THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE

              Raised eyebrows.

              The Trojan Horse.

              A wrinkled forehead.

              Japan attacks Pearl Harbor.

Today, our lives are spattered with surprise – whether we express it verbally, facially, through startled or synchronized actions.  Nothing says that better than dialing into the news or following a particular account through all its iterations.  [Think of the latest Netflix phenomenon, the Making a Murderer.]

On the other hand, our work lives, for many reasons, are fairly immune from surprises.  We’re informed about company happenings, exchange information with colleagues, and labor pretty hard to get our jobs done well.

Or are we protected?  In days of mergers and acquisitions, of stock markets reacting to every little up or downtick, and of corporate cost consciousness infiltrating many activities, surprise has got to be a staple of our lives – and managing it, commonplace. 

How to do that?  Obviously, reinforcing good words on how to deal with change is a given.  Many learning and development gurus usually recommend a basic course or book or module.  Or exploring on your own and with a team.

There’s also another path – one that can be embedded weekly.  Which is the telling of stories with a surprise element.   It can be communicated in a series of narratives or ongoing conversations.  Or simply a look at the business’ history to demonstrate how surprise is usually not, really truly, an out-of-the-blue startle.

Shock, after all, is not a strategy.

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The casual era of business may soon be gone.

[Except, of course, for Silicon Valley.]

Suit jackets are the new ‘hoodie.’  Remote workers are being asked to spend at least one or two days in the office.  Face to face conversations are gradually replacing texting … and smartphone emails.

One thing that isn’t changing (and one we believe should change):  Overly formal, non-conversational, stiff writing.

How to recognize it?  It won’t sound like a real person.  It quietly screams ‘I’m self-conscious about what I say.”  And it relies on our favorite consultant-ese to communicate.  [Let’s vote out phrases and words like ‘best practices,’ ‘leverage,’ even ‘iconic.’  See our previous writings on those subjects.]

Understand, please:  We’re not advocating the loose lips kind of communication, where texting reigns and periods are invisible.  Or the type that insists on using abbreviations and emoji for delicate topics.  Buttoning up way-too-informal dialogue is okay by us.

What we are promoting is communication that is clear and reflects how people talk, write, and interact.  A narrative that tells a story, in language accessible to everyone.  A document that sells, yet sticks to the facts.  Video that is simple, compelling, and causes us to do or believe something. 

Seriously.  Is that harder than we think?

BUSY. BUSIER. BUSIEST.

As kids, we used to do the one-ups:  “Yah, my mom’s smarter and prettier than yours.”  The retort:   “Well, my mom has a Ph.D. and is a university professor.”

Things haven’t changed much in all those years.

These days, it’s all about being busy, a status symbol if ever we nailed one.  “I’ve got to fly to Jakarta, deliver a presentation, then work with a client in London.”  Or:  “The CEO asked me to work with him on a series of U.S. and Latin America site visits as well as filming those conversations for significant investors, turning it into a roadshow.”

Hard to beat, eh?  Problem is, it’s contagious, darned inefficient, and a barrier to real communications and effectiveness.  Because the “gotta be busy” syndrome stems from times of economic uncertainty, bosses who value hours above real thinking, and/or a psychological need to be important.

Sure.  The kinds of businesses we practice – from communications and design to marketing and branding – are filled with last-minute deadlines and client demands.  So it’s natural to bristle and state that you manage your schedules well, thank you very much.

Let us just point out one study.  At the Pentagon.  Some years back, they discovered that working hard wasn’t netting them the desired results.  The generals then mandated alternative work schedules and flex work policies.  Guess what?   Work quality improved; sharper thinking ensued.

So as masters of the [communications] universe, look around your shop, your office, your team.  Measure quality and productivity, along with sick days and goals.  Then tell us if Uncle Sam knows best.

PICTURE PERFECT?

The power of visuals is certainly a philosophy we heartily endorse (it’s a common subject of this blog).  After all, statistics demonstrate that illustrations and design are much more likely than text alone to be remembered – and retained.  [So what if the ad industry was behind the research?] It’s clear, in our multi-channel intersected beings, that pictures enhance and expand our worlds, and help us make our messages even more meaningful.

So recent news about the popularity of graphic novels and other pictorial applications delighted – and surprised. 

In education, for instance, pictorial versions of classics and moderns – like Capote’s In True Blood – go hand in hand with the actual text to build comprehension, develop critical thinking skills, and engage unmotivated readers.  And it’s not just used in low-performing institutions; one high-achieving school  here in Illinois actively promotes the use of graphic novels … not only in literature, but also in math, science, biography, and other subjects.  [Of course, such apps follow some pretty rigorous validation before being incorporated in the curriculum.]  No wonder that sales of graphic books over the past decade have increased 40 percent.

On the other hand, comix as serious corporate fare encounter different fates.  Conglomerate Loews (a holding company with a diverse portfolio), for example, recently issued its 2012 annual  report … in the cartoon form of The Adventures of Lotta Value, Investment Hunter!  It’s a good try, in 13 pages, to convince today’s investors of the company’s value.

But, sad to say, it doesn’t work as well as it could.  Why?  Disregard the quality of the illustrations (which are good); instead, focus on the story.  The plot is contrived … and the language, occasionally in corporate speak.  The heroine just doesn’t elicit much empathy.  

Authenticity, in short.   Do we learn from our perusals?  Sorta.  Have we produced similar tactics?  Sure, with visuals and words that work hard for a purpose.  This time, though, the message clearly doesn’t paint a clear and compelling picture.