REQUIEM FOR A [NEWS] LEADER?

Was Brian Williams’ demotion the death knell for anchorpeople?

Or does it symbolize (as we believe) how thin the claims of credibility and authenticity can be?

Think with us here.  Ever since Walter Cronkite earned the CBS anchorman sobriquet in the early 1950s, we used to regard our news readers as serious professionals, men (for the most part) who earned their authenticity in the trenches, reporting first-hand on serious and important stories.  That opinion continued to be fostered by the late Peter Jennings and the Huntley-Brinkley duet.  Fairly recently, though, the perception of anchor-folks waffled between entertainment and news; the buzz, in short, became more critical than the news.  And credibility zeroed out. 

In a sense, that TV contract of confidence between viewers and news readers is somewhat akin to the unspoken bond between employees and their corporate leaders.  Parallels abound:  Breaking news is a hard-won prize by skilled reporters.  Delivering information about workplace and corporate changes must also be a task assumed by the C-suite, provided straightforwardly yet with a sense of humane-ness.  Another:  We highly respect sector expertise, say, the political know-how of a David Todd or the late Tim Russert.  The same holds true for business chieftains who are not afraid to tell us the truth accurately, seriously, and relay what it means to us.

We could go on (and just might, later).  In your opinion, dear reader, which CEOs are today’s ‘most trusted (wo)men in America” – and why?

MARATHONING IS GOOD FOR YOU ...

We can’t wait to dig into the second season of “Orange is the New Black.”

And according to Netflix (a blame-worthy originator of the trend), 61 percent of its subscribers admit to similar yearnings for serial sessions.

Practicing binge-viewing is simple:  Download or stream TV seasons from your favorite purveyor, and watch for two to three hours.  And despite Newton Minow’s criticisms of the tube as a vast wasteland, a number of psychological professionals claim it’s no longer just a dreadful self-indulgence.

Think about their reasons:

• It’s a social experience (i.e., we usually watch with others)
• We watch one show, much like the way we’d read a top-flight novel … in sessions.
• The shows are actually good.  [Okay, okay:  We know folks who don’t like Breaking Bad.  But who could argue with House of Cards?  Or Mad Men?  Or … ?]
• It’s our selection, one not fueled by advertising or specific time slots.

In our heart of hearts, though, we wish one thing:  That we could transfer the experience of eyeballing the screen to eyeballing a book.  Our volunteering experiences with grade-schoolers have uncovered some incredulous-to-us issues with reading, even spelling out words.  It’s not just limited to kids either.  About half of US adults can’t peruse an eighth-grade level book.

Those stats impact everything we do.  The question then becomes, “how do we best entice employees and consumers and other constituencies to not only keep up with and understand our messages, but also actively enjoy the experiences?”  Ideas more than welcome at cbyd.co.

PSST, PASS IT ON: Whaddayou watching?

By the Keurig machines.  Over cubicles.  Via Facebook or texting.

Today, everyone wants to be first ‘in’ on the latest and hottest television show – whether viewercast on cable, Web, networks, YouTube or other talking animated media.  Now, PBS’ Downton Abbey is almost passé, with Monday Mornings and Girls vying for the lead [depending on what kind of viewer you are].  Or it could be seasonal sports events or reality show suspense, usually communicating the most recent iterations in the challenge or drama.

That yen to be vision-trendy started, critics and pundits insist, with HBO’s The Sopranos (though we contend it really caught on with Mad Men).  Or fueled by the amazing trajectory of YouTube, now calculating four billion hours of eyeballs a month. 

Whatever.  More important is the convenience of choosing to listen to talented artists and intriguing series at our convenience, wherever, whenever.  There, the thanks is due to all of the above:  Folks like Dustin Hoffman and Kevin Spacey and Maggie Smith vying for small screen opportunities.  The at-your-fingertips access of old-fashioned audiovisual media, on new-fashioned instruments, from smartphones and iPads/Nooks to, maybe, Google glasses in the near future.  And the prolixity of channels, with Netflix now challenging traditional broadcast and cable TV in the production of original content.

But the whispering about watching is what’s got us thinking.  It’s more than just a conversation insert, like “what did you do Saturday night?”  It’s grown to infuse and infect our activities – perhaps in generating content à la reality shows or creating a pastiche of the 1970s’ ad era in presentations.  It has, in short, got us talking and thinking, across generations, spanning cultures and attitudes.  It represents, in short, exactly the kind of ideas we might want to adopt for internal corporate dialogues, a way to help ensure our business messages go viral in the right ways.

“If you don’t stop watching the idiot box,” as teacher Mom and retailer Dad used to warn us, “your mind won’t develop.”

Not.