What Communicators can Learn from a Tough Cookie

Sitting at a traffic light the other day, we saw a city bus go past. At the wheel was a small, elderly-looking woman. In fact, she was likely not more than five feet tall and well over 60 years of age. My wife remarked that she must be a tough cookie.

My ever-literal son wanted to know what a tough cookie was. I knew what she meant, and my wife knew what she meant, but how do you define an idiom? Most of us figure out on their own what an expression like that means by considering the context. My son, however, is not into contextual reasoning. As smart as he is, he doesn't do idioms; his strengths lie elsewhere.

This episode was just the latest of many in our family, and it got my wife and me thinking about figures of speech, who uses them and who doesn't. My wife uses them a lot. I use them somewhat less, although more so when writing than speaking. My son uses them not at all and demands an explanation whenever he hears one.

But why does anybody use them? Could the aforementioned tough cookie not just as accurately be described in other terms? Of course she could. So there must be some other reason. In many cultures, particularly those with more of an oral tradition, conversation is a form of entertainment, and the ability to tell a good story or create a memorable turn of phrase is highly valued. This is particularly evident in agrarian societies, where people in work gangs perform strenuous, and often tedious, physical labor.

When I was in my late teens, I worked on a farm with my cousin in Quebec's Eastern Townships. One time we were out picking stone. This involves walking through a field alongside a slow-moving tractor and wagon, picking up rocks that had come to the surface during the winter and putting them on the wagon to be carted off. Some were very large and to this day I wonder how they could have come up so quickly. I remember coming across one particular rock that was too heavy for the three of us to lift together. The oldest of my co-workers, a man named Charlie, who was well into his 70's, said, “it would take 10 men and a boy to lift that one.” I didn't ask him the obvious question, which was why not 11 men? Or just 10? The answer is that "10 men and a boy” was more fun to say and more fun to hear. A statement like that got your attention. The older folks, in particular, can still tell a great story. This is a region that has never had cable TV and only got satellite service in the last 10 years, so conversation is very important to the people who live there.

What can we as communicators learn from people who have developed conversation into a form of folk art? One thing we know is that to these people, talking is fun. We also learn that there's no real benefit to being the “strong, silent” type. The ones who can make you laugh with a clever phrase or a good story get all the atention, while the quiet ones remain in the shadows.

Furthermore, we discover that it's not always about laughter. One of the most vivid descriptions I have ever heard came from an older working class gent I overheard while riding on a Toronto subway. In talking about a recently-departed friend, he said, “he was so crippled up from arthritis they had to bury him in a corkscrew coffin.” Not funny at all, but an evocative image to be sure.

The most important lesson, though, is that our communications have to be human; they have to read or sound like a real person would speak or write. And this is the most difficult lesson of all to embrace, especially for corporate communicators. It's so easy to get caught up in the jargon of your industry, or the language of subject matter experts and forget that the people we're trying to reach couldn't give a flying fig about what the scientists and the policy experts think is important.

What our audiences really want to know about an organization is this: Do we know what we're doing, is our product or service safe, and can they trust us? These are the questions we should be seeking to answer in all of our communications. And sometimes the best way to convey this message is through clever and not necessarily typical uses of language.

Reading Heinlein

I recently read The Puppet Masters by Robert A. Heinlein – in fact, it was the first thing by Heinlein that I've ever read in my life.

I have a complicated relationship with science fiction. I wouldn't count any science fiction writer among my top five favorite authors, but there are two of them in my top ten – Isaac Asimov and Kim Stanley Robinson. Some would argue whether Kim Stanley Robinson really is a sci-fi writer, but he's close enough that he isn't “not” one.

Even though I love Asimov's stuff, it's not so much because he was a great writer as because he was a great storyteller. He was a good enough writer, and smart enough to know what his readers would buy into and what they wouldn't. I'll take a good story over good writing any day, although the best fiction writers, obviously, do both well.

Kim Stanley Robinson's a pretty good storyteller too and, although he's not nearly as prolific as Asimov was (who is?), I think he's a much better writer.

My general beef with science fiction and fantasy is that so very often they present a scenario that I can't imagine could reasonably take place. I like Asimov because his stories, although generally set far in the future, are conceivable.

The Puppet Masters is conceivable too. It's hokey in some ways, having been written almost 60 years ago. His depictions of women are pretty outdated, even though he seems to have anticipated the sexual revolution on some level. By never anticipating the modern feminist movement as it eventually took shape, he seems to have gone straight to the so-called post-feminist woman in one of his protagonists. But the story itself reads like a detective thriller, and thrillers are always fun to read.

You won't find a whole lot of symbolism in this book, unless you equate the alien antagonists with Stalinism. Something slimy has come to Earth, apparently from Titan, and is taking over people's bodies and minds by attaching to their backs.

The main characters all work for a super-secret spy service that is charged with finding ways to save the world, so to speak, from its ameba-like invaders.

What I found interesting beyond the basic plot was the ideas about society that Heinlein presented way back in 1951 or so. As I mentioned, he had some ideas about the role of women in a future world that someone like Asimov wasn't ready to embrace at that time. His depictions of sexual relationships are a hybrid of 1950's idealized romance and late-70's uber-freedom. To call him a visionary would be giving him too much credit, but he certainly saw society moving in a specific direction and anticipated in some ways how that might play out.

After I started thinking about some of this I happened to look up Heinlein on Wikipedia and found that he was a bit of a folk hero to the 1960's counter-culture. Apparently Stranger in a Strange Land was particularly influential. I'll have to hunt down a copy and read it for myself.

Getting on Board

Like many large organizations, government bureaucracies can be slow to adopt new ideas. The Government of Canada is not immune to this phenomenon.

A couple of weeks ago I attended a panel discussion on social media in Government of Canada communications. The panel comprised a policy expert who is working on developing guidelines for official use of social media, a member of the Health Canada communications shop, which was a (relatively) early adopter of social media, a representative from the office of Canada's Privacy Commissioner, and two people who discussed the official languages implications of using social media in Government of Canada communications.

The language thing is an important consideration in our work, because Canada is officially bilingual, meaning that all government communications must occur simultaneously in both English and French. This makes real-time conversations on the Internet problematic, to say the least. We can get around it by responding to individual messages in the chosen language of the correspondent, but we have to Tweet in both languages, we have to respond to blog comments in both languages, and we have to make Youtube videos in both languages.

I would love to see how a country like Switzerland, which has four official languages, handles its official communications (or India, which has hundreds of languages and dialects). Doing everything in two languages is a challenge, but the contributions that both of Canada's founding cultures have made to this country outweigh the difficulties of communicating with all our citizens in their own language.

But despite the hurdles to doing social media well, there is broad recognition now that we have to do it. Our mandate as communicators is to reach Canadians in the media they're using to get their information. Twenty years ago TV spots, news releases, brochures, and newspaper ads were enough. Ten years ago adding a static web page was good enough. Now our web presence requires us to be interactive and responsive, because Canadians expect it of us. Canada has one of the highest rates of Internet use in the world. Its government has to keep pace or people will stop turning to us for information.

Fortunately, a few departments have caught onto the possibilities of social media and they are acting as a beacon for others. One of them is Health Canada. A previous Health Minister has for years been a strong advocate for Web 2.0 technology and was very supportive of efforts to improve the department's web presence. The Health Canada web specialist who addressed the panel advised those just getting into social media to follow the crawl-walk-run-fly model. Start by analyzing the public environment and seeing what others are saying about you. Next, start using social media channels to get out the messages we are already spreading by traditional channels. Thirdly, start soliciting feedback and holding two-way conversations with the public. The last stage (flying) involves using inbound marketing tactics such as putting your message out on public forums like message boards and other places where people gather to talk about your portfolio to offer advice, correct misinformation and generally add value to online conversations.

During the question and answer session, someone asked if there had been any major screw-ups committed by government employees using social media for official communications, and the answer was no. This was no surprise to me, since Government of Canada communications specialists are among the most dedicated and competent communicators you'll find anywhere.

All in all, the discussion was encouraging. There are a lot of people chomping at the bit to get behind social media communications, and the movers and shakers are starting to take notice. Ultimately, it will be a part of every communicator's job description and those who learn all they can about it now will have a definite advantage.

What do they take us (or our kids) for?

Are we as a society getting dumber? If not, why are so many of our books written as if we are?

We have a seventh grade Canadian history textbook at home from maybe about 15 years ago. It's written at a level that you would expect 12-year-olds to understand, is interesting, and has graphics and pictures but is not too heavy on the flash. Recently my wife saw a second edition of the same textbook in the library. Same title, same grade level – totally different book. It was about 30 percent thinner, with a lot less writing and a whole lot more pictures, many of a cartoonish nature.

Why? Are 12-year-olds losing their ability to concentrate on text? If that's the case, are we doing them any favors by steadily asking them to do less and less?

Will we start making football fields shorter next, or eliminating sharps and flats from music? No doubt that would have made music easier for me as a kid, but would it help promising musicians to reach their potential? What would the orchestras of the future sound like? And how would they play all the great music of the past – or the present, for that matter?

Obviously, we're not going to do these things – our society is hard-wired not to coddle athletes (at least when they're on the field), and the music industry will always have high expectations for those who seek to join its ranks.

So why don't we have the same attitude when it comes to reading?

Even many adults now are reading graphic novels. I don't get it, frankly. Not everybody loves reading, but when I was younger everybody knew how – even the guy I met on a school ski trip who proudly proclaimed he had never read a book that wasn't assigned to him knew HOW to read.

I don't understand why a reader needs to have page after page of what, to me, is essentially very grown-up cartoons in order to follow a story.

A hundred years ago, eight-year-olds were reading books that are now considered too challenging for 12- and 13-year-olds. They were reading the unabridged, unexpurgated stories of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. They were reading Dickens. In fact, when Dickens was writing, an important segment of his audience was people who had enough education to read but not much more. Now people don't read Dickens until university, if at all.

Personally, I don't think great writers like Dickens, Twain and Shakespeare are beyond the understanding of any teen who doesn't have a specific developmental delay. Shakespeare might require a little hand-holding due to the archaic language, but not a ton.

What they do, perhaps, require is the ability to concentrate. And maybe this is where we're failing our kids and ourselves. When I was growing up, TV commercials were 30 or 60 seconds. They were sometimes mini-dramas in their own right. Now they're often just 10 or 15 seconds and they hit you over the head with their message. Not that I'm advocating more or longer commercials, but something has definitely changed in our brains whereby many of us don't seem willing or able to concentrate on anything requiring a time or mental commitment.

When this happens, those who do have the ability to focus on a task for longer periods will have a definite edge in the workforce. Will you be one of them?

Out with the Old?

As I've mentioned before, English is a constantly-evolving language, and this is one of the things that keeps it vibrant and growing. By some estimates, there are upwards of 600,000 words in the English language.

That being said, you would be hard pressed to find someone familiar enough with even a 10th of these words to use them in everyday conversation. Some words are timeless, changing little in pronunciation or meaning over the centuries. For instance, right now I'm reading a book entitled, Mozart's Women: His Family, His Friends, His Music (I highly recommend it, by the way). Every single word in this title means exactly what it meant when it first entered the language.

Other words have been around for a long time, but their meanings have changed over the years, some more than once. For instance, according to the Arcade Dictionary of Word Origins, passion used to mean suffer, specifically the suffering of Christ on the cross. Sometime around the 16th century it came to mean strong emotion, often of a sexual nature. Terse used to mean smooth. Glamor was originally an alternative pronunciation of grammar. Later it came to mean enchantment, and only in the 19th century did it acquire its current meaning.

Then there are the words that still exist but that nobody uses, like “wherefore.” It's a good thing nobody uses it, because very few of us would use it properly. It means “why,” not “where.” When Juliet pleads, “wherefore art thou Romeo?,” what she means is, “why did I have to fall in love with a Montague?” We still use “typewriter,” but we're going to use it less and less as fewer and fewer of us remember what they were.

It's very important to make sure you and your audience are speaking the same language. A lot has been said and written about the younger members of the workforce – how they perceive work, how they want to interact with their managers, etc. People who work in employee communications need to take these preferences into account when communicating to younger workers. On the other hand, they can't ignore the needs of older workers either.

Perhaps for the first time we're seeing people acknowledging a variety of age demographics when communicating internally. In the past, the organization spoke with one voice in just a small number of official communications channels, such as newsletters, memos and (later) emails. Now the organizations with the most engaged and informed employees are using multiple channels to get their messaging out.

They're still sending all-staff emails, and there's no reason to stop this practice anytime in the near future, but forward-looking organizations are using other tools as well. They're holding video conferences, their leaders are blogging – and posting comments in real time, and managers are going into the field to speak with employees where they work. That's not exactly high-tech, but it's effective.

In the end, what matters is not what channels you use, whether you're on Twitter or have fully integrated Web 2.0 into your intranet. What matters is that you're considering all of your audiences and are using the most effective means available to engage them. And that means, in part, speaking to them in language that they understand and feel comfortable with.

What's in a Name?

My 10-year-old son is having an existential crisis of sorts.

He's trying to decide whether to start calling my wife and me “Mom and Dad,” or continue calling us “Mommy and Daddy.” For the past few years he's referred to us as “my mom and dad” when talking about us to others, but still uses “Mommy and Daddy” to our faces.

I told him to call us whatever he feels comfortable with, but to please not call me “Pop.” He doesn't see it that way. He thinks he needs to make a conscious effort to start using “Mom and Dad” because “Mommy and Daddy” sound childish; he doesn't want the kids at school to hear him say it because he's sure none of them say it anymore.

Using the right terminology, at the right time and for the right reasons, is one of the most important elements of effective writing.

For instance, on a corporate blog I read recently, one of the commenters was irritated about the use of “anagrams” in another person's comments. Fortunately, the CEO realized the commenter meant to say “acronyms” and responded appropriately. This is an unfortunate example of a malapropism, and many people are prone to such use of incorrect words. I once had a friend who, in describing how to get a client's attention, told me that he tried to establish a repertoire with the person first.

I always thought repertoire was like a bag of tricks, a list of songs or soliloquy or some other product one can pull out of a hat when the occasion arises. Not according to my old friend. I never had the heart to tell him I think he means “rapport.”

Unfortunately, there are other misuses of words that are less obvious but just as damaging to your credibility as a writer (or a speaker).

I often hear people saying “infer” when they really mean “imply,” for instance.

Although malapropisms do create the impression of ignorance, at least most of us know what the speaker is actually trying to say. Communication suffers more when someone uses a word that could be the right one, but isn't.

This is especially problematic when discussing topics of a policy or legal nature. As a corporate communicator I'm occasionally frustrated when people along the approval chain ask me to change something that has nothing to do with their area of expertise, like whether a speech should begin with “I'm happy to be here” as opposed to “It's my pleasure to be here.”

On the other hand, I have encountered situations where using alternate terminology to describe a policy decision means something entirely different from the idea we're trying to convey. I'm grateful to the numerous experts in my workplace who take the time to explain their rationale when they ask for changes of this sort. This knowledge only makes me better at my job. Fortunately, I've also developed pretty good instincts for determining when something could be improved by rewording it and when it needs to be left as it is.

The tendency to use “fancy” words can also lead to poor word choices, simply because many people don't have a strong grasp of the nuances of English. For instance, I was in a meeting once where somebody was describing what he called “substantive” change. The ranking executive in the room asked him whether he meant “substantive or substantial.” Now this individual had a disturbing habit of trying to show people up in meetings, but his point was a good one - there is a difference. The fact the person who who used the term wasn't actually sure whether he meant “substantive” or “substantial” hurt his credibility.

I have a few simple rules that I try to follow. One is that if I run a sentence or a word past someone I consider to be reasonably intelligent and that person doesn't know what I'm saying, then the fault is mine, not his; I'm the one who needs to find a better way to say it. Another rule is that I personally never use a word if I'm not sure I know what it means, except as a quote.

Good writing is not about impressing people with the size of your vocabulary, but about using the right words for the circumstances and your audience. If you use words incorrectly, your own credibility suffers. If you use words your audience doesn't understand, then it just goes to show that you haven't done your research. And if you hear someone else use an obvious malapropism, just let it go.

Agreeing to Disagree

Like many people, in light of the Arizona shooting tragedy I have suddenly become much more aware of the language that is used around political rhetoric. Even here in Canada, politicians have waged campaigns since the dawn of modern democracy. They take aim at policies, positions, ridings and even opponents. And here, too, high-ranking politicians sometimes receive threatening correspondence from unhappy citizens.

In my mind, it's a bit of a stretch to blame the tragedy on either left- or right-wing rhetoric, but the fact that people are now talking about inflammatory political language lends credence to the notion that we have a problem, regardless of its role in this particular incident.

Three things we do in the Westminster parliamentary model, however, set an example of decorum, even if our elected leaders don't always live up to it outside the House of Commons.

First of all, Cabinet Ministers are given the honorific, “honourable.” The Minister of Finance is “the Honourable Jim Flaherty.” The Prime Minister is “the Right Honourable Stephen Harper.” These titles remind our citizenry that while politics may be a game to some, it's also serious business.

Second of all, there are expressions that absolutely cannot be used inside the Commons or the Senate. “Liar” is one of them. The opposition can accuse a Minister of having her facts wrong, or even of having trouble separating fact from fiction. But call someone a liar and you have to either apologize for using “unparliamentary language” or be evicted from Parliament (by force if necessary) until you do apologize.

Third, Members of Parliament don't speak directly to their counterparts on the other side of the House. They address their questions and answers to the Speaker.

For instance, the opposition might ask, “Mr. Speaker, can the Minister of Foreign Affairs explain to the House why (insert issue here)?

The Minister might reply, “Mr. Speaker, the member opposite seems to expect the taxpayers to foot the bill for (insert response here).”

In this way, you never have politicians directly accusing each other of anything. It's all run through the filter of the Speaker.

I can't say it's a perfect system. Once the politicians leave the House the gloves come back off. And compared to how the British Parliament conducts itself, Canada's elected representatives seem like a roomful of schoolkids.

I'm sure the vast majority of Americans are aghast at the extreme language coming from both ends of the political spectrum. The move by one representative to have his colleagues sit together during the State of the Union address may never happen, but the fact that it can even be proposed is encouraging.

In the Westminster model, those representatives not part of the governing party are duty-bound to oppose the government. Hence, the term “Official Opposition” to describe the party with the second-largest number of seats in Parliament. There is very little deal-making going on, and none at all when the ruling party has more than 50 percent of the seats in the House.

Most of us have found a way to disagree and remain cordial, even friends. Most people, as well, would be amazed if they realized how much socializing goes on between politicians of different stripes when the microphones are turned off. It really is a game, just like hockey. When the final whistle blows the combatants meet at center ice and shake hands. Too bad some of their followers can't do the same.