We’re All Smug B@stards Now

There’s an unwritten rule among people who write jokes. If I tell you an original joke, you are free to retell it. The first three times, it’s only polite to mention where you got it. But after that, drive it like you stole it.

Over at Marketing with Meaning, Bob Gilbreath is giving us the rundown on the sights, sounds and lessons of SXSWi10. As I didn’t get to make the trip this year, I’m grateful for the vicarious education.

In his most recent installment (at least as I write this) Bob shares some thoughts from Clay Shirky, author of Here Comes Everybody.

The central thesis of the lesson is this:

… all sharing is not created equal. While all forms of sharing can bring positive feelings, different types come at different costs.

Just go read it. I’ll wait.

…

It’s all true: We’re programmed to share. In addition to the cost of sharing there are the personal benefits of sharing that play an important role. Mostly those benefits are, well … social. There’s status in being the first to discover a new band, new restaurant, latest joke. Sharing is how we get credit for the discovery.

What’s new with SocMed technology is the ability to document your firstness (or at least early discovery) and track the conversation. That social status of being the bearer of useful (or at least interesting) information is not new.

Ever watch two guys give somebody directions at the same time?

Ever notice the expression on a friend’s face when he realizes you’ve heard the joke before?

Shareable information – a joke, an image, a new link – makes us feel connected. The same is true for having the beta version of the latest game or the scoop on a new product launch.

It makes us feel plugged in. Give your audience something they not only can share but gain status from sharing and you’ve made a friend. Make enough friends and you’ve got an army. Raise a large enough army and … well, y’know.

So the challenge is this: What do you have that the audience of your audience wants?



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When Nothing Becomes the Dominant Narrative

Extensive coverage of non-stories was a topic of discussion yesterday at my regular hangout, and one of the smartest guys I know reminded me of the pre-cyberchaser coverage of the Falklands Island War in the early 1980s.


For weeks, as the British fleet made its way toward its brief but telegenic encounter with Argentina, newspapers around the world frontpaged the presumed location of the armada in the Atlantic. There was no new story and no confirmation of anything. Most coverage centered on a Map of the Atlantic Ocean with a series of dots that crept closer to South America each day.

Every Bloody Day

Now that it’s over (for now) there will be plenty of post mortems on the Obama veep announcement. Over at Desirable Roasted Coffee, Allan Jenkins breaks down ABC’s breathless coverage of the build-up, asking a very important question about the qualifications for modern copyediting.

One of the concerns for us PR-types is whether allowing the actual announcement to play out into the weekend news cycle will prove to be a wise decision. But the announcement itself is the least important part of the narrative.

The risk, of course, was that some of the rumors and speculation would raise expectations among key constituencies. In the absence of verifiable information, the public never fails to create its own. That includes the 500 members of the public who make up the DC punditocracy. But for the past two weeks, speculation on the identity of the mystery running mate has been in the top of every national newscast, above the fold in every paper and right next to the cell-phone ad on every news Web site. Forget the text-messaging (clever, btw). The campaign already owned the week.

Sometimes nothin’ …

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A DNT Parable With a Punch Line -- Part Due

First, the lesson:

You … your brand, your company, your own self … have a preferred narrative. Marketers call this positioning. It’s what you wish and hope your audiences will think and believe about you. Usually we think of audiences as customers. But they also can be neighbors, legislators, bosses, spouses ... enough.

All the messaging, branding, advertising and – yes! – PR in the world will not override the experience people have with you every day. And if it’s not an everyday experience, then every encounter or Interface counts even more.





That experience forms a competing narrative. If you're not careful, it becomes the dominant narrative.




The parable:

A young woman joined a convent. The mother superior was very specific.

“If you join us,” she explained, “you will spend your life in prayer, song and manual labor. Other than prayer and song, you will be permitted to speak only two words each year. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said the young woman.




The novice went directly to the fields, where she toiled from dawn to dusk for a full a year. On the anniversary of her admittance, the mother superior invited her to the chapel.

“You have served our community well,” the older woman said. “As I explained, you may now speak. But you are limited to two words.”

The younger woman swallowed hard. “Cold room,” she said.

“You are absolutely correct,” mother superior replied. “We long have had trouble with the fuel supply. I am taking you from the fields and sending you to assist your sisters in chopping wood. Do you accept this assignment?”

The younger woman nodded her assent and went to the woods to chop wood.



After two years, again mother superior summoned the young sister to the chapel.


“You have served our community well,” the older woman said. “As I explained, you may now speak. But you are limited to two words.”

The younger woman swallowed hard. “Bad food,” she said.

“You have worked without fail and performed better than sisters with twice your experience. I am promoting you to the kitchen. Do you accept this assignment?”

The young woman nodded her assent and went off to the kitchen.

After three years of toiling in the fields, chopping wood and cooking for the other sisters, the mother superior again summoned the young sister to the chapel.

“You have served our community well,” the older woman said. “The food in our convent has never been so delicious. As I explained, you may now speak. But you are limited to two words.”

The young woman swallowed hard and spoke.

“I quit.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” mother superior said. “You’ve done nothing but bitch since you got here.”

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A DNT Parable – With a punch line

I spend a lot of time yammering on about what a Dominant Narrative is and how it comes to be. This is about what it is not:

It is not about you repeating your accomplishments, achievements, brand positioning, tagline &c. It is about what people already believe. What incidents, events, perceptions, experience and whatnot shape your audiences’ opinions about you and/or your brand. You can change those perceptions, but not with a new logo or slogan.

Old Joke A Parable:

An old man sits forlornly at the end of the bar. Finally, the bartender asks, “Why the sad face, old man?”

The old man fixes his teary gaze on the barkeep and tells his tale:

“Look out that window. Do you see that dam? I worked on that dam as a youth. I built it with my bare hands. Do they call me ‘Ivan the dam-builder’?

“No.”

“See beyond the dam. Do you see that bridge? It spans the gorge. I designed that bridge. Do they call me ‘Ivan the engineer’?

“No.”

“Look down the river. Do you see that skyscraper? I designed that skyscraper. Do they call me ‘Ivan the architect’?

“No.”

He continues:

“But you [take advantage of] one goat … ”

Image Cred: londuck at ManualFocus

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