Sticky Communication

Stories changed my life. Here’s what happened – and some lessons for anyone who wants to influence people through storytelling.

More than 20 years ago, I hit bottom.

Although I had stopped smoking pot from morning till night, I still indulged  when I had a rock concert, that kind of party, work stress, PMS, a family event, a dentist appointment or a hang nail.  

It had been years, not counting a few stolen nights, since I’d ingested any of the evil drugs that could get me hooked.

So, I was doing OK, right?  Wrong.

You see, the less I drugged, the more I drank. I drank before I went out and when I got home, so my drinking buddies didn’t see the oceans of alcohol that could be absorbed by my 100 pounds. When my partner travelled on business, I would lap up the entire liquor cabinet all by myself.

I’m an educated woman, so I read lots of information about how to control my drinking. I tried identifying the triggers and following plans. But I always ended up back at the same place—or worse.

I called a treatment center, but I’d have to wait several weeks before they could squeeze me in. While I waited, I was not supposed to drink or even take the tranquilizers that doctors threw at hyper women like me.

I was terrified. I stayed off the balcony and away from busy streets. Something bad was going to happen, I just knew.

So I called my dad, who had been sober for years thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous. I had seen him not only stop the binges but also emerge from his introvert’s cocoon and buy hipper suits. I decided to give it a try.

What struck me, and the millions of other people who have recovered through AA and other 12-step programs, were the stories. At every open meeting, a fellow alcoholic spent half an hour telling his story: what it was like, what happened and what it’s like today.

There’s more than stories to AA, but I don’t want to go into that here. I simply want to point out that these stories work because their heroes share feelings and fears their audience can identify with. These stories are so powerful that they’ve saved millions, probably billions, of people who healthcare professionals are unable to touch.

I hope the moral of my story encourages you to tell stories through authentic, complex characters who resonate and inspire others. If stories can save supposedly hopeless cases, just think of what they can do for your business. The catch is: these stories can get messy.

At my early AA meetings, the speakers were mostly people who had sunk lower than me. Because of my father’s example and other good fortune, I had arrived sooner than many. I had not been to jail. I had not lain down in front of a streetcar. I had not sold my body.

Yet, through their stories, I could identify with the utter inability to stop, the inevitably of repeat performances, the resentments, the low self-esteem, the shame and so much more.

When I had trouble getting my head around the philosophy and steps in the AA book, I was told to skip to the many stories at the end. Wow. What a revelation. People just like me.

I cancelled the treatment centre and stuck around. Today I’m still listening to those stories, though not nearly as often.

I’ve heard some of the most amazing speakers at conferences. My favourites are usually from the southern U.S. or Ireland, cultures where storytelling is big.  Hair-rising escapades, side-splitting laughs and tears that strike from nowhere.

But, as with the nervous guy behind the mic at my home group, the best parts are always, always the ones audience members can identify with. You can tell by all the heads nodding in the hotel ballroom or church basement.

I don’t mean “She’s just like me, she likes to shop” kind of identifying, but the heavy shit, when the speaker turns over her rock to reveal the dirt and bugs  underneath, the same mess found under the listeners’ rocks.

So when you’re producing a business story, remember that your stories have to be about people with feelings and fears your audience can relate to.

For example, don’t ask the handsome hot shot to tell the story of your new customer focus. Go for the service rep who was afraid of losing his job if he took more time on calls, which would destroy his ability to feed his children and his pride. Then let him talk about how the new focus makes him feel fulfilled from actually solving customers’ problems. Ask him about his son’s hockey lessons or the new wheels the customer satisfaction incentive has allowed him to afford.

Of course, it’s difficult for many people to admit they worry about their jobs or bills and don’t always give the customer enough time, just as it’sdaring for me to go public about being an alcoholic.

Despite my many years of sobriety, I know some people will judge me harshly. But others, especially those who know me only by reading this blog, will feel closer. Our connection will tighten.

Even though you are probably not an alcoholic or addict, you have probably faced a personal crisis or two, maybe more. Just like me.

I’m not suggesting your stories must expose dark secrets. Let me simply point out that when people tell their story, the deeper they dive, the more likely are the people you most want to influence going to think: “He’s just like me. He did it. I can too.”

Stories with glossy heroes, as we see so often on movies and TV, may entertain, but they don’t inspire people to change. But when you want your employees to get behind a new strategy or your customers to switch from long-time brands, that’s just what you have to do.

Some people won’t feel comfortable sharing at this level and they should be respected. But, in these days of reality TV and your lives revealed on Facebook, you can find many people who want to tell their story.

They are eager to tell you how a new product or concept or technology eliminated some gut-wrenching fear and created a blissful ending. The people you want to sell your idea or product to will lap it up. 

Your stories may even change their lives. Just like stories changed mine.

1. Are you at peace with your public parts? « Sticky Communication says:

   December 2, 2011 at 3:48 pm

   [...] the conversation back to themselves. So I decided it was safe to go further, with a post about how stories change lives, as I’d learned listening to thousands at 12-step [...]
2. Sue Horner says:

   December 6, 2011 at 10:17 pm

   Barb, you are such a straight shooter. Bravo.