Hey, where has everybody been?

Okay . . . sorry about not posting for awhile. As you know, we switched software, and to tell you the truth, I've been writing items every day for two weeks, thinking that all these wonderful gems were being posted to the blogosphere.

I've been writing groundbreaking, synergistic, world-class items on everything from "turning employees into brand amassadors" to "recruiting and enlisting the change agents in your organization."

The stuff I posted would probably have changed the industry . . . but I was confused by the new software, and every time I thought I was posting live to the blog, I was actually sending an e-mail to a company that sells Viagra.

But I have it figured out, now. Thanks for your patience.

I'll try to recreate all those wonderful items . . . but it may take some time. And, in the meantime, I have to get married.

Yes, there is someone out there who has agreed to marry me. Some of you may know her. Her name is Cindy, and her love of life puts mine to shame. She makes me look like a bedwetter.

Anyway, we're getting married this Saturday. I think. I mean, it's all planned and everything, but for the last week or so, I have caught her looking at me with the same look on her face that she has when confronted with suspicious sushi.

Luckily for me, Cindy always eats the sushi, so I think this thing is a go.

So if I'm distracted, please forgive me. But I do have one really cool thing to write about . . . . this wonderful speaking gig that I did last week in Austin, Texas. I'm going to go find my notes and write it up now, because there is some really cool stuff for communicators.

Thanks for your patience. I love everybody.

Steve

I forgot to mention that I am very sorry about the picture at the top of this new blog page.

You should NOT have to look at that every time you want to come here. I look like a cross between the bouncer from the Jerry Springer show, Dom Deluise, and Uncle Fester.

It was a Ragan decision to put that God Awful picture up there, and now we all have to live with this hideous monstrosity until I die in a fiery plane crash and they take the damn thing down.

Now this is cool. I'm behind the scenes right now at a real live podcast.

Shel Holtz came to my wedding on Saturday, and last night we were out drinking scotch, and I asked him if he wanted to go on an early-morning champagne boat ride up the Chicago River (there is nothing like driving a boat up the Chicago River, under all the great bridges, drinking champagne, and watching all the poor sons of bitches go to work).

"I can't," Shel said. "I have to do my podcast."

Let us not discuss the character flaws that force some people to choose work over early-morning champagne boat rides. The real point here is that Shel had a bit of a problem. The wireless in his hotel didn't work, and he was looking at the possibility of doing a podcast from a Starbucks.

Since Shel's hotel is just around the corner from my house, I invited him to do it here. So now it's 7:30 a.m., and Shel is setting up for the podcast. And I'm sitting next to him.

He's like Macgver. He just pulled out about seventeen gadgets, including a digital recorder, a fancy looking microphone, a sound board, and all kinds of other stuff.

I mean, this is pretty cool. I think I may try podcasting. But seeing as how it took me two weeks to figure out this very simple blog software, I'm a little nervous about taking the next step.

Here's my question: Does anyone out there listen to podcasts? Are they worth doing? I'd do one, but only if I thought for a second someone might listen.

In the meantime, I'm going to try to weasel my way onto Shel's podcast this morning. If you are a regular listener to Shel's show, listen for my voice in the background. I'm going to be shouting things like:

"Cindy, where'd you hide the God damned Bloody Mary mix? I'm on vacation, damn it!"

"You can't divorce me yet. We've only been married a day and a half."

Uh Oh . . . Shel is having problems with my wireless connection. He just told me he has to "do a hard wire directly into my ethernet box."

I'm scared. But I'll let you know how the podcast turns out.

Well, I made it back from Italy in one piece. Barely. Almost killed myself twice driving off a mountain, gained about 10 pounds, drank too much, had dinner in a castle . . . . it was the perfect trip.

Except for one little incident in the beginning, that really depressed me as far as employee communications is concerned.

See, much of what I do as a consultant and seminar leader is based on two principles I firmly believe in:

1. That communicators, if they try, can shape corporate cultures and change them, rather than just toil inside the constraints of them. That, if you try, you can do great things in your organization. I've seen this happen at too many places to ever NOT believe it.

2. That many employees are hungry for information about the organization, and smart enough to process it and use it to help the company.

Now, I'm not budging on my first principle. I've had too many people at my seminars tell me, "Oh, that's a great idea, but it would never fly at my company." Only to reach out to me three months later and tell me that they are already doing what we talked about . . . that all they had to do was show how it would benefit the company, and even the hardest-assed, most dinosaur-like executives said give it a shot.

But I'm worried about theory #2: That employees are hungry for information, and smart enough to absorb it and use it. Specifically, I'm worried about the second half: that employees are smart.

Here's the event that really troubled me:

I was flying from Chicago to Detroit to Frankfurt to Venice. I landed in Detroit, and went to the International Terminal, to check in. I showed the woman at the counter my ticket, and she said, and this is a direct quote:

"This flight takes you to Frankfurter, but you'll have to check in again for your boarding pass to Venus."

Now, listen. To be perfectly honest, I'm not 100 percent sure that she said "Frankfurter." It was my second flight of the day, so I was already well into my patented Xanax/Martini Method for Flying. But I am about 90 percent sure that she did, in fact, say "Frankfurter."

And I KNOW she said "Venus." Like the planet. There was absolutely no mistaking that.

Now, there are three ways to think about this:

1. That the woman is dumb enough to not know that Venus is a planet, not a city.

2. That the woman understands that Venus is a planet, but is dumb enough to think Lufthansa Airlines has flights that take people there.

3. That the woman understood that I was going to Italy, but twas dumb enough to think that "Venice" was pronounced "Venus."

Those are three distinct grades of stupidity, there. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, and say she was only Grade Three Stupid, and knows that you can't fly a commercial jet to another planet.

But if you saw the vacant stare in her eye that I saw, you just wouldn't be so sure.

And my question is, How Are You Supposed to Communicate With Someone That Stupid?

We talk about engaging employees, treating them like owners, sharing financial information with them, communicating global and industry-wide issues . . . . and this woman is too stupid to even get ON the short bus in school. They probably had to write her name and address on her hand until she was out of high school and became the problem of corporate America.

It was all very depressing . . . because you know in your heart of hearts that there are thousands of employees just like her, in every company in the world. And what are we supposed to do about that?

Luckily, Lufthansa airlines has the good taste to still offer free booze on overseas flights, so my depression didn't last long. But, back here in reality, I can't shake the image of this woman, our target audience for much of what we do, telling me that I would have to check in separately to go to Venus.

My God.

I few entries ago, I talked about sitting in on one of Shel Holtz's twice weekly podcasts, and did some thinking out loud about possibly doing one myself.

It generated some good comments about podcasting in general . . . and I think I'm going to do one.

But I could never do one like Shel's. I just don't have his zeal and his commitment. The man does an hour and a half show EVERY WEEK. I should say, he and his partner, Neville Hobson, do an hour and a half together every week. But still . . . that is a LOT of time and even more commitment.

It's not just the hour and a half that the show is live. It's the time you need to spend digging up topics, booking guests, fiddling with technology, outlining the show, adding the music, etc. It's got to add up to more than 10 hours a week for Shel and Neville.

And for this particular podcast that I sat in on, Shel was actually on vacation. First at my wedding with his wonderful wife Michele, and then he and Michele were going on to Boston and New York, to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary.

So think about that. The man in on vacation . . . and still commits to podcasting twice a week while he is gone. And furthermore, Shel wasn't even daunted when he couldn't get online at the hotel he was staying at.

He was going to do his podcast from Starbucks! Instead, he did it from my house, but there were all sorts of problems.

After setting up all his equipment in my living room, his computer didn't agree with my wireless, so he had to take everything down and move all the equipment into the bedroom to do a hard-wire connection into my ethernet box (I am making those terms up, of course; but it was something like that. All I know is, when my wireless stops working on ME, I call it a day and go to El Jardin's for margaritas. I never even knew that doing a hard wire connection into an ethernet box was an option . . .not that I'll ever exercise that option, anyway).

Finally, everything was ready to go, and the podcast went off without a hitch.

But that particular 'cast would never have happened if it was MY Podcast.

I can see four levels of commitment where I would have blown it off:

1. When packing my stuff, I would have looked at the big bag of shit I needed to drag with me to all of the cities---sound boards, microphones, my laptop, etc. . . . and I would have decided right then and there that the podcast needed to take a couple of weeks off.

2. If I did bring the bag, the MINUTE I checked into the hotel and figured out the wireless didn't work, my mind would have screamed with joy!!! No podcast!!! I don't have to spend the time it takes to research the stories, line up the guests, put together the program, set up the equipment, and do the cast. "It's not my fault!!!!" I would have told myself. "I can't get online!!!"

3. Let's say that I had HALF of Shel's commitment, and found a house where I could do it (the thought of doing one from a Starbucks wouldn't even enter my mind, so let's rule that out right now). THe minute I got to the house and the wireless didn't work, that would have been IT. I would have been so satisfied with myself for even trying, I would have started drinking early. And felt good about it. Not Shel.

4. After moving to the bedroom, there were still some problems. Enough to kill my desire to do one. Shel pushed through, and eventually did another one of his good podcasts with Neville.

That is true commitment that I simply don't have.

And remember: Shel isn't making any money off this. At least not yet, anyway. Not directly. He does it because he believes podcasting is a huge part of the future of communications; he does it because he feels that if he is going to preach to corporations that they need to podcast, that he needs to walk the walk himself; and he does it because he feels he has lots to say to the world about the importance of communications.

THAT is commitment.

Now . . . just because I don't have the commitment to do a twice-weekly podcast from the road even when I'm on vacation doesn't mean I can't do a podcast, right?

I'm thinking that if Ragan Communications handles the equipment side of it, that I could plan and do a monthly podcast from the Ragan "studio" (a conference room with equipment) that would be a lot of fun. We could have some guests, some good interplay, make fun of things, and generally have some fun. I can see a Car Talk-style format, but all about communications.

But once a month is enough, no? And if the equipment goes down, we quit. And if the wireless doesn't work, we quit. And if we're on vacation, we take a month off.

I can live with that.

Over the years, I’ve seen some really stupid questions in the “Roving Reporter” feature of employee newsletters. You know the drill: You line up six or seven employees, take a lousy, mug-shot photo, and then ask them a stupid question.

Some of the questions I’ve seen over the years:

* If you could be a candy bar, what kind of candy bar would you be?

Wouldn’t you like to see that person try to defend her job during the next round of layoffs? “But . . . but . . .sir, I was the one that came up with that candy bar question last month? Remember? Remember how cute it was when that engineer said he would be a Snickers bar cause he really satisfies? How can you let me go?”

* What can always be found in your refrigerator?

I’ve seen this one a million times over the years, for some reason. And nobody ever says anything interesting. Nobody ever says something like, “I like to keep my heroin stash in the fridge, because cold heroin gets gooier when you heat it up on the spoon, and I like how gooey heroin feels when I mainline it into my eyeball."

No, people say things like: “Ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce.” Whoooeeee!!

* What book is on your nightstand right now?

The funny thing about this is, everyone has a book! Everybody reads, according to the stories I’ve seen! I’m yet to come across one honest person who says:
“I don’t have a book on my nightstand. I watch porn to fall asleep.” Or,

“Book? A freakin' book? At night? You ever try to read a goddamned book after drinking a quart of Jim Beam? You ever heard the words, ‘Bed Spins,' mister?”

But I just may have come across the dumbest question of all time. It’s dumber than the ones above because not only is it stupid, but it’s dangerous.

The question is:

Who is your Greatest American Hero?

Can you see the problems here? What if some nitwit says:

“Rush Limbaugh is my Greatest American Hero. I’ve been a DittoHead since I was 16. I love Rush.”

And the next person says, “My Greatest American Hero is Al Franken. I love Al. He’s real funny.”

Once this thing goes public, what do you think is going to happen the next time the Dittohead runs into the Liberal? Fistfight, that’s what!!

It’s also dangerous because you run the risk of making your employees look really, really stupid. And sure enough, that’s what happens.

The piece starts out okay. The first guy says:
“Abraham Lincoln because he preserved the union.”

Nice. But then it starts to go downhill. The next woman says:
“Laura Bush, because she’s so down to earth yet so dignified and inspiring.”

Well, now. Laura Bush? Really? Yeah . . . I guess when you think about it, that sounds about right. Lincoln, Washington, FDR, Jefferson, Adams . . . and Laura Bush. I wouldn’t be surprised if I see Laura Bush’s face up on Mount Rushmore one day down the road. (I also wouldn’t be surprised if Halliburton got the contract to make it so.)

But you can forgive the woman who says Laura Bush. Sort of. Not really, but I'm trying to be generous. But there is no forgiving the next response, which is this, from a blonde woman:

“Mickey Mouse, because he epitomizes America and brings joy to the people around the world.”

Mickey Mouse!! I'll be damned! Her Greatest American Hero is Mickey Mouse!!

I know what you’re thinking: This was a Disney publication, and this woman was just sucking ass. But no!! It’s a utility company’s publication! She’s not sucking ass . . .she’s just an idiot!

I don’t know what’s worse, that she chooses Mickey Mouse to begin with . . . or that she thinks Mickey Mouse “brings joy to the people around the world.”

I just spent 12 days in Italy. No Mickey there. I’ve been in France and Spain . . . no Mickey. In fact, I think it’s a safe bet to say that if the French ever got ahold of little Mickey, they’d castrate the son of a bitch and hang his little mouseicles from the Eiffel Tower.

THAT is why you can’t ask stupid questions in Roving Reporter features. Because no matter how stupid the question, the employees will always outdo it in stupidity.