It was only a few seconds, but to Randy it seemed like it took an hour to reach the front of the community room. He was numbed by the audience’s animosity—many had come solely out of curiosity, but others seemed to harbor a personal vendetta. As he approached, he saw his team of experts—hired consultants—already in place flanking the podium.
The general manager of a medium-sized water utility, he wondered how it got to this point. Randy had always been well respected by his peers, but he feared he was about to become the utility board’s sacrificial lamb if this scenario didn’t play out well. The board members couldn’t ignore the impending theatrics of the meeting, but they were all cozied up with neighbors and friends in the back of the room. Easier to make an escape from that position, Randy mused, as he made his way to the podium.
And it was Randy’s neck on the line, stretched uncomfortably across the chopping block of public opinion.
The Community Meeting
Despite what faced him that evening, Randy remained dedicated to his job of more than two decades as a utility manager in the upper-middle-class bedroom community. Yet he felt a strange ambivalence; his reputation for dealing compassionately with homeowners was widely acknowledged, and he frankly had never expected to face such a day of judgment. He was confused by the community’s demand for a meeting, since it was clearly beyond his power to have prevented the storm that recently raged through the community and the widespread damage it had wrought.
Ironically, he was no more able to do that than he would be able to calm the storm of public opinion and controversy now raging around him.
In the wake of the storm, the utility board had been left with no other alternative but to increase rates. Their subsequent vote to do so would provide the funds necessary for critical repairs, replacement equipment, and ongoing maintenance on existing facilities—as well as fund the acquisition of new technologies that would more fully ensure the future safety of the public water system. The reaction by the community was both swift and predictable.
Notice of the rate increase was sent out with the last billing, and now Randy was the face of the board to the public, which now sat, en masse, as collective judge and jury in the community room before him, almost literally a court of public opinion.
Anxiously, about 200 of the utility’s customers watched Randy seat himself amid the panel of the utility consultants. Then, as if ignoring the others seated at the table, he stood up, grabbed the microphone from the podium, took a deep breath and gently smiled as if to say everything would be okay. There were no visible pitchforks and torches, but he did picture them in his mind, shrewdly hidden behind the cheap folding chairs. All eyes were on him. The agitation emanating from his customers was almost palpable as if they were ready to pounce.
Randy’s Green Mile
In the hours leading up to this climactic presentation, Randy was absolutely agonizing over what lay ahead. He wasn’t sure how to handle his upcoming meeting, so a week out, he met, along with his board, with the utility’s communication consultant, who counseled that he should avoid stating facts, both the obvious ones and the technical ones that would be difficult to explain in such a brief, and likely heated, forum and to stay on the offensive. Basically, he was to tell the underlying story about the need for the rates, rather than attempt to defend them with just the facts. And although the task of winning the day would fall upon his own knowledge, his own experiences, and, in the end, on his own humanity, it was important that he recognized people weren’t coming to this meeting to hear the facts. They also weren’t coming to hear from the utility’s hired experts. Rather it would fall upon him to persuade the audience into understanding that the proposed rate increase was in the interests of the entire community. He was to convey that from the homeowners to the business owners, they were all in it together; and therefore they all must be part of the solution.
He did hold firm on his intention to bringing in the utility’s lawyer, engineers, and accountant, as he feared he might need them to help bolster his case, for he certainly didn’t know and understand all the financial or technical facts. “Don’t worry about expertise,” the communication consultant countered. “Relate to these people. You don’t need to educate them with cold, hard facts; you need to emotionally engage them.” Initially, Randy tenaciously sought salvation in the technical details like a man overboard clinging to a life raft in a raging sea.
“But I can’t walk up there without these consultants,” he pleaded. “What if people have technical questions I can’t answer?”
The communication consultant responded, “Tell them who you are and why you care. Emotionally engage them. The rest will fall into place.”
Remarkably, when it came to showtime, Randy had found his game face and put it on. He understood that somehow, by the end of the evening, he needed to connect with the community emotionally, to help them understand not only his plight, but their own. You might say it was a matter of winning over hearts and minds through the art of persuasive storytelling.
No Hollywood-style bright lights shone dramatically on him, only a few dim bulbs mounted directly overhead. The community room had been set up classroom style, placing everyone on the same level. The panel of five experts appeared bored at best. The utility lawyer’s face remained expressionless in that characteristically unflappable manner that attorneys seem to be able to maintain even in the face of a potential lynch mob. The general audience was certainly demonstrative, even a little raucous, yet even they were similarly unreadable: Were some of them driven to come out in the night to attend this meeting by legitimate righteous anger and indignation over a rate increase they deemed ridiculous and unfair? Were others badgered to attend to show solidarity in opposition? And were still others lured by simple curiosity and the promise of an entertaining media circus in the community center? Probably all of the above!
Facing Randy in the center aisle, the community ringleader stalked with cunning, panther-like movements. Carmine sought to prove the rate increase was not only wrong, but that it would make Randy and the utility directors rich. Confident he and his followers could make Randy crumble that evening, Carmine seemed committed down into the very depths of his soul to ensure Randy’s ouster.
In the days prior to this confrontation, Carmine had been relentless in mustering his troops in preparation for the mighty coup he hoped would result. For Randy’s part, right up until the evening of the meeting, he had felt besieged, like Sisyphus in Greek mythology, pushing the boulder up a hill, only to have it tumble back down to be pushed upwards again…repeating the futile cycle for all eternity. In the preceding weeks, Carmine had dogged him incessantly, calling or emailing to question or complain about one thing or another, often to complain about the same issue all over again, as if trying to grind Randy to a pulp before feeding him to the lions at the upcoming board meeting.
And now, Randy stood to address those concerns, and any other community concerns that might arise unpredictably, as best he could. Random chatter ceased, and the room hushed as Randy quietly eyed the assembly. Even the ringleader seemed to drop his aggressive posture as Randy began to speak, though he probably was simply preparing to launch the offensive through which he expected to hang Randy with his own words.
But Randy’s words weren’t what anyone could have anticipated.
Why “Just the Facts” Can Fail
We’ll return to Randy shortly, but first, let’s pull back and consider the dynamic strategies at play in the context of such a potentially highly charged community meeting.
Have you ever given a presentation at a community meeting confidently knowing you were armed with all the facts and figures? Your talking points were spot on, and the facts clearly supported your side of the argument. You’d done your due diligence, spent hours precisely crafting the presentation, dotting every i and crossing every t. Your case supporting a new facility or some urgent modernization was unquestionably accurate and, of course, any costs involved were both legitimate and reasonable, which is to say, in keeping with industry standards and commensurate to the benefits to be obtained.
Yet somehow, the murmuring crowd stared back with dull-eyed, disconnected confusion—or worse, turned on you with vitriol, critically picking apart each of your carefully chosen supportive facts. At the end of the night, you left bewildered, stunned, perhaps angry and bitter about how unappreciative or (gulp) breathtakingly stupid people could be.
It is at times like this that you would do well to remember the words of Mark Twain when he said, “Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please.” The ugly truth of the matter is that the hardest of facts in any situation are subject to interpretation—or manipulation, if you will. Moreover, individual “hard-and-fast” facts simply do not exist in separate unassailable vacuums; rather, in every situation they are relational to one another to varying degrees. When one fact in a supportive argument is challenged, the entire argument may very likely be called into question. Finally, when the facts are highly technical or esoteric in nature, and thus difficult for the average person to fully understand, well, you can just imagine what a field day that provides for freewheeling distortion of the facts by all parties to a heated discussion.
Whether in our professional or our personal lives, these scenarios highlight the grim reality that “facts” are generally perceived as being true only when they confirm another’s opinion. If your cache of facts doesn’t mesh with the other person’s perspective, your facts are discounted as either misinterpreted or erroneous altogether. And when others retaliate with a conflicting version of reality, we tend to respond by discounting their so-called facts, volleying through the same futile cycle for a seeming eternity. It’s only human nature—we gravitate toward opinions that align with our preconceptions, blithely dismissing any conflicting evidence.
Thus, to the case in point, when a utility authority presents a mountain of cogent facts to justify a rate increase, members of the public who are disinclined to agree will simply discount your facts. Of course, it doesn’t help matters that literally no one wants to see tax or rate increases of any sort, even if the solid reasons such an increase is necessary are staring them in the face. Which is to say, one must recognize there is a strong emotional component involved here. And that is why, when a speaker is armed only with the facts, constituents not only ignore the facts facing them, but they don’t trust that speaker and, worse still, challenge the credibility of any viewpoints or data offered from that point forward. In short, “If I don’t agree with you, it’s because your facts are wrong.”
Step back and consider how this sort of pre-catastrophe messaging might sound when it reaches the ears of residents and commercial customers:
Dear Utility Customer:
- Something must be done about problem X.
- If we don’t do something, there’s a 50% chance disaster Y will occur.
- If Y occurs, our consultants say there’s a 40% chance people will be harmed.
- We’re 100% positive that utility rates must be increased by 20% to provide the funds needed for repairs/upgrades to resolve problem X.
- Our lawyer, accountants, engineers, and operators agree on the remedial plan we are putting in place.
- Here’s a graph showing the facts about this necessary rate increase and the equipment and actions it will pay for.
- The board of directors will review these facts and vote on this proposed rate hike at our next meeting.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Q. Smith,
General Manager
Odds are that this type of letter will boomerang and not gain Jonathan the support he’s looking for, but rather the next board meeting will include a room full of angry customers.
Quite the conundrum, no? But let’s turn to an unlikely resource for one potential solution to this dilemma—a resource that tells us that the art of storytelling just might prove to be an effective tool to add to your communication toolbox.
Not So Much “Failure to Communicate” as Failure to Emotionally Connect
What determines whether people listen or ignore? Whether they cooperate or resist? Surely the science of communications has something to say about how listeners process information.
Neurologists and other behavioral researchers have demonstrated that stories can change attitudes and influence behaviors (Zak 2014). Brain scans demonstrate that character-based stories filled with emotional impact provide listeners with insights into the key points a speaker is making. But engaging stories also enable listeners to identify and relate to the people and the events within the context of the story. That is, stories also have a potent capacity for engaging and bringing listeners into the action to the point that they become part of the story. Perhaps most importantly, listeners remember the message better and react more favorably than if they are given “just the [cold, hard] facts” (Sharot 2017).
The adept use of storytelling as a communication tool enables the presenter to sync with the listener, rather than starting an argument by confronting them with facts they neither understand nor care about. Think of powerful speakers whose words changed an industry or reshaped the way an entire society thinks. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech that empowered renewed resolve for equal rights. Steve Jobs’ passion-packed PowerPoint presentations, consisting of only a few words that were more future-vision than fact-based, that nevertheless put iPhones in pockets worldwide; not simply a dry rational accounting of iPhone features, Jobs’ evocative vision for the future garnered enormous appeal among consumers on an emotional level that drove sales much more than the gadget itself.
That’s because tucked away in the temporal lobes of our brains is an almond-shaped mass of gray matter called the amygdala—the site that processes emotional reaction to things like persuasion and influence as well as fear, pleasure, anger, joy, and apathy. And when the amygdala is engaged, as it is through storytelling or similar subjective stimuli, it sends an alert to the brain to react and imbeds a memory in our neurons.
Neuroscientist have scanned study participants’ brains during oral presentations and found that a “just the facts” presentation does little if anything to engage the amygdala, which fails to relate or “sync” with the presenter’s words. It turns out that happens when people are presented with just the facts; they will either agree or disagree with what’s being said. Think of it as a simple “and/or gate” in a computer program; it’s either one or the other. In other words, no effort is made by the listener to analyze or synthesize the relational aspects of “the facts.” What you might find odd—perhaps a better word is disturbing—is that when people are presented with facts that go against their beliefs, it only reinforces their stand. For example, if people come to your meeting opposed to what you are presenting, there are no facts that will change their minds. Thus, when you say you need to raise rates to a community that doesn’t agree with that, every fact you present as to why the rates should increase will only make their opinion stronger of why rates shouldn’t increase. What you present will in effect boomerang and get you the opposite reaction to what you are seeking to achieve.
So what is the answer?
To have any hope of success in such circumstances, what every presenter must profoundly understand is that you are not there to present facts. Rather, you are there to change attitudes, and you do that through storytelling that engages your listeners by doing the analyzing and synthesizing of information for them. In the simplest of terms, this means integrating your facts into a vibrant and visceral story platform.
In short, recognize that you are there to persuade. Behavioral psychologists generally define persuasion as an “activity in which the speaker and the listener are conjoined and in which the speaker consciously attempts to influence the behavior of the listener by transmitting visible and audible symbolic” relatable information (Scheidel 1967; emphasis added). More pointedly, persuasion is the intentional use of communication to elicit a desired response from listeners to their social environment. You are truly there to win hearts and minds, and you cannot do that simply by enumerating an endless litany of cold facts. And there is no better way to do this than by telling a compelling and evocative story that draws in and makes your audience active and engaged participants in that story.
In short, whether you’re an engineer, a general manager, or an elected official speaking before a group, never rely on presenting “just the facts,” unless those in the audience are in total agreement with you. (Of course, that sort of meeting is exceedingly rare in today’s world!) To influence listeners, presentations that bring us along, like telling a story, have proven superior to the commonplace PowerPoint presentation laden with bullet points, charts, and graphs. And any presenter who fails to recognize this simple truth is doomed to failure.
How to Present Using a Story
Craft the Beginning. Start with what people already know and agree with. You can tell you are describing life as the audience knows it when you see people nodding their heads in recognition of agreement. When done correctly, with sincerity, this puts you in sync with the audience and opens them up to hear your presentation. This establishes your connection with the audience and levels the playing field (Duarte 2012).
Introduce the Vision. Talk about what can be, not about the money needed. Highlight the benefits to the community—the whole community, homeowners and business proprietors alike—and let them envision having better things instead of having the perception of things being taken away from them through rate increases or taxes. The gap between the unsatisfactory—even untenable and problematic—status quo (as well as the imminent dangers it may present for life and property) versus your brighter and attainable vision for the future will grab people’s attention and unsettle them a bit…and that’s okay. Hang in there. It works. Parenthetically, I prefer to do these first two steps once only, but I know of many others who successfully bounce back and forth between step 1 and step 2 over and over, repeating them to great effect before moving to the climax.
Bring the Story Home. Leave your audience on a high note. Don’t rehash a laundry list of everything you need and everything you want them to do. Inspire them. Raise them high enough to inspire them to action and to forge bonds of trust to help this new partnership flourish. As the presenter in the line of fire, your approach from the podium must always ring clear and unequivocal: “We are all in this together. Let’s do the right thing for everybody in our community, and to make it a better, safer place to live and work.”
And Now, Back Into Randy’s Maelstrom
When we left Randy, he was standing up front in bull’s-eye fashion, ready to speak, ready to face down what he knew could become an ugly situation. But Randy wasn’t nervous. In fact, he remembers a remarkable calm settling over him, as if it came in on Sandburg’s little cat feet, infusing him with a surreal level of confidence.
He stated no facts except as they complemented his evolving story line.
But he did succeed in conjuring a unifying portrait of just how terrifying the storm was for everyone, explaining that the utility’s staff—members of the community themselves—were no exception. He talked about operators assigned to emergency 24-hour shifts, some working 48 hours straight, and about his experience of walking into homes to bring bottled water to families cut off from potable water. And he shared the untold story of a pair of rain-drenched operators helping an elderly gentleman evacuate his home. He made sure to include a story of private citizens pitching in, neighbors helping neighbors.
From there, he provided a little history of why the infrastructure wasn’t designed to withstand such storms, how years of positive development had pushed infrastructure to capacity. Randy talked about what was, what is, and what can be in the future with the public’s support; about the need for infrastructure improvement to keep pace so that this prosperous growth could continue for the benefit of all. He talked about it being a public water system: “It’s your system that promotes and protects your welfare.” He avoided talking about rate increases at all. Instead, he stuck to the vision of what the system has meant to the community and what it could and must be going forward. He wasn’t on the defensive at all as he shared stories of the individuals dedicated to maintaining the integrity of the facility and all of the people living and working in the community who benefitted from its proper and safe operation.
From Randy’s warehouse of empirical evidence, he opened only a few parcels, carefully choosing the most precious of that inventory. He knew the storm wasn’t his fault. His audience knew the storm wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault; yet everyone in that room, and virtually everyone in the community, had a shared, conjoined experience of its disastrous consequences. And so that most basic of facts never needed to be voiced, yet it was palpably “felt” throughout the room. They had gotten through the storm together, and they would repair, reinforce, and upgrade the infrastructure together in its aftermath.
Randy knew folks would be hard-pressed to squeeze precious dollars out of universally tight budgets to pay the rate hike. His audience most certainly was keenly aware as well. They very likely would not be in that room in the first place, were their situation otherwise. Yet, not a word of that was spoken, merely once again mutually understood.
Gradually, it dawned on us, the experts seated at his side, that our knowledge and expertise were extraneous, ill-fitting spare parts in a new reality that was unfolding. We likewise needn’t say a solitary word.
Randy had connected to his audience through stories of heroism in the face of destruction and despair, and the very human commonality of fears and uncertainty about the future. Where there was fear, he spoke of relief. Where there was anger, he inspired compassion. And where there had been conflict, he arrived at mutual understanding—all by merely engaging his audience and speaking to them as fellow travelers through life.
Randy wrapped up with insights about where the utility had been, what the future might look like, and how they hoped to close the gap between today’s stark realities and a brighter vision of tomorrow. Afterwards, Randy admitted he was “tense at first,” but when he started to tell the story from his point of view, people started listening. And once he realized they were on board, he stuck to his heartfelt story of gleaning hope and perseverance through the adversity during the storm. He talked about how the community rallied to help one another and how much his staff and he cared about every one of the utility’s customers.
“Overall it went very well,” he later reflected, except, he said quite pointedly, “when one of the engineering consultants insisted on taking one of the questions and provided his expert opinion full of facts to the audience.” He chuckled. One audience member asked how much the consultants were costing the utility. Others quickly chimed in with their own hard-edged opinions, “rebutting” the engineer’s facts. Randy had caught a glimpse of how the community meeting might have gone. To his credit, Randy had enough moxie to regain control of the discussion and thereby put the meeting back on track, as he calmed the audience and brought them back in sync with a more positive, forward-thinking vision of “where we as a community may go from here.”
Moving forward, Randy acknowledged that he’ll not be bringing consultants to any more community meetings, and he will rely on staff to help make such presentations, of which he hopes there will be few, if any, once the improvements to the system are made. Where necessary, his experience has taught him that offering a simple, “I don’t know the specific technical answer to that—but I promise I’ll get back to you; please provide me with your contact information,” is generally enough to set aside technical, fact-based discussions for another time.
And in the end, Randy realized his presentation wasn’t mere smoke and mirrors, flash and trash, or some magician’s sleight of hand. People in that room came to realize—through the retelling of their story—that they had remarkably overcome major adversity and hardship, and now it was time to move on, move forward, together and constructively as a community committed to future prosperity. According to Randy, even Carmine (his biggest adversary) recognized that Randy cared about them and the utility being able to meet the community’s needs.
The Takeaway
In the world of advertising, it’s long been known how powerful emotions are when it comes to purchasing decisions. But now, with the use of brain scans and other 21st century tools, neuroscientist have confirmed that attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors are more likely to change using congenial storytelling—and that presenting “just the facts” can actually boomerang. Watch any television commercial today for just about any product, and you’ll learn very little about what the product actually can do. But you’ll learn much, much more about how it “feels” using that product to do it.
Whether it is an engaging speech, a presentation to win business, or being on the defensive at a community meeting, syncing with the audience emotionally through the art of persuasive storytelling can be a powerful tool—and an equally powerful peacemaker—in the hands of those thrust into “spotlight” leadership roles. After all, every unruly mob is nothing more than a collection of emotionally charged individuals, and all the facts in the world will not calm them down. The greatest skill for any communicator is the ability to emotionally connect with the mob, starting the presentation, ideally, at a point where everyone may be made to feel that they, too, are a part of the story. That is the critical point where you will be most able to sync with your audience, to bring them in to your way of thinking, and to start to engage them as important players in the forward-going solutions you propose.
To sum up: Let your presentations start with the status quo (what is), and then proceed methodically and patiently to influence the future by revealing your vision. Look for ways to overcome adversity (and rebuttal) by uncovering small, previously unshared stories that look hopefully forward, and not angrily backward. Whether it is an engaging speech, a presentation to win business, or finding yourself on the side of the defense at a community meeting, it is syncing with the audience using real stories that can make all the difference in the outcome.
If you’re not integrating emotions in with your facts, people cannot relate on a personal level, and that in turn means they very likely aren’t really hearing the importance of what you have to say. In this way, persuasive storytelling that minimally integrates only the simplest and most fundamentally obvious facts while palpably situating the audience within the story is certainly the strongest tool in any utility manager’s communication toolbox.
Note: Randy, the general manager of a utility, is a client of Hughes & Stuart Communication. This is a fictitious name but a true story.
References
Duarte, Nancy. “Structure Your Presentation Like a Story.” Harvard Business Review, October 31, 2012. www.hbr.org/2012/10/structure-your-presentation-li.
Scheidel, T.M. Persuasive Speaking. Glenview, IL: Scott Foresman, 1967.
Sharot, Tali. The Influential Mind: What the Brain Reveals About Our Power to Change Others. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2017.
Zak, Paul J. “Why Your Brain Loves Good Story Telling.” Harvard Business Review, October 28, 2014. www.hbr.org/2014/10/why-your-brain-loves-good-storytelling.
