Do you want to be famous or infamous? Famous requires work and excellence. Infamous requires attention and notoriety. Infamous can come quickly. Famous usually is proceeded by dedicated focus and work.
How might we not be tempted by attention even if we risk infamy? How might we remain on course to reach a level of dedicated service that fame reaches you?
What is your personal cathedral? What place, mindset, aroma, taste, touch, etc, delivers you the ability to contemplate your existence? How do you manifest it for yourself? How do you provide that tranquility and reflection to those you serve?
If you had an hour to take key supporters on a tour of your enterprise, which stops would you include? Who would narrate? Who would you invite as guests and as representatives of the cause? Would it be primarily sightseeing, or would there be an immersive opportunity?
How might we pre-plan our itineraries for those who wish to know more about how we serve so we are not just pointing and walking when the opportunity presents itself?
Are you seen?
Who do you see?
How do you process what you have witnessed? Does it inspire, does it distract, does it deter, does it confuse?
Most of us want to be seen by somebody who believes what we believe. We want the tribe to benefit from our work and inspire those on a similar journey. Being viewed is often enough to keep us committed to climbing our selected route.
The FAA established Air Route Traffic Control Centers (ARTCC). They where not all created at once but they attempt to reflect the volume of flights and major airports that exist within each region. As general aviation pilots or plane spotting enthusiast we might have some depth of understanding as to why certain border exists. However, the genral public probably does not see the immediate rational. When in-flight, it is not obvious that our commercial flight has been handed off from one center to another (unless the air traffic control audio is made available). We assume this works like a trail being routed onto the right tracks when it leaves a large train station.
What systems in our enterprise works like the ARTCC? Which need explanation to those we serve and which ones operate in the background and provide social benefit without being highlighted?
What symbols represent your work? How and where are they displayed for the public attention? If you work as a cobbler, you might hang a silhouette of a shoe over your shop entry. Is is obvious what you do for those seeking what you have to offer?
Speed changes our sense of scale. Flying in a commercial aircraft over the landscape at 30,000 feet, we can take a peak out the window, then sip on a drink for fifteen minutes, and upon looking out the window again, the geography changes. However, shouldering a backpack and tugging on hiking boots, traversing the terrain becomes a colossal undertaking, perhaps taking weeks to cover.
How might we recognize that the speed at which we move changes the sense of scale? How might we account for the delta between a road trip on an interstate and a thru-hiker on the Continental Divide Trail? How might we understand the scale facing those that we serve?
A relative’s daughter transferred to a new High School this year. She is joining as ‘the new student,’ trying to navigate the complexities of teenage networks. After her first day, friends from her previous High School texted her to ask how the day had gone and about her experience. To me, this is the best of humanity, looking out for others as we aspire to be forces for good.
A recurring question from social sector organizations is, ‘Why have a strategic plan?’ Their typical barriers list include time, resources, frustration with the process, lack of engagement, failure of past plans, etc. I respond with counter-points and shifting mindset possibilities. However, I changed my focus the other day, advocating that these plans are for those we serve. They represent a hat tip, a shout-out, and an ‘I see you’ text to our community. It is a promise that we value their presence, and here are our best ideas to serve each of them. It is an opportunity to offer a point of confluence, a shared journey forward, but it only works if they have a seat in the boat to help us paddle around the next bend.
What if your next plan adopted the perspective of a shout-out to those you serve, reminding them of the miles traveled together and the opportunity to craft a narrative for what will come? What if it is as simple as texting your fans, ‘We see you. Thank you for being with us. Will you join us as we strive onwards?’
If we sell a car to an accountant, we might focus on the vehicle’s efficiency, cost per mile to operate, and return on investment. If we sell the car to a driving enthusiast, it may be better to concentrate on the driver experience, emotions of sitting in the car, and the story the driver can tell.
When we talk about our work with others, we do not need to sell to ourselves. Rather, it represents an opportunity to share a narrative with the audience that provides them with a chance to engage with the work. How might we find points of confluence that combine the listener’s story with our work? The authentic merging of two narratives allows another player to join the quest.
What are the five most important things your organization has forgotten?
What if you invited former board, staff, volunteers, and key insiders back for a round table (virtual, in-person, or hybrid)? If you provide them with an update on the state of the organization and then ask, ‘What are we missing and/or forgetting?‘
I work with several nonprofit boards that have term limits. As board members transition to former board members, the amount of institutional knowledge that evades transfer is overwhelming. It is not always obvious items but often the peripheral pieces.
How might we benefit from those who have proceeded us? How might those who have served continue to fuel the journey with their knowledge and networks? How might ‘end of term’ not mean ‘out of touch?’
What-if-concepts 