Brace yourself: This may be the most important blog item I’ve ever written.
I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking: Steve, this blog has changed not only the entire industry of corporate communications, but in some small way the entire world, too. How can you top that?
You’re thinking: How can he possibly surpass the fiercely intellectual work that he’s already done? How can he possibly write something more significant than the item he wrote about the time he showed up hung over at a Catholic funeral, and accidentally sat his fat ass directly in the Holy Water tub, mangling the tub itself and forever soiling the Holy Spirit for Catholics everywhere?
Or maybe you’re thinking: How could he possibly write something more momentous and inspiring than the item he wrote about developing a near-homosexual crush on an IT person? What could be more weighty than his groundbreaking treatise on the importance of naps?
I realize the body of work on this blog will be studied by academics for years . . . but still, this may be the most important item I’ve ever written. Why? Because I’ve had a revelation that could change the way companies communicate bad news to their employees.
I had this revelation while undergoing a CAT scan. More on that later.
As anyone who works in employee communications knows, most organizations suck at communicating bad news to their employees.
Most companies, when faced with imminent bad news, take what I call the “Colonel Nathan Jessup Approach.”
You know Nathan Jessup. He’s the hard-ass Marine played by Jack Nicholson in “A Few Good Men.” He’s the one who screamed at that sissy little bedwetter Tom Cruise: “You can’t handle the truth!”
Most companies, when faced with bad news, play Nathan Jessup and treat their employees as wimpy little Tom Cruises. They think employees are scared little lambs who can’t handle the bad news.
So they sugarcoat things, they offer platitudes instead of hard truths, and rarely come out and just tell employees that things are about to get very, very bad.
So employees have all these false expectations. Then, of course, when the bad news hits, it’s worse than everyone thinks it’s going to be, because nobody—not their managers, not the company leadership, nobody—has been straight with them.
Here is my revelation: What if we flipped that? What if instead of sugarcoating things, we set the expectation that things were going to get really, really ugly?
What if we said that there were going to be tons of layoffs, slashed benefits, profit-sharing reductions, no Christmas bonuses, random castrations, and maybe even mandatory human sacrifices.
Or worse: What if we told the entire workforce that from now on, everyone would be reporting to IT? Or worse yet: Accounting.
But then what if—before there was a mass exodus out the door—we revealed the real bad news . . . and it wasn’t nearly as bad as what we had originally communicated?
In fact, what if this new bad news was almost good news, when compared to the original scenario that we had just rolled out a week or two earlier? Wouldn’t it be human nature to be so relieved that the news wasn’t as bad as originally predicted that morale might actually go up, despite the bad news?
I bet it would.
The reason I know this goes back to the CAT scan I just had. But first you need to know the back story. Literally.
I have a bad back. When you teach seminars and are on your feet for eight hours a day for days at a time, it’s easy to develop back pain. When you teach seminars and are on your feet for eight hours a day for days at a time, and you are fat, it’s almost guaranteed that you will have back pain.
My back pain comes and goes, and it’s never so bad that I can’t function. But last week, it got really bad. I think it’s because I’ve been traveling a lot lately, and teaching a lot.
It got so bad that last week I could barely drag myself to El Jardin’s for my regular Friday margarita lunch. That is bad.
And then something weird happened. The pain seemed to reach around from my back, and into my stomach. That had never happened. Now I had abdominal pain, and back pain.
And that was particularly scary for me, because my cousin Tommy went to the doctor with abdominal pain around this time last year, was diagnosed with cancer, and passed away this past summer. Tommy and I looked a lot alike . . . so I was convinced that I had the same genetic makeup that he had.
I was scared. Scared enough to go to the emergency room by myself, even though I’m petrified of doctors. Scared enough to get a CAT scan and full blood work. Scared enough to make about one zillion promises to God or anyone else who would listen that if I didn’t have a life-threatening disease, I was going to get and stay healthy.
Those hours in the ER, waiting for the results of the CAT scan, were some of the longest of my life. I must have replayed the phrase, “We found a mass in your stomach,” in my head at least 2,000 times.
I was convinced that my ticket was punched. I was already figuring out ways of making money while I was in whatever treatment I would have to take for whatever horrible disease I had.
I was writing the script in my head for the video message I would shoot for my son Zach, that he would read when he was 18, and that would be filled with all the life advice I never had a chance to give him.
I was mentally composing the message I would want someone to would read at my memorial service. I was wondering if anyone would bother having a memorial service.
I was saying things to myself like: “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. When it gets to be so bad that I can’t function by myself, I’m going to get on my boat and drive it out into the middle of Lake Michigan, and blow my head off, Hemmingway-style."
And then the doctor came in. “The CAT scan didn’t show anything,” he said.
Then, after he disentangled himself from my bear hug (note to self: Asian doctors don't appear to be big on bear hugs), he continued: “The abdominal pain is probably just an extension of the back pain. I’m going to give you a prescription for Vicodin and a muscle relaxer. Try to take it easy.”
I was going to live! I was going to live with crippling back pain, but I was going to live! Medical science couldn’t do anything about the pain in my back and stomach . . . but I didn’t care!
I had staggered into the hospital as miserable as I’ve ever been, but I floated out on the wings of angels, happier than could be . . . even though my back and stomach were still throbbing!
Why? Because I was expecting the worst. So the reality, while it still sucked, was a blessing. In fact, any reality short of a terminal disease was a Godsend. Crippling back pain? Who gives a rat’s ass! Searing testicular cramps? Bring ‘em on!
Impotence? Ha! I laugh in the face of impotence. Kidney stones? I’ll piss rocks the size of marbles and giggle my ass off the the entire time!
What's that? I need a colonoscopy? Give me that tube, I’ll lube it up myself!
Why? Because I’m alive!
And after I got home and hugged my son for about 45 straight minutes, I started thinking:
Couldn’t this same principle work with communicating bad news? Couldn’t we lead employees to expect the absolute worst, so that the reality—no matter how bad it is—will seem okay by comparison?
It's certainly worth trying . . . because the way we do things now isn't working.
Oh, and guess what other good news came out of all this? I got Vicodin!!
Comments (20)
Good advice on the communications - setting expectations is the key. And glad to hear that the test results were (on the grand scale of life) good.
Posted by John | December 13, 2006 12:13 PM
Posted on December 13, 2006 12:13
This is an excellent idea. Your best yet (although I'm still campaigning to bring my widowed Catholic mother-in-law and her sister on board as Chief and Deputy of Internal Comms!) I think I will steal this one for the next time my gov't. agency needs to look at laying off another batch of folks. It's happening all the time, it seems, and it is particularly depressing this time of year. But now you've given me the power to bestow angel wings on the remaining staff members 'til next plucking. Bonus!
P.S. Thank you for enduring intense pain for us! I was ecstatic to see you in action last week at the Ragan Web conference. Great session, but far too brief. I'm definitely going to sign up for another, especially now that I know you're going to be around for a while.
Posted by Aidan | December 13, 2006 2:44 PM
Posted on December 13, 2006 14:44
Steve - Had a friend my age, a Catholic priest, who dropped dead last March while saying Mass. He used to say: "Existence is ecstacy. Simply knowing you're alive is to be happy."
Think your blog does that for you - and others.
Pat
Posted by patrick williams | December 13, 2006 9:43 PM
Posted on December 13, 2006 21:43
Steve,
I am so sorry to hear that your daily El Jardin’s lunch was cut to Friday’s only. You must be devastated.
Yeah kind of like reverse psychology, I’ve been doing to my kids for years. Daddy when will we be there? (2 hours away) “Five more hours kids” I’ll tell them. They get really happy two hours later when they ask again and I say “we’re here”.
I just found out that a man here who is always in good spirits went for the colonoscopy and the found cancer. He went in for surgery and they found that it spread to his liver. He was told that they would only prolong his life a little while if he did all of the chemotherapy so he said forget it. Two weeks later he was dead at 42 years old.
Sometimes your fears become reality and it’s a good idea to have your life in order for your family’s sake.
I glad your okay Steve! Take a load off… Look into video conferencing.
Posted by AN | December 14, 2006 7:25 AM
Posted on December 14, 2006 07:25
Hey Steve -
It was really great meeting you and the lovely Cindy at last week's conference. (Honestly, I always believed you made Cindy up. Who knew?) In case you need a reminder, I was the breathtakingly beautiful Nubian goddess with a glass of white wine.
I had a similar experience years ago. I have two herniated discs, scoliosis and sciatica. In other words, my spine looks like something you'd find on an archeological dig.
A few years ago, a twisted vertabrae in my upper back started to separate a rib from my sternum and I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack. I was already picking out the music I wanted sung at my memorial service but fortunately I went to my chiropractor's office before the emergency room. (they're across the street from each other.) and he fixed me up right away.
Now whenever I'm catastrophizing about something, whether personal or professional, I try to remember that and all the other health scares I've had that turned out to be nothing.
The moral: go see a chiropractor and a good man always shares his Vicodin.
Posted by marcia | December 14, 2006 10:41 AM
Posted on December 14, 2006 10:41
Steve I always look to this column for free advice on CorpComm, so this post is far more appreciated than, "Don't ride the NY rickshaws with three grown men."
I wouldn't get on one of those dam things with Nicole Richie mid-purge, they just look scary.
bravo -- excellent information.
Posted by Rob Patey | December 14, 2006 1:36 PM
Posted on December 14, 2006 13:36
Steve I always look to this column for free advice on CorpComm, so this post is far more appreciated than, "Don't ride the NY rickshaws with three grown men."
I wouldn't get on one of those dam things with Nicole Richie mid-purge, they just look scary.
bravo -- excellent information.
Posted by Rob Patey | December 14, 2006 1:45 PM
Posted on December 14, 2006 13:45
...but here's my question, Steve:
Now that you know you're OK, are you going to keep those thousand promises to God?
Will you stop throwing back the martinis, live a clean life, return to church, cancel your porn site subscription, confess your horrible sins, and devote your life to the salvation of the human race?
I'll report back to everyone in this space in a few months.
Stay tuned.
Mark Ragan
Posted by Mark Ragan | December 14, 2006 7:28 PM
Posted on December 14, 2006 19:28
Dear Steve,
This is God. Don't you think I've punished you enough with your looks. So disregard the promises in your prayers and just keep drinking those margaritas and martinis. By the way stay away from those Asian doctors. I know your affinity for Asian men. They will only lead you down the path of temptation.
Heres to the next 60 years of your life.
The God of Fat Bald Men
Posted by The God of Fat Bald Men | December 15, 2006 6:12 AM
Posted on December 15, 2006 06:12
Marcia, sounds like you got refarkled! And isn't this all about setting taint spots that underpromise allow us to "overachieve."
Happy for your good news, Steve (and Marcia). Happy Holid-- err, that is to say Happy December, indeed, for all of us.
Posted by Michael Clendenin | December 15, 2006 1:57 PM
Posted on December 15, 2006 13:57
And merry Chrismas to you Michael. And Steve, Cindy, Jim and everyone else who'd made this blog such a bright spot in my day.
Just to be sensitive:
Happy Hanukkah (Chaunakka)
Happy Kwanza. (I hope Kwanza Claus brings you something good.)
Happy Boxing Day and
Merry Winter Solstice!
If I missed anyone let me know.
Posted by Marcia | December 17, 2006 3:33 PM
Posted on December 17, 2006 15:33
Steeeeeve!
I have been in your position of praying to God for anything that will make them not say "we found something." Mine was twitching. I'm a twitcher. I have benign muscle spasms all over my body, sometimes all at once. It's freakish and annoying, but I had to go through every neurological exam known to man before I could sum it up that way.
Having expressed before that my company holds the instruction manual on how NOT to provide information - I wish that more companies would just tell it like it is, rip off the proverbial bandaid and let us decide what's devastating.
I'm glad your CT was negative - I hugged my kids for days after finding out that I didn't have a debilitating potentially life threatening neurological disorder...
and I did the bicycle rickshaw thing while in NYC - I thought of you. :)
Happy holidays to all...
Posted by Rebecca (token IT Goddess) | December 18, 2006 8:31 AM
Posted on December 18, 2006 08:31
ummmm Marcia? Feeling a bit left out over here.
How about a Festivus...for the rest of us!
"It's now time for the airing of grievances!"
Neruda
Posted by neruda | December 18, 2006 12:45 PM
Posted on December 18, 2006 12:45
Once again we will be celebrating Festivus on New Year's Eve at our house (second annual). Our friend even fashioned a festivus pole for last year, and the build up of grievances has been fierce. The kids are even involved in the airing of grievances, but the feats of strenght is my personal favorite part. Neruda, you are officially invited (just need to get to Oregon by Dec. 31).
RSVP
Posted by Eileen | December 18, 2006 12:54 PM
Posted on December 18, 2006 12:54
Neruda -
I ask for thy forgiveness! How could I possible forget Festivus? May Festivus 2006 find you and yours healthy and well!
I only wish there were a bin of holy Festivus water for me to sit in so I could offer the ultimate Crescenzo-style genuflection.
If it helps, for the first time in my life I tried singing the Hanukkah blessing for my Catholic friends who want to give their children a well-rounded spiritual education (note my description above as georgeous Nubian goddess, aka NOT Jewish). My Jewish friend gave me an "A" for effort and then nicely asked that I never do it again.
Posted by Marcia | December 18, 2006 10:24 PM
Posted on December 18, 2006 22:24
Hey, everyone!! Happy Festivus Christmas and everything!
Sorry for not taking a more active part in this fun discussion . . . had yet another death in the family. The Crescenzo Household is ready for 2006 to come screaming to a halt.
Aidan: Thanks for the nice words on the Web Content presentation. You had no idea, did you, that when I was laying on the table and doing my impression of a woman with severe menstrual cramps that I was in reality in mortal pain because of my back!! When I laid down (lay down? lied down? who the hell knows) on that table on the stage, I almost couldn't get back up.
AN: Great to see you out here again! Tell your family I said to have a great holiday.
Neruda: ditto to you, even though I don't know your family.
Mark: Not one of my promises to God had anything to do with giving up martinis. I wasn't THAT scared. But starting January 2, I am taking boxing lessons, and starting a boxer's workout, which is the best possible workout you can do, in terms of strength conditioning AND cardio work.
And it was great meeting you too, Marcia. I'm glad you got a chance to meet CIndy. Talk about a better half, huh?
And, to The God of Fat Bald Men: Thank you for all that you do for me.
Steve C>
Posted by Steve C. | December 20, 2006 7:01 AM
Posted on December 20, 2006 07:01
I'm a little behind on reading this blog, but I know for a fact this psychology works for delivering bad news. I'll tell you why. When I was in high school, I got into some trouble with a can of gasoline, a 70s leisure suit and an '89 Pontiac Bonneville. So instead of telling my parents about my run-in with the cops when I got home that night, I told them I was pregnant. After the initial bomb went off, I relieved them with the news that I wasn't pregnant, I was just charged with a misdemeanor. They took it pretty well. From that point on, it has been my method of delivering bad news to people who are in charge of me.
Posted by Andrea | December 20, 2006 3:19 PM
Posted on December 20, 2006 15:19
Steve:
Forget the workout. You're in shape already. Round is a shape, isn't it? But if you really must exercise, swimming is the way to go. Easy on the joints and works you head to toe. Bonus for you: no worries about what all that chlorine does to your hair!
Greg
Posted by Greg Marsh | December 21, 2006 8:19 AM
Posted on December 21, 2006 08:19
"When I LAY down" is correct. Sorry, I'm a grammar nerd.
Posted by ShariS | December 28, 2006 10:10 AM
Posted on December 28, 2006 10:10
Nice article but i am using song for video web conferencing
Posted by steve M. | August 30, 2007 5:42 AM
Posted on August 30, 2007 05:42