Practicing change

Sometimes change comes about through persistent lobbying and mediation, but often it happens because a couple of people with hides like armadillos, plenty of energy, and a good sense of timing, push the changes through.

Those you who have worked with me know that I thrive on change.

My mother once accused me of moving every few years because I enjoyed it. I do. I liked being a newspaper reporter because I frequently got to work on a different story every day.

I think change keeps you flexible, and quick, and alive.

But as much as I like change, I don’t like being in groups that are contemplating change. Too often, they remind me of people at the beach, who approach the water’s edge, stick in one toe, and repeat the process dozens of times before they finally lumber into the depths.

Five minutes later they are splashing around raving about how fantastic the water is.

Watching them drives me crazy.

I’ve been working recently with several groups grappling with change, and have these observations:

  • Most people resist change and want to protect the status quo.This is so fierce, it must be instinctive.
  • The same people who spend hours trying to block change and predicting its dire consequences are often perfectly happy with the state of things after the change they opposed has taken place.
  • Sometimes change comes about through persistent lobbying and mediation, but often it happens because a couple of people with hides like armadillos, plenty of energy, and a good sense of timing, push the changes through.
  • Sometimes change happens because the biggest opponent of change dies, or leaves town, and suddenly the culture of resistance he’d been nurturing just dries up and blows away.
  • The element people want to change (or to keep the same) is related to a lot of other elements that very few people think about, or perceive. Once the primary element changes, lots of other factors change. Whole new vistas open up — including some pretty scary ones.

The big problem with nonprofits’ websites

Many nonprofit websites are doomed to crumminess because, no matter how much time the organization spends moaning about it, the website remains at the absolute bottom of the organization’s priority list.

A sizeable chunk of my business is the development of content for websites. I write websites from scratch and I work on redesigns.

A few months ago I realized that, while all web design projects have their frustrations, there were some telling differences between the redesign projects for nonprofits and those for businesses. A few examples:

• Businesses typically want redesigns because an existing site doesn’t meet certain performance goals; nonprofits want redesigns because their sites are confusing, out of date, or unattractive.

• Business site redesigns are led by someone at the company’s director level; nonprofit site redesigns are usually led by committees made up of line staff from different departments.

• Business site redesigns are top priority, and take less than three months; nonprofit site redesigns often take more than a year.

• Business site redesigns usually start with the director presenting a list of goals and features, and asking the consultants to work from those; nonprofit redesigns began with the consultants being asked to explain what is wrong with the current site.

At this point, anyone who knows about organizational effectiveness should be seeing the red flags.

As a consultant and contractor, the difference that concerns me the most is client satisfaction when the redesign work is complete. The businesses are generally happy with their sites, which have new features that solve the old problems. The nonprofits, however, are often disappointed with their sites, which for some reason still look old-fashioned and still sound stilted and confused.

Seth Godin has some brilliant, and very troubling, observations on the topic of nonprofits today in his post “The problem with non.”

I read his post with great interest because I’ve come to the conclusion that there is something in the nature of nonprofits that leads them to have websites that appear flabby, undistinguished, and ineffective.

Let me be clear: This problem nonprofits have with their websites is not lack of money to spend on website design — although that’s the factor some of them chose to blame. Consider that some of the most attractive and effective websites around are small-business sites that were done for less than three thousand dollars — including full graphic design.

No, what I think hampers nonprofits’ websites is a lack of organizational commitment to communication. Many nonprofit websites are doomed to crumminess because, no matter how much time the organization spends moaning about it, the website remains at the absolute bottom of the organization’s priority list. That’s evident when you see that the person assigned to be in charge of the site is likely to be either someone at a level where she has very little organization-wide authority or someone who is so busy doing her “real job” that she has no time to devote to fripperies like managing the site.

Watch how this plays out. (Warning: It’s not pretty.)

Over at the business website, the director of communications or marketing is deluged with requests from all over the company (HR, sales, the board of directors) to put new material up on the website. Often it’s a request to feature something on the front page of the site. The director of communications weighs how much value each item has to the company. Then she firmly tells people whose requests don’t substantively help the company’s bottom line or public image that their stuff isn’t going to make it onto the website. Material that is in the company’s best interests gets written up in the correct style, edited, and posted on the site — but rarely on the carefully designed and carefully maintained front page.

At the nonprofit website, the staff member who “does” the website is also deluged with requests to put material up on the site. But in this case, the individual has no authority to say “no” to anything — a problem when most of the requests are coming from the managers of other departments. And, to be fair to the individual, most nonprofits have no easy way of quantifying the value to the organization of any particular piece of communication or information. After all, the agency isn’t booking appointments, or selling widgets, from the site.

As a result, the nonprofit’s homepage is soon cluttered information that has more meaning to internal stakeholders than to any web visitor. You’ll find a client interview, a new slogan, a video of a United Way commercial, blurry snapshots from the company picnic, and a teeny graphic that no one can tell is the cover of the annual report. And the rest of the site gets cluttered with pages and pages of dry material that quickly go out of date. Once something goes up on the site, it never comes down. Because nobody has any authority — or any time — to remove it.

Is the solution to hire another couple of freelancers to do yet another web redesign? I don’t think so. Read “The problem with non” first.

Indignation: when righteous is wrong

What if we consciously decide that righteous indignation (with all its ranting and raving and self-justification) is no longer an option for us?

I’m back to blogging after a wonderful vacation in Arizona. Amazing what standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon can do to restore perspective! I had dozens of ideas for blog posts while I was traveling, but, as is often the case, it was something I spotted online this morning that motivated me to write.

Seth Godin’s post Righteous indignation puts forth a challenge: What if we consciously decide that righteous indignation (with all its ranting and raving and self-justification) is no longer an option for us? That it will no longer be available in our “toolbox of responses”?

“Just think of how much more you’d get done and how much calmer everything would be,” Seth writes.

If I’d come across his post yesterday, my reaction might have been that, hey, I do a lot of humor writing and draping myself in a cloak of righteous indignation is a highly entertaining stance to take in a column. Give up that option? Unlikely.

But this morning I got a phone call from a friend (let’s call her “Sasha”) who had just been “fired” by a client. The client (we’ll call her “Ms. Snit”) was in the throes of righteous indignation about a research report from Sasha that revealed some unfavorable trends affecting Ms. Snit’s company.

Sasha had been subjected to a harangue in which she was called incompetent, unprofessional, and a liar. Sasha is a highly regarded researcher, with years of experience in her field. She said she’d stood her ground with the client, but, clearly, she was shaken. She said what troubled her wasn’t the unpleasantness of disappointing a client and losing business (we’ve all had that happen), but by the client’s tone.

After I got off the phone with Sasha, I went back and re-read Seth’s post. And then I looked up a couple of my humor columns to see if I really was making a habit of ranting and raving. What I noticed was this: In the vast majority of the pieces, I started out snarling and sniping but, by the end of the piece, ended up making fun of myself for doing so.

Because people who run around being righteously indignant often end up looking pretty damn silly.

When the saint comes marching in

Englishman offended by the municipal authorities’ decision to “dumb down” his street’s name (from “St. John’s Close” to “St. Johns Close”) he returned his local street signs to the proper singular possessive — using paint and a paint brush.

I’ve studied with two of the best news editors who ever lived (the late Tim Cohane and Irv Horowitz) and worked under some pretty damn good ones.

So my hat is off to Stefan Gatward, of Tunbridge Wells, England. According to this UPI report, Mr. Gatward was so offended by the municipal authorities’ decision to “dumb down” his street’s name (from “St. John’s Close” to “St. Johns Close”) that he returned his local street signs to the proper singular possessive using paint and a paint brush.

At you DT the latest wordage?

A shress can be worn with pants or, if you’re daring, bare legged.

Karin (no relation) offers some mots du jour, including the fashion term “shress.”

Off topic

How many of you clicked through when you saw the post title “Off topic”? The promise of something different, something unscheduled, intrigues.

I was at a literary conference this past weekend with many outstanding panels. In several of these panels, the moderator had to rein in a panelist, or members of the audience, who’d gone off topic. In some cases, it wasn’t a matter of someone wandering off topic — it was an energetic stampede into a whole other discussion.

The cry of “That’s a different panel” resulted in the “off” topic being posted on a white board. On the last day of the conference, conference participants chose one of those topics and that became the topic for the scheduled after-lunch panel.

Not surprisingly, the Different Panel was the best panel of the conference — a discussion of some major issues that had emerged, again and again, during earlier panels.

(Those of you who go to “un-conferences” at which most of the programming is done spontaneously can consider yourselves lucky. But keep in mind, un-conferences are still the exception to rule.)

One of the high points of the Different Panel was the panelist inversion. Mid-way through the panel, a member of the audience stood up and set forth a sweeping and powerful paradigm for understanding the topic. The room erupted with cheers. The moderator jumped to her feet yelling “Stop! Stop!” She then brought the speaker up to the stage, handed over moderator authority to her, dismissed the panel, and (in less than a minute) the outgoing and incoming moderators brought up a whole new panel chosen from people in the audience who had been involved in the burgeoning discussion.

The discussion proceeded with the new panelists, going from “very good” to “truly great.”

Obama reconnects speaking with information

I’m hoping that Obama is (in addition to cleaning up our international reputation and getting us humane, affordable healthcare) going to change the way we speak and talk and make clarity and substance the standard.

Thank you to Doug Plummer for pointing me (via Twitter) to James Fallows’ piece for the Atlantic on Barack Obama’s speeches.

Fallows points out that Obama’s speeches diverge dramatically from what we think of as contemporary rhetoric because, instead of revitalizing, reinforcing, and building on familiar concepts and beliefs, they present new concepts. They are political rhetoric outside of the box.

I’m hoping that Obama is (in addition to cleaning up our international reputation and getting us humane, affordable healthcare) going to change the way we speak and talk and make clarity and substance (rather than ranting and raving) the standard. While I’m waiting, I’m going to whip out my own editorial flyswatter and start whomping buzzwords.

Excuse me, I think I hear a “Social Media” fly in here somewhere.

They have my money, but not my trust

Consumer trust in financial institutions is at an all-time low. A mailing I got today from the company that handles one of my former employer’s retirement funds helps explain why.

Consumer trust in financial institutions is at an all-time low. A mailing I got today from the company that handles one of my former employer’s retirement funds helps explain why.

It begins: “Securities and Exchange Commission regulations require all securities firms, including [name of firm] to maintain certain information about their clients. We are writing to confirm that we have accurate information on file.”

They then proceed to ask you to confirm or correct some information. And, of course, some of it is the expected information — your name, your address, and your phone number. It makes sense they’d need this to get in touch with you about disbursements, fees, or change of investment options. And that they’d want this information if they are reporting gains or distributions to the IRS.

But then, the fun begins.

They want your occupation, your annual income, and your “net worth exclusive of primary residence.”

If the SEC requires these people to keep track of my net worth, I’ll eat the contents of my safe deposit box (at another institution).

So, here is a company I’m hoping and praying I can trust with my retirement funds in these iffy times, and they are trying to intimidate me by invoking the SEC while they phish for information that will allow their marketing department to pester me in a more targeted fashion.

The little “A Note on your Privacy” at the bottom of the form is a perfect coupe de crass.

Can we talk type size?

The Writer Way blog looks fine to me in the Safari 4 Beta browser, but I’m finding the type is tiny and hard to read in Firefox 3.0.7.

Obviously, I could control my own reading experience by adjusting browser preferences, but what I’m really concerned about is your experience.

Is this font (type size) too small for you? If so, please leave a comment to let me know, and tell me what browser you’re using. After collecting some data, I’ll take whatever steps are necessary to improve the reading experience.

Many thanks!

Er, do I know you?

The irony here is that adding a little bit of actual identifying information to their email wouldn’t have cost them a cent.

<rant mode on>

I received email today from a company whose software product I apparently downloaded at some unspecified time in the past. Here are the first four paragraphs of today’s email, with the product name changed to Prod and the Company acronym changed to COM (but typos included):

Subjectline: Prod & COM
Hi!
Lots is happening in Prod Land these days. We have 3 important things to tell you:
*Prod Version 2.0.2 Released:*
We’ve just released an update to Prod, version 2.0.2, which has lots of new translations and bug fixes. As always, download it here: http://getProd.com
Overall, the release of Prod 2 has received lots of great coverage and more users that ever. Take a look at some of the recent reviews: [URLhere]

I download three or four pieces of software a week (that would be more than 150 apps a year), a few of which I use regularly and the rest of which I soon forget. Might I want to take a look at this one again? Perhaps, but this email gives me no clue whatsoever. Is Prod for calendars? Audio? Backups? Font management? No idea.

What I do know is that as a piece of marketing communication, this email gets an “F.” Oh, wait, they don’t give those sorts of grades any more, do they? Well then, it gets a “B – – – – – – -”  (with the number of minuses being significant as placeholders for letters which could complete a appropriate word).

Would it have killed these people to have included in the subject line of the email or the first paragraph, a clue as to who they are and what their product does? Might they want to give me the teeniest little hint about why I might like to download the update they’re hyping?

From a marketing communications viewpoint, the irony here is that adding a little bit of actual identifying information to their email wouldn’t have cost them a cent. Going to their website (which I would never have done if I weren’t writing this blog post) I discovered that the product has an excellent tagline that explains exactly what it is, what it does, and why someone would want to acquire it.

This company is halfway there in terms of MarCom. Now all they have to do is get their tagline into their “marketing” email.

<rant mode off>