When I worked as an internal HR consultant for a multi-billion-dollar company, I uncovered a $10 million/year turnover problem in one of our largest departments. And I discovered the cause: poor management. How did I know? Data. I talked to the people who’d quit, and I used SAS (Statistical Analysis System) to track the reasons they gave me for quitting—which meant I had both the numbers and the stories.
Without going into detail, “Jon,” the senior vice president of the division that had been hemorrhaging employees quicker than we could replace them, needed to know the data I’d uncovered immediately. Otherwise, he was going to throw money into an employee retention program that would fail miserably. Although it was after normal business hours, Jon’s administrative assistant told me where he liked to have an after-work drink. So, I ambushed him there with my documentation.
Jon didn’t know me from Adam at this point. I was just a guy from the dreaded HR department, a division that garnered no respect in the organization.
I introduced myself, apologized for the interruption, and told him I had something I thought he’d want to see. Then I handed him the data. Just numbers, really. He hadn’t gotten to his position without being one of the smartest people I got to know. After looking at the data, he glanced up at me.
“So, we treat people like crap? That’s why they’re leaving?” he asked.
Um, well, yeah. I thought. But I wasn’t planning on leading with that.
Instead of answering directly, I combined a nod with a shrug. “That’s the gist, yes.”
“Sit down.” He motioned to the seat next to him. “What did they tell you?”
For the next hour, I told him specific stories from some hundreds of former employees I’d spoken with. Data got Jon’s attention; stories kept Jon’s attention.
Later, I would preach a simple leadership lesson to others: facts get forgotten, but stories get stuck.
Months later, Jon hired me to address the turnover problem, which I did. Then he hired me as the manager of employee engagement. He later promoted me to senior manager of communications, then director of change management and strategic communications, and eventually to his executive chief of staff.
Did I keep getting promoted because I was smarter than anyone else? Obviously.
No, that’s not why I enjoyed career success, as much as it would be nice for me to think so. What helped me along my career was that I not only knew the critical numbers and data executives—both of which were relied on to make decisions—but I also appreciated the power of story. Had I done quarterly roadshows to each of our 25-plus offices about our corporate mission and strategy—showing them the P&L, ROS, OCF, AR, etc.—employees would have been just as bored as you were reading those letters as I was writing them.
High-stakes communications include stories that support your key points and data.
If you’re writing a business or process (how-to) book, you’ll want to include steps your readers can follow and numbers or details to back them up. But for the love of everything that is holy, don’t spew data and facts only. Don’t just engage a reader’s brain; reach out to their emotions. Create story pictures for them.
Because facts get forgotten, but stories get stuck.
If you want help coming up with this balance, don’t hesitate to reach out for a free conversation.
Happy writing!
Scott
