Duane's Dartboard

Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on Jan. 21, 2013.

“I choose not to be a victim!” Those powerful words were shared with me last week by a friend who has had lots of bad things happen to her.

She is currently between jobs, which is why she came to my office to talk over coffee. Because I’ve known her for several years, I also know she is divorced, she’s been bullied at work and, since childhood, she has been preyed upon (and I use that term in its ugliest connotation).

Yet her bold statement—I choose not to be a victim!—got me to thinking.

Does someone really choose to be a victim? Is that a decision one actually makes? Or is a victim created as the result of something bad that happens? Or from the selfish actions of others? Read the rest of this entry »

Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on Dec. 12, 1012.

This summer while on vacation, my wife and I were driving towards the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I’d once hitchhiked along those same roads.

That realization opened a flood of long-forgotten hitchhiking memories.

I recalled the time I thumbed a series of rides to Ohio to surprise my girlfriend. Neither she nor her family were impressed that I’d traveled so far—all alone—using such an unpredictable form of transportation. (Sometimes I’m still amazed that she eventually agreed to marry me!)

Then there was the time my buddy Steve and I hitchhiked overnight to Florida. The most memorable part of that trip came after we unfolded our sleeping bags and tried to sleep in the tall grass along the shoulder of southbound Interstate 75. Believe me, it’s impossible to rest while 18-wheelers thunder by at 80 miles an hour only a few feet from your head. Read the rest of this entry »

Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on May 13, 2013.

Any success I might claim as a marketing and communications professional would necessarily include a lengthy and sincere list of acknowledgements. The English poet John Donne observed, “No man is an island.” In other words, we are all interdependent. Other people always contribute to our success.

In my work, I am most productive when I am surrounded by people who are:

1. Grateful. They are glad to be alive and they find things to be thankful for. With an abundance mindset, they focus on what they have rather than obsessing on their deficits.
2. Strategic. They think before they act. Before succumbing to the gravitational pull of tactics, they think things through in a purposeful way. They wrestle with questions that begin with the word why?
3. Competent. Once they see the big picture and understand why something is important, they know what to do and how to do it.
4. Curious. Curiosity never killed anyone. I love interacting with those who think with a beginner’s mind. They are the antithesis of so-called experts who already know the right (and only) way to do something. Read the rest of this entry »

Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on March 3, 2013.

The smartest, most creative people I know are those who can communicate a complex concept in simple, everyday terms. As Albert Einstein said, “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.”

Meandering, pompous words are often strung together to mask a person’s ignorance. How refreshing, though, when crisp words are used in succinct sentences to convey the depth of a person’s understanding!

You cannot have clarity without brevity. Practice subtraction. Next time you’re struggling to articulate a difficult message, try tweeting it. I love the discipline of Twitter that requires us to distill ideas into 140 characters or less.

Think about these examples where important ideas are best expressed in a simple way:

1. If you’re looking for a job, see if your mom understands what you’re saying in your resume and cover letter. If she doesn’t, odds are a prospective employer won’t either.
2. If you’re trying to revitalize your job description, explain to your child what you do for a living. In a simple conversation, can you describe how your job benefits society?
3. If you’re a graduate student, explain your research findings to your uncle at a family get-together. If he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, it’s likely others will not.
4. If you’re a company spokesperson, can you explain the benefits of a corporate policy to a complete stranger? If you can’t, then don’t try doing so in a TV sound bite.

Always remember that simple and simplistic are not synonyms. Simplistic ideas represent shallow thinking. Simple ideas, on the other hand, have had the dross burned off so that only the pure, essential elements remain.

Simple is best, don’t you think?

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Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on May 2, 2012.

Once upon a time, I lived in Portland, Oregon where I did public relations for a local hospital.

The medical center was well-respected and almost always received positive news coverage. One day, however, a headline writer for The Oregonian newspaper hurriedly summarized a positive story with a less-than-positive choice of words. The story described how the hospital offered a signing bonus to recruit nurses during a severe nursing shortage. Instead of describing the bonus as an recruitment incentive, however, the headline writer used the word “bribe.” To his credit, he put quotes around the word to indicate its use as a colloquialism.

The hospital’s president (my boss) thought the newspaper was implying that he engaged in unethical, under-the-table transactions. He was enraged and immediately ordered me to write a letter to the editor expressing our indignation.

Though I disagreed with the newspaper’s use of the pejorative word, I thought a phone call would suffice. I believed we would be overreacting to send an official letter of reprimand. My boss, however, was not dissuaded and he insisted that a letter be written.

I tried to explain that the person who wrote the headline was neither the reporter nor the editor, and any perceived slight in the headline did not erode the positive relationship between our organizations. Again, my boss didn’t want to hear it. He still wanted me to write a letter.

Unable to persuade him otherwise, I wrote the draft of a venomous, hard-hitting letter. I even made the project bigger-than-usual by routing the letter to the members of our leadership team. Everyone found cathartic relief by allowing their red pens to flow freely as they edited my words. Each person seemed determined to outdo his or her teammate.

When everyone had weighed in, I took their collective comments and blended them into a second draft. Their rewriting fun continued for another round when I asked them to edit the revised version of the letter.

Finally, everyone seemed happy. We had a punchy letter that would let those darned journalists know they couldn’t kick sand in our face.

Years afterward as I reminisce about that project, two thoughts stand out in my mind. First, I remember how I followed my boss’s instructions very carefully. He directed me to write a letter to the editor, which I did. Second, I wonder if anyone ever realized that I was never instructed to actually mail the letter, which I did not.

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Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on May 21, 2012.

My eighth grade English teacher taught me an important lesson that profoundly affects how I communicate today, decades later.

The class assignment was simple. We had to stand in front of the class and tell a story.

We could select any story, but we had to tell the tale within five minutes. That can be a frightening experience, especially for most self-conscious eight graders like me. Fortunately, we were given several days to practice our storytelling in private before that dreadful moment when we had to stand before our peers.

Sounds simple, right? Well, hold on! The teacher had a surprise that made the storytelling in front of our classmates the easiest part of the assignment.

After we had each delivered our presentations, the teacher announced that we would be telling our stories again. Actually, he told us we were scheduled to make our presentations two more times—once in front of a classroom of innocent second graders, and then to a roomful of intimidating 10th graders.

Quite frankly, I’ve forgotten most of the details of my story but two things I vividly remember. First, I can still see the second graders as they sat there with wide-eyed anticipation looking up to me, a mature eighth grader. Second, I recall how too many of the 10th graders rolled their eyes in boredom and looked down on me, a puny underclassman.

That was not a fun experience. In retrospect, though, most of my best learning has come during times I would not classify as “fun.” Ultimately, the assignment taught me to speak with confidence, to practice in private before speaking in public and to focus on core messages to fit the most important items into a specified time slot.

The most valuable lesson, though, was this:  Every story must be told differently to different audiences.

I’m grateful that my English teacher helped me to realize that one size never fits all.

The best communication happens when the message is tailored to the unique interests of a targeted audience. Otherwise, it will completely miss the mark.

In my early days as a professional communicator, a mentor told me, “If you aim your message at no one in particular, don’t be surprised if no one in particular responds.”

A communicator who thinks he or she can communicate to everyone in the same way is naive and feckless. A PR professional who disseminates information without tailoring the message to a specific audience is a fool.

Contrary to popular belief, there is no such thing as the “general public.”

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Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on Nov. 23, 2012.

I spent the first half of November in New York City helping people affected by Superstorm Sandy. I was proud to be part of the impressive disaster public affairs team of the American Red Cross.

Since I’ve returned home, many people have asked what I actually did. They are curious about the role of public affairs and how it fit into the overall disaster relief efforts.

To answer those questions most completely, I like to talk about what our entire team did. Working together, we created a synergy greater than any of us individually.

Here is what we did, and why public affairs was an essential part of the disaster relief efforts in New York and beyond:

Role of Disaster Public Affairs

1. We shared information. We told people where Red Cross services were available and how they could receive help. We knew that some were individuals asking, “Where is the Red Cross?” so our role was to share inform and help them access our services.
2. We told stories. We were surrounded by thousands of stories illustrating how the Red Cross fed the hungry, sheltered the newly-homeless and gave hope to those in such dire circumstances. People genuinely care about other people, and the community likes to hear stories about how their friends, family and neighbors are being helping. Volunteers and donors also need to be shown how their contributions of time and money yield an impressive “return on investment.” Read the rest of this entry »

Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on Oct. 3, 2012.

Those who know me best know I’m wired to begin any project by asking “Why?”

Before I launch a major initiative, I must first understand the objective. Why am I doing this? What is my mission?

Before I spend time and energy working on specific tasks, I must first understand why the project itself is important.  What are we trying to accomplish? What is our purpose?

Before I can effectively lead a communications team, I must first understand why my department exists. What is our mission? What purpose do we communicators serve? What is our raison d’être?

What is our mission?

Seriously, if we don’t have an answer, how we can’t expect others to value our work?

This summer I wrote a mission statement to serve as the cornerstone of our communications plan for the coming year. Here is the mission of the communications department of the Red Cross, Kansas City Region:

Mission of the Communications Department

We share information, tell stories and engage in conversations that inspire people to join the Red Cross in fulfilling its mission.

Mission of the American Red Cross

The American Red Cross prevents and alleviates human suffering in the face of emergencies by mobilizing the power of volunteers and the generosity of donors.

The mission of the Red Cross inspires me to be part of something bigger than myself.

The mission of my communications team focuses me on the important work we do as a Red Cross communicators. Our mission statement helps us to make good choices about how we should spend our time. It guides us as we invest the precious resources entrusted to the communications department.

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Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on June 20, 2011.

I spent two weeks in Joplin, Missouri immediately following the EF-5 tornado that destroyed much of that small town. I was there as a member of the disaster relief team of the American Red Cross.

In Joplin I talked with many survivors of the storm. I toured the indescribable destruction inside the tornado’s footprint. I even became acquainted with several of the people who lost their homes and were staying in the Red Cross shelter.

The more I got to know the people of Joplin, the more I was inspired by them. Although they seemingly had lost so much, they were grateful for what they still had. Although they greatly appreciated the support coming from every part of the nation, they felt no sense of entitlement. Although they faced an uncertain future, they were hopeful and believed that better days would come.

When I left Joplin, I knew I would never see most of the people again. Yet I knew that they would forever remain a part of me. Though we were together for only a brief, intense time, they left an indelible mark on me. The people of Joplin are optimistic, though very aware of their new reality. They are resourceful, resolute and strong.

In particular, three individuals shaped my memories of the disaster relief efforts in Joplin. Years from now, when I reflect on the time I spent there, I will always remember Marie, Nancy and Alana.

1. Marie was a Red Cross volunteer who lived in Joplin before the tornado struck. Even though she lost her apartment and possessions in the tornado, she returned as a Red Cross volunteer so she could help her friends and neighbors.
2. Nancy was a widow who lost her house in the storm. The strongest winds of the deadly tornado, however, could never extinguish the flickering flame of faith deep within her.
3. Alana had just graduated from college. Before she began her career as a high school English teacher she used some of her graduation money to travel half way across the country to help strangers in their time of need.

In the next three blog posts (click on the name of each person above) I will share more of the reasons why Marie, Nancy and Alana made such a lasting impression upon me and upon others who came into contact with these inspiring women.

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Classic Countdown — In the month leading up to the fourth anniversary of this blog’s launch, I am sharing my favorite posts. This was published on May 20, 2010.

Remember the classic tale of the emperor who had no clothes? Popularized in 1837 by Hans Christian Anderson, the story is summarized in Wikipedia like this:

An emperor who cared for nothing but his wardrobe hired two weavers who promised him the finest suit of clothes from a fabric invisible to anyone who was unfit for his position or “just hopelessly stupid.” The emperor could not see the cloth himself, but pretended that he could for fear of appearing stupid or unfit for his position. His ministers did the same. When the swindlers reported that the suit was finished, they dressed him in mime and the emperor then marched in procession before his subjects. A child in the crowd called out that the emperor was wearing nothing at all. The cry was taken up by others. The emperor cringed, suspecting the assertion was true, but held himself up proudly and continued the procession.

In this story, with whom can you identify? Where would you best fit into the plot?

Certainly, no one wants to be the self-centered authority figure oblivious to reality. Neither do we aspire to be “yes men” who refrain from speaking the truth for fear of looking stupid or being punished for political incorrectness. Of course, the dishonest weavers would never be our heroes.

But what about all the people who lined the parade route? They went along with the game until someone dared to speak the obvious truth.

Personally, I identify best with the innocent child who demonstrated transparency and authenticity. (He would have loved living in the 2.0 world of social media.)

The little boy was not concerned about what others thought; he just spoke the truth. He was not worried about being ostracized by others; he was just being himself. His intent was not to make stupid people look even more stupid; he was just being honest, never considering the potential consequences of his honesty.

In all facets of life, we encounter people who refuse to see themselves as everyone else does. Their game continues as long as we collectively enable their self-absorbed delusion.

Daily we interact people who don’t want to upset the status quo. Perhaps they are like the “emperor’s ministers” who have too much to lose if things change. Often we find ourselves along the parade route, surrounded by people watching the world go by and pretending that nothing is wrong. These individuals are tempted to think it’s just them. They are afraid to comment on something that no one else apparently observes. Or perhaps they just hope that by ignoring the situation it will go away.

Then there was the innocent boy who curiously watched as the emperor flaunted his “new clothes.” When you think about it, he could have responded in a variety of ways. He had to chose from the following three options:

1. Say nothing. After all, why upset the status quo? Why not just pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary?
2. Be amused. Why stick your neck out? Just admit to yourself that something is amiss and then quietly chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
3. Speak up. Why not say what needs to be said? What’s to be lost by being honest? Why varnish over the obvious reality?

I applaud the young lad for speaking up. As he grew older, though, I imagine he learned that society will embrace a child for his or her innocence and candor. That same society, though, will likely disdain those same traits in an adult.

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