|CHAPTER 7|

Stories: The 2.5 Step Method™

“Somebody gets into trouble, gets out of it again. People love that story. They never get sick of it.”

—KURT VONNEGUT, author of 14 novels¹

“Stories constitute the single most powerful weapon in a leader’s arsenal.”

—DR. HOWARD GARDNER, professor, Harvard University

Lose Your List, Tell a Story

I love lists as much as the next person. For example (and it’s a list):

Top 10 lists, such as the “Top 10 Most Dangerous Jobs.” The most dangerous job, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics: logging. (Good to know. Let’s say you’re working in an office, feeling time-pressured and stressed-out. Sure, you’ve got worries. But at least gigantic trees aren’t falling on your head.)

To Do lists: I use them daily, even weekends. Sometimes I put an item on the list that I have no likelihood, really, of ever doing. But writing it down makes me feel better.

Angie’s List: online service if you need an electrician, plumber, or logger. Finding an electrician is on my To Do list. I’m sure I’ll be doing that very soon.

And there are lists in this book, including “The 10 Laws of Humor” on page 66.

But lists have their limits. Main problem: you’ve got to see the list to remember it. If I put “olives” on my shopping list, and then lose the list, there go the olives.

And if you’re trying to influence or inspire others, showing them a list—for example, a bulleted list on a PowerPoint slide—is probably the worst way to do it.

Napoleon needed to inspire his soldiers to man an artillery battery under deadly fire. No one wanted to do it.

So Napoleon put up a large sign at the battery. He didn’t list the “Top 10 Reasons to Volunteer for a Suicide Mission.”

Instead, he wrote seven words: “The Battery of the Men without Fear.”²

Step One for Creating a Story: Open with a Problem

Imagine you’re speaking to a biz audience and want to get their attention with a quick story. Which opening line do you prefer?

1.“After a lot of unsuccessful interviews, I finally found work.”

2.“After 10 years in prison, I feared that I’d never find another job in organized crime.”

You may be thinking, “I dislike both. Too negative!” We’ll come back to that objection in a second.

I like #2 for one simple reason: mystery. We don’t know how this story turns out. Opening #1, by contrast, reveals everything.

Years ago, I went to a writing workshop led by the head writer of a well-known sitcom that I’d never heard of.

“My job,” the head writer said, “is ridiculously easy. Every week, the writers pitch ideas for future episodes. I’m the one who decides whether to develop an idea or kill it.

“I’ve only got one criterion,” she said. “Do I care what happens next? If I do, we develop the story; if not, we bury it.”

Let’s go back to the “negative” objection. Being negative, opening with a problem, is a plus. Problems hook an audience.

Later in the story, the problems need to be resolved. And if it’s a business audience, you also need to deliver a compelling point. But that’s later.

Think about it. Every story, and life too, is about problems and obstacles, and “what happens next.”

Going to see a movie? Suppose it’s a traditional romantic comedy, because you’re not in the mood for anything heavy.

Still, there’ll be plenty of problems.

The story will never be: Boy meets girl, they fall instantly in love, have a beautiful wedding, then pursue brilliant careers, raise gifted children, win the lottery, and live happily ever after.

No one’s making that movie. No one wants to see that movie. There’s no story.

Instead, you’ll see: Boy meets girl, they fall in love, then boy does something incredibly stupid. Girl says, “That’s it, we’re done.” Boy feels despondent, tries everything to win her back, finally does, and then does something even stupider . . .

For some reason, it’s always the boy who screws everything up.

But that’s another story.

p.s. I’m at the airport bookstore, flipping through books, reading first lines.

Best opening: “First, I’ll tell about the robbery our parents committed. Then about the murders, which happened later.”³

Problem, problem, problem.

Experiment with Different Openings

Here are seven different openings to a story, based on a single problem I experienced:

1.“Do you think he has a gun?” I asked my friend.

It was past midnight. We had driven to an isolated place where a big muscular guy was waiting for me. He wanted money.

“This guy doesn’t need a gun,” my friend said. “He could kill us with his bare hands.”

(You don’t need to open with the very first thing that happened. Here, we begin in the middle.)

2.(Same story, different opening.) I knew I was in trouble when my friend drove off. It was the middle of night, in the middle of nowhere.

“Come back,” I yelled. “I have no money.”

(Remember, this is just the opening. The next few lines would explain the context.)

3.“Every night, 20 new people hate my guts,” the big muscular guy said. “On a good night, 30 people.” Then he spit. “I could care less.”

(You can also start with a character.)

4.“A few hours ago,” the big muscular guy told me, “we watched you get out of your car, leave the parking lot, and walk down the street. That was your mistake. You should have never done that.”

(Once again, we’re starting in the middle.)

5.“It’s your own fault,” my mother said. “I would have never parked there.”

(It’s ok to embellish. My mother, for example, never said this. But she might have.)

6.When I returned to the parking lot after dinner, my car had vanished.

(This is the first thing that actually happened.)

7.“Apparently, you can’t read,” the big muscular guy said. “Otherwise you would have seen the sign in the parking lot: If you walk off the premises, your car will be towed.”

(Think about what you want to reveal in the opening, and what you want to leave out. I wouldn’t use this last opening—it reveals too much.)

p.s. The tow guy demanded cash ($112) for my car. My friend, who had driven off, came back and took me to an ATM.

Step Two: Close Your Story with a Business-Relevant Point

Midnight in Boston, I have a near-death experience.

Just back from a business trip, I’m getting my car from Logan airport. Unfortunately, I parked on the roof of the garage. It’s been snowing, so I need to do some scraping, and brushing, and muttering.

The roof is not good. It’s like parking your car on the top of your house.

When you exit the roof, you drive down a one-way spiral ramp— round and round you go!—like a very intense amusement ride.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car appears. It’s going the wrong way, toward me.

Let’s pause for a moment. Sooner or later, this story is going to need a point, especially for a business audience. And the longer the build-up, the stronger the point better be.

Back at Logan, the wrong-way car misses me by inches. We both keep driving into the night.

Ok, you’re thinking, so what?

“My point is X,” you say at the end of your story.

Here’s where you decide, similar to your life, what things mean. And things mean whatever you say they mean—at least in a story.

Take this story. What’s the X?

“People are idiots.”

No, no, no. That’s a terrible point, especially if you’re talking to a room full of people. And even if true, what’s your audience supposed to do?

X should be a call to action.

“When you exit Logan from the roof, be prepared for anything.”

Well, if someone’s unfamiliar with Boston, that X might be helpful. But it’s extremely literal. The story never leaves the garage.

Create a bigger meaning.

“Get feedback.”

For this X to work, ask your audience, metaphorically, “Ever go the wrong way?”

Now, you’re no longer talking about airport parking; you’re talking about work, and about life, and this is now a story about feedback.

“Maybe,” you say, “the people around you are honking their horns and cursing you out. But you’re oblivious. Get some feedback, for god’s sake, before it’s too late.”

“Stop blaming people. Find the root cause.”

Suppose the audience, like me, blames the other driver. Ok, throw in a twist: maybe that driver made a wrong turn because of a confusing sign. Maybe he’s not the problem at all.

Maybe there’s something terribly wrong with this entire garage.

Apart from the roof . . .

When speaking to a business audience, you need a compelling point. A good story has multiple points, which means you can refashion it for different audiences and different purposes.

But each time you tell it, stick to one point.

Step 2.5: Move from the First Line to the Last, Quickly

Sometimes you hear stories that go like this: “Last Thursday—no wait, I think it was Wednesday.

“Oh, I just remembered where I was Wednesday—Cincinnati, it was a last-minute business trip, which happens all the time at our company. Can’t anyone plan ahead?—so it definitely wasn’t Wednesday.

“Actually, I’m not sure this thing that I’m about to tell you really even happened. I think I might have dreamt it. Last Thursday . . .”

No one cares about Wednesday or Thursday. They care how long your story takes.

Edit.

Let’s Put This Together: Use My 2.5 Step Method™

A story is a mini-presentation; it’s got an opening (first line), middle, and end (last line).

1.(Opening) Create a first line that grabs attention and makes your audience wonder, What happened next?

2.(End) Create a last line that inspires business-relevant action.

3.(Middle) Connect the dots, first line to last, quickly. Often, that means cutting everything in the middle by ½.

Here’s an example:

“After only two days of marriage,” the man began. But before he could continue, I interrupted. (I was leading a workshop, When Leaders Speak, and we were practicing first and last lines.)

Your story, I said, can go in one of two directions:

1.The good place, for example, “After only two days of marriage, I was more in love than I ever dreamt possible.”

2.The other place.

I polled the audience of 100+ people for their preference. No one was especially interested in the good place.

“After only two days,” the man continued, “I no longer recognized my wife.”

Bingo! He had us. And yes, there was definitely a problem here, but, remember, that’s what a story is. A good story hooks us with a bad problem.

The positive part comes later with the resolution, what the storyteller learned through experience, and what we learn by listening.

In the marriage story, the middle (which we never heard) would explain why he no longer recognized his wife.

Did he have a change of heart? Or maybe he couldn’t recognize her, literally, due to sudden amnesia—perhaps caused by a blow to the head delivered by the wife who, he discovered after only two days, was occasionally homicidal.

(Probably better, in this story, to talk more about his flaws than his wife’s. The first will make him likable, the second won’t.)

How does his marriage story end? “Stick to the plan,” he told us.

“Stick to the plan” is a call to action, relevant to any business audience, regardless of marital status. He uses the example of marriage to make a point about work: commit.

And he’s a credible messenger; the story makes him credible. And it makes us, the audience, pay attention.

p.s. Wondering how his marriage turned out? So far, so good, he reports—now, 16 years later.

What about a “Funny” Story? Follow the 10 Laws of Humor

1.Never say, “I’ve got a funny story.” Business humor (most humor, really) should be unexpected. Plus, don’t overpromise.

Promise “funny,” and your audience may resist you. It’s as if they’re thinking, “Ok, funny guy, go ahead, make us laugh.”

Just tell your story.

2.Be concise. You already know the value of getting to the point. Double that for humor.

A joke has two parts: setup, punch line. Consider Henny Youngman’s, “Take my wife. Please.” The setup is three words, the punch line, one.

The longer your setup, the stronger your punch line needs to be. Stay short.

3.Pause. Your delivery and timing matter in any presentation.

If you say, “Take my wife (or my husband, or my roommate, or my cellmate). Please,” you’ve got to pause before the word please, or it doesn’t work.

Don’t rush. Take your time.

4.Don’t tell stale jokes. “Did you hear the one about the Democrat, the Republican, and the zookeeper . . . ?” Sounds formulaic. Your audience will groan.

Humor should be original. And, if you’re speaking to a business audience, it should have a business-relevant point.

5.Don’t target other groups or individuals. Unless you’re trying to be unlikable.

The next four are about specific techniques, with examples from my published work in newspapers and books.

6.Be self-deprecating. Suppose, for example, you’re talking about long-range career planning, 5–10 years out, and how it’s admirable but hard to do:

“I read that a former CEO of Coca-Cola set the goal of becoming CEO 10 years before it happened. According to Fortune, he even set a target date that turned out to be remarkably close.

“Stories like this always make me feel worse. I will probably never become the CEO of Coke. Even if I plan ahead and write it on my 10-year goal list: COKE!

“For one thing, I don’t have a 10-year goal list. This is something I should have thought about 10 years ago.”⁴

7.Exaggerate. Let’s say the subject is technology and how fast it changes:

“Our old computer sits alone in the basement now. It’s nearly five years old. That’s human years. A computer year is less than a minute, so by the time you get one home and out of the box, it’s more than 100 years old.

“That’s why the store won’t take it back, unless you also return the box and all the packing materials. Never underestimate the resale value of packing materials.”⁵

8.Think opposites. For example, consider worry. Many of us worry too much; we already know that. So take the opposite tack:

“All this ‘Don’t worry, be happy’ talk makes me nervous. It’s important to worry frequently and vigorously. Worry exercises the imagination . . . For me, worrying is the perfect hobby, if you want to relax.”⁶

9.Use the rule of three. In a list with three items, the first two establish a pattern, the third breaks the pattern and surprises.

“I have this recurrent dream where I’m an important leader. Sometimes I’m a Fortune 500 CEO, sometimes a big city mayor, sometimes a highly respected chimpanzee. And all the employees, citizens, and monkeys give me their labor, their votes, and their bananas.”⁷

10.Don’t try too hard to be funny. Your goal is to engage your audience. Humor is simply a tool, one of many.

So, at best, go for a smile. You’re probably not a comic. And you don’t want to become a joke.