled the feeders, I poured a cup of coffee, settled into a chair facing the window, and waited for the grateful flocks. And waited. And waited. And waited.

Inexplicably, I soon found myself thinking of social media – and the lessons to be learned from my bird-feeding failings. I offer them for your edification.

Be consistent. Why didn’t the birds show up? Because this was the first time in weeks that I had put out food. Birds need to know to expect food at your place or they’ll quit showing up. Sure, if you put something out every now and then, one of them might stumble onto your feeder as part of a flyover, but you’ll never establish a regular clientele with that approach. See the social media connection?

Give ’em what they want. Buying the cheap bird-seed mixes at the hardware store will attract a few birds, but you’ll do a lot better – and attract more interesting birds – if you learn what your local birds like best and give it to them. Are you getting this?

Live with the squirrels. It’s true: If you put out good seed, you’ll attract not only birds but also squirrels and chipmunks. And if you blog, Tweet, etc., you’ll also attract a fair amount of squirrels. Deal with it.

Plant seeds. So, you’re enjoying this whole bird-feeding thing, eh? Want to take it up a notch? Plant flowers that produce seeds birds like. Grow some purple cone flowers and watch the finches go nuts. Put in some sunflowers and you’ll make the cardinals happy. And you won’t have to go out every day to fill the feeders. The social media analogy? Create a place (a really good blog, an engaging Twitter feed) where others carry on the conversation even when you’re not there.

Feed the big mouths. While blue jays can be bullies around the bird feeder, they also have a great system for letting others know where the peanuts are. They grab a peanut, fly to a treetop and call out to their buddies. Attract big mouths to your social media efforts, and you won’t have to crow about what you’re doing … they’ll do it for you.

Anecdotes all around you — put them to work

Just a few minutes into his State of the Union speech last week, President Barak Obama reached into the toolkit shared by every president (and every presidential speechwriter) in recent memory and pulled out a reliable old tool: the anecdote.

You know the routine: In order to make a point, the president tells a story – the story of some hard-working, down-to-earth American who embodies the spirit or issue about which the president is speaking. These days, that story is inevitably accompanied by a nod or admiring look toward the First Lady’s box, where the main character in the story has been given a seat of honor.

An example from last week: “One mother of two, a woman named Kathy Proctor, had worked in the furniture industry since she was 18 years old,” President Obama said. “And she told me she’s earning her degree in biotechnology now, at 55 years old, not just because the furniture jobs are gone, but because she wants to inspire her children to pursue their dreams too. As Kathy said, ‘I hope it tells them to never give up.’”

Why do presidents resort to this sort of showmanship? Because it works – it puts a human face on an issue, giving listeners something to relate to. As a result, one story can make a difference that no set of statistics, government studies or expert commentary can.

Professional communicators know why this works. People remember stories; they forget numbers. People respond to anecdotes; they skim over statistics. Faced with a story, people act; faced with data, people turn the page.

For a vivid example of this principle at work, look at The Indianapolis Star’s ongoing series “Our Children, Our City.”

For years, the people of Indianapolis have heard about the sorry state of the city’s public schools. They’ve seen countless data tables that measure the failure. They’ve read expert commentary describing the need for parental and public involvement. They’ve heard about national studies that describe the long-term impact of negligence.  And, by and large, they’ve done nothing.

Then The Star put a reporter in the classrooms on a weekly basis and told the stories of the people they met there. Teachers, students, parents, administrators and so on. And the people of Indianapolis engaged. Teachers who struggled to gather the materials for their classrooms were overwhelmed with gifts. Students who needed mentors got them. A Christmas concert that once attracted only a handful of family members sold out. A family with school-aged kids who struggled to get by while living in a low-rent motel room suddenly had more clothes, toys and essentials than they could manage.

What made the difference? Anecdotes. Where do we find anecdotes? All around us. How do we find them? We ask. We listen. We watch. We learn. And then we tell the stories.

After all, if it works for the president, won’t it work for your organization?

Get it in writing to get the story straight

The following blog first appeared on Achieve’s blog, at http://www.achieveguidance.com/blog/get-it-in-writing-to-get-the-story-straight.

Not long ago, I asked a board on which I serve to do a little exercise. Each person on the board was to send me an email answering the following questions about one of our key programs:

• What do we want to achieve – what are our objectives for this program and its subparts?
• Are we accomplishing our objectives?
• How do we measure success?

The initial reaction to my request was impatience. Some of the board members seemed to think it was a needless exercise. After all, the program had been going on for some time and “everybody knows” the answers to these questions. And, besides, couldn’t we just have a conversation and get this taken care of? 

“Humor me,” I said.

As you might guess, when I got the emailed responses, they didn’t suggest the notion that “everybody knows” the program’s objectives. In fact, the answers varied widely in some cases. After that exercise, we were able to begin a process that resulted in radical change to the program, and a new level of success.

Unfortunately, this “everybody knows” mentality is common with nonprofit boards, and it develops for a number of reasons. For example, a board member often carries forward the mindsets and opinions of the person who recruited him or her; in other cases, a member might join a board with such a passion for the cause that he or she sees it as a moral commitment … that “must” be shared by everyone.

So, it pays to ask the question. But why ask for an email rather than a conversation? For a few reasons:

• Everyone must contribute. In a meeting, it’s easy for people to drop out of the conversation.
• People can’t simply nod and move on. Strong personalities can steer public conversations. In private, people have to deliver their own thoughts. Remember: If you’re seeking to gather information, go one-on-one; if you’re looking to deliver information broadly or generate ideas, the group dynamic often works best.
• People think more when they write. Forced to put something into writing, we tend to consider it more deeply and, therefore, offer something that reflects a core idea rather than the first thing that comes into our minds.
• You know who said what. Individual statements can get lost in meeting minutes. If someone says something that needs to be addressed directly, it’s much easier to have that conversation if you have a direct attribution.
• You know who can deliver information succinctly, and who needs to be coached. You need your board members to be able to describe your organization and its mission in clear, simple terms. If you get their thoughts in writing, you’ll know right away if certain board members are struggling to deliver your key messages succinctly or if they simply have the messages wrong. From this exercise, you might discover that you need to have a Mission 101 session with your board, and a workshop on describing that mission.

Generally speaking, I’m a big fan of group discussions. The collective wisdom and big ideas that can flow from a good meeting cannot be matched by one person sitting alone. But there are times when you need to do a reality check, and when that’s the case, it’s often best to get it in writing.

If you asked your board for this kind of email, would you get what “everybody knows”? Or would you get the clear message that you have a lot of work to do with your board.

When’s the last time you set foot into a working classroom?

Several years ago, I was volunteering in my son’s first grade classroom when one of his classmates asked, “Why are you wearing that?” It took me a moment to figure out what he was referring to. “Why am I wearing a suit?” I asked. “Because I have to go to a meeting when I leave here.” Then it dawned on me: This young boy was not accustomed to seeing a woman in a suit.

From then on, I’ve encouraged business people – well, everyone, really – to volunteer in and visit our schools, if for no other reason than to expose kids to the professional world and let the kids see that the professional world cares.

If problems in our public schools dishearten you, then do something about it. If you have kids in school, volunteer to help in the classroom or with the PTO. If you don’t have kids, call your neighborhood school and ask about volunteer opportunities.

You don’t have to do anything major. Just read with a small group of children. Play a math game with a couple of students, or participate in a one-on-one mentoring project. If you can’t get away from work during the day, offer to help with an evening event, or tutor a child. The time you spend will be well worth it. And if doing it for the general good doesn’t move you to action, think about this: You’ll be spending time with your future workforce. Start training them now. Start showing them what’s possible today.

Well-rubbed elbows: Making the connection

Early in my career, I had a boss who was rarely in the office.  To my youthful irritation, he seemed to always breeze into the office ready for a chat about the time I was leaving for home. 

What I didn’t realize is that he was working his tail off all day, meeting people and rubbing elbows.  This really hit home when I attended an Indiana Black Expo Corporate Luncheon, an event so well attended it was held on the floor of the Hoosier Dome. Bill spent the entire three hours working the room and connecting.  He never ate.

It wasn’t until I read Malcolm Gladwell’s bestseller “The Tipping Point” that I was able to put a name to what Bill was about, and to appreciate the value of his work. Bill is a connector, someone who, according to Gladwell, knows large numbers of people across an array of social, cultural, professional and economic circles, and who is in the habit of introducing people who work or live in different circles.

Bill certainly fits that bill.  Not only does he have an extraordinary knack for making friends and acquaintances in many different worlds, he’s never been shy about reaching out to his connections when he needs something they can deliver.  He always could call on all sorts of folks and get things done – all because of his connections and the way he used them. 

I learned a lot from Bill, but I especially learned about the extraordinary value of connections. What connections do you have, and what difference do they make?

Special Holiday Case Study from JTPR Inc

In the spirit of the season, we shared the following special “case study” with our clients. Maybe you’ll find something in it that can guide your business to new success in 2011.

You might have noticed the success enjoyed by our longtime client Santa Claus Ltd. While we can’t take all the credit for the firm’s perennial achievements, we are proud to have played a role … and we wanted to share a few of the communications strategies and tactics we’ve employed on S.C. Ltd.’s behalf, just in case you see something that could help drive your organization’s success in 2011.

Case Study – Santa Claus Ltd.

 Communications Objective: Raise profile of organization to enhance spreading of joy.

 Sampling of Implemented Strategies:

1.      Literary brand support

• Tactic: Published book to push brand into marketplace

o Result: “Night Before Christmas” a worldwide best-seller

o BONUS RESULT: Visions of sugar plums dancing in heads

 2.      Buzz campaign

• Tactic: Promoted word-of-mouth peer marketing among “believers”

o Result: Pervasive use of the phrase “What’s Santa bringing you?” drove brand recognition to new levels

 3.      Multi-location meet-and-greets

• Tactic: Secured sponsorships with local malls to place S.C. Ltd. representatives wearing distinctive red-and-white uniforms in highly visible public locations

o Result: Long lines of fans waiting for photo opps

o BONUS RESULT: 1-on-1 surveys allow collection of data with audience wants

4.      Co-branding with firm’s surveillance division

• Tactic: Made “Santa’s Watching” a recognized tagline

o Result: Parents report increases in good behavior

5.      Product placement

• Tactic: Place images of CEO in motion pictures

o Result: See appendix list that includes A Christmas Story, Miracle on 34^th Street, The Santa Clause (1,2 and 3), and Santa Claus versus the Zombies

6.      Barter for professional goods and services

• Tactic: Traded access to firm’s “Nice” list for PR services

o Result: The opportunity for JTPR to work with the nicest clients  and collaborators possible

Making it personal

Occasionally, something reminds us that communication is innately personal – or, at least, at its best it is.

A few weeks ago, I decided to write a few notes of thanks and encouragement to some friends and people with whom I’ve served on committees. An habitual “encourager,” I like to let people know when I think they’ve done a nice job, or acknowledge a struggle and urge them on.

I’ve found social media to be a great tool in this effort, because I can, with one quick Tweet, Facebook note or blog posting, not only pass along my encouragement, but also alert others to a job well done or a need for compassion, and provoke them to add their warm wishes and kind words. Almost without fail, the virtual community quickly surrounds the person in need or applauds the person who has gone above and beyond. The cumulative effect can be powerful.

When I got the urge a few weeks ago, however, I decided to do something unusual: actually put pen to paper. Nothing fancy or creative – just simple little notes, written by hand on nice letterhead I got as a gift a few years ago. I scrawled a few lines (if you’ve seen my handwriting, you’ll know that “scrawl” is the operative word here), folded paper, licked envelopes, applied stamps and walked out to the mailbox. No great struggle, no great effort, no great achievement.

The reaction, however, was great. Having received a personal note, recipients responded in an even more personal manner. They sought me out at meetings, waited patiently while I talked with someone after church, or found me in crowded rooms. And then, without fail, they reached out and touched my arm or shook my hand, looked me square in the eye and said, “Thank you for your note.”

Over the last couple of years, I’ve received wonderful emails in response to Facebook notes, nice ReTweets after Tweets, and warm comments after blog posts. But no one has ever responded to a social media post with a warm touch and an eye-to-eye “Thank you.” I’ve written for a lot of publications, received praise and awards for articles and speeches, and gathered thoughtful, meaningful responses to blog postings. But none of them were as powerful as those “Thank yous.”

One of the books I’m reading is “When the Game Was Ours,” a semi-first-person account of the years when Magic Johnson and Larry Bird ruled the NBA.  In the offseason after the 1984 NBA Finals, in which Bird’s Celtics manhandled Johnson’s Lakers, LA coach Pat Riley did something unusual: He sent letters to each Laker, telling them to put the loss behind them and work for the next championship. In the letter to Magic Johnson, Riley told Johnson he loved him, considered him to be a warrior, and expected him to come to training camp full of passion and ready to avenge the loss.

In 1985, the Lakers won it all. I’m not suggesting those letters made the difference. But they did help to forge a personal connection between the coach and the players – a personal connection no Tweet or Facebook posting could ever match.

My point is not that social media is evil and we should communicate solely by means of handwritten notes. The point is that, while we’re mining social media for its broad impact, quick access and high-tech fun, we must not forget that sometimes communication should be more personal and meaningful. And sometimes that means digging into the bottom of that desk drawer, pulling out that old letterhead, gripping a pen and writing, “Dear …” You might not make a broad impression, but the odds are good you will make a deep one.

A lesson learned from Bobby Fong’s resignation

Butler University student Lexie Beach learned an unforgettable lesson last week. The bad news? It was a tough lesson. The good news? It will serve the public relations student well in her career.

 “We all feel just a little betrayed,” Beach told the Indianapolis Star.

 Why the sense of betrayal? Because Beach and many of her fellow Butler students first learned of Butler President Bobby Fong’s plan to leave his job via – egad! – social media.

Last week, when Indianapolis learned that Fong would be leaving Butler to assume the presidency of Ursinus College, the word first leaked to the community via Twitter and Facebook. By the time official announcements came from Ursinus and Butler, Indianapolis already was buzzing with the news.

“A lot of people were upset that the students and faculty were the last ones to find out,” Beach told the Star.

But wait: In a time when social media is trumpeted as the younger generation’s preferred form of communication, shouldn’t students be fine with getting news through Facebook posts? Shouldn’t they expect to get important information through their iPhones and Twitter feeds?

Apparently not. It seems Beach and her fellow Bulldogs would have preferred a more personal touch. The official letter issued after an Ursinus press conference was too little too late, especially considering Fong’s reputation as an open and accessible leader.

The message here? That, even in this age of social media, one of public relations’ foundational rules still holds: Do everything you can to let your audiences hear important news directly from you rather than through outside sources.

In “the old days,” that generally meant reaching out to your audiences before they got news from newspapers, TV or radio. Now that also means making sure you make contact before the social media channels start buzzing.

Of course, things aren’t always so simple. In this case, Fong has a new audience to think about, and some would argue that it would have been inappropriate to announce the news to the Butler community before the Ursinus community. Given the nature of the announcement, it likely would have been impossible to give it the kind of personal touch Fong has used so well in the past.

No doubt, Beach will learn about such complexities as she continues her schooling. She’ll read case studies about the right and wrong ways to communicate, and she’ll get good instruction from her professors. But this lesson likely will be the one that sticks with her. You can bet that, in the future, when she’s developing strategies for communicating big news, she’ll evaluate all of her options, consider the many opportunities presented by various outlets and media, and do everything she can to communicate the news as effectively and efficiently as possible.

And she’ll probably always – always – strive to communicate directly with her audiences first, a habit that will serve her, her audiences and her employers well.

The power of storytelling … It’s in the details

Does storytelling matter? Compare the following paragraphs we’ve written to highlight the same issue, but in very different ways: 

• In Romania, 12 percent of the population lives in severe poverty; there are only approximately 5 working adults per elderly pensioner (this could approach 1:1 by 2050); retirement age for women is 60; life expectancy at birth for women is 75-80. In an economically and politically struggling country where public services are unreliable at best, this puts an undue poverty burden on older women.
• On a brilliant Bucharest morning, as I waited for a friend in front of a glass and stucco home, I noticed an elderly woman emerging from a tall, tattered concrete building a half-block away. Stooped and slow and dressed in the multi-patterned dress, apron, sweater and scarf favored by Romania’s matriarchs, she made her way past the rubbish and rubble in an abandoned lot. Wondering why she would take a walk in such a place, I watched casually – and then with shock – as she chose a place only slightly hidden from view, pulled her skirt around her, squatted, and went about a business most of us would reserve for only the most private of places.  

Now, which paragraph is more memorable? The one with a list of stats, or the one that offers the description of a single woman? Which one gives you the more compelling image of aging in Romania? And, finally, which might compel you to act if you were asked to support an organization combating poverty among the elderly in Romania?

Most of us accept that storytelling matters in communications, but what we often overlook is the importance of vivid detail in storytelling. As a result, we often lose our audience, because details not only bring stories to life, they also lend them credibility.

For an example of this truth at work, I draw from a bit of World War II espionage. As recently described in New Yorker article, “Operation Mincemeat” was an Allied effort to fool Hitler into defending the wrong shoreline in Southern Europe by dropping a dead body into the water off the coast of Spain. The body had been dressed in a British uniform, and a black attaché case had been chained to its arm. Among the items in the attaché case was a very official-looking envelope with what appeared to be plans for an invasion on German positions in Greece and Sardinia.

Of course, the Allies had no intention of invading those positions. But the Germans, to whom the attaché case’s contents ultimately found their way, fell for the ruse, so they quickly shifted their defenses to Greece and Sardinia … making the Allies’ July 10, 1943, attack on Sicily much easier.

But success really was not that simple. The Germans, as it turns out, were suspicious of the intelligence, and they debated whether they should trust it. After all, espionage often relied on elaborate hoaxes. Eventually, though, the thoroughness of the deceit overwhelmed their suspicions.

How? The team that put the body into the water had crafted an elaborate identity for the dead man and then supported that identity with compelling detail. The body wore military boots and a trenchcoat. Its pockets were packed with normal, everyday items, such as a tailor’s bill and letters from creditors.  It carried love letters from a woman who wrote, “Please don’t let them send you off into the blue the horrible way they do nowadays … I don’t think I could bear it.” With such vivid detail, the dead man’s story, well, came to life.

What does this have to do with your next product announcement or communications initiative? If good, detailed storytelling can give a dead body the power to turn the tide in a battle, just imagine what it could do for you.

Speaking in tongues: Drop the jargon, in social media and beyond

If you hang out anywhere long enough, you’ll likely adopt bits of the local lingo.

It’s not a carved-in-stone rule, but it is a common phenomenon. Over time, Northerners who move south might catch themselves saying, “Y’all.” Midwesterners relocating north might hear themselves ordering a “soda” instead of a generic “coke.”

And people who spend too much time in the executive suite one day will stop noticing that they use “leverage” as a verb, that they say, “At the end of the day …” unself-consciously, and that they talk about “monetizing the upside potential” with a straight face.

That’s fine in the executive suite. But when you venture outside this holy of holies or some equally corporatized environment (the annual meeting, the management retreat, the Wall Street quarterly call, one of those ticker-running-across-the-bottom-of-the-screen TV shows, etc.), you need to turn it off – or keep your mouth shut.

Especially in the social media world.

A few years ago, much was made of the handful of executives who were blogging. And a few did launch readable, worthwhile and even entertaining blogs (Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban, PR guru Richard Edelman, Pitney Bowes’ retired Chairman Mike Critelli, etc.). But many others produced blogs that seemed to be painfully ripped from the exec’s finger tips, written by someone the exec has never even spoken to, or excerpted from corporate memos.

Seth Godin considered this situation a few years ago in his Web-only book Who’s There? (http://tinyurl.com/ajffb) and offered some straightforward guidelines for execs who want to get  into the game. To write truly workable blogs (or Tweets, one might add today), Godin advises execs to embrace five key characteristics:

• Candor. They must display authentic truth at all times.
• Urgency. They must be fast-moving and quick to digest.
• Timeliness. They must be updated regularly and focused on current issues.
• Pithiness. They must be brief and to-the-point.
• Controversy. They must tackle tough matters head-on.

The problem? None of those characteristics fit with typical executive communications. By the time executive pronouncements emerge from an organization, they usually have been massaged, tweaked and “lawyered” so much that they’re long-winded, complicated, jargon-filled and late.

So is the lesson here that executives shouldn’t blog? No. The message is that some executive shouldn’t blog, but those who are willing to embrace those five characteristics should.

The best part of all this? If the executive does learn to embrace these characteristics, maybe he or she will also learn to apply them to all forms of communications. Now that would be a beautiful thing – and, eventually, an essential thing. As social media continues to grow, audiences of all types will learn to expect candor, urgency, timeliness, pithiness and controversy in all communications.

And anyone who clings to lingo and jargon of the past likely will find themselves talking only to themselves.