thus reframing the benefit as
“smart” rather than “fast.” Our
challenge was to help them
understand the difference and
to shift their marketing emphasis.
A colleague who manages
large teams talks about his staff
(as well as himself) in terms of
“strengths” and “development
opportunities.” I was taken aback
the first time I heard it, but he
eventually called attention to
his choice of words, acknowledged that they had a bit of an
overly earnest flavor, but that
by choosing not to talk about
his “weaknesses,” he felt he was
more empowered to address
them. He used an awkward
choice of words to create that
learning moment, and I could
imagine him explaining to his
reports why he wanted to use
that language. In this case, the
story behind the word choice has
more power than mere rhetoric,
and the interactions to which the
choice of words leads can support his goals as a manager.
In my consulting practice,
when developing a work plan
to share with clients, I go
back and forth between using
methodological jargon such as
“photojournal” and using more
plainspoken alternatives such
as “having people take pictures
of their daily lives.” While “
photojournal” is hardly a complex
term, and used in context it’s
probably pretty clear, it still isn’t
as descriptive as the other. But
there’s value in describing an
approach with a proper title: It
lends credibility to the recommendation. How do I find the
right balance between expertise
and accessibility? It’s a tension I
negotiate constantly.
The late George Carlin built
his entire career out of highlighting the cultural baggage
that gets attached to words and
phrases. He managed to offend
a lot of people in the process,
but that only made his case
stronger. The way we use words
says a lot about us, and sometimes what’s revealed is awfully
silly, yet true (“In baseball the
object is to go home! And to be
safe!”). But without Carlin or his
equivalent, we are compelled
to deal with words as they are
presented, with all their hidden implications, promises, and
expectations. For example, as
fans of the show “Rescue Me,”
we were disappointed by the
delay of the fifth season until
March 2009 (thanks to the writer’s strike), but were intrigued
to learn about the online release
of a number of “minisodes.” I
hadn’t heard the word mini-sode before, but I interpreted it
as a contraction of “mini” and
“episode,” suggesting some brief
narrative. I watched some of the
minisodes and found them lacking in any story development,
just a collection of context-free
scenes with the familiar characters acting as they do. Rather
than any form of episodes, these
were obviously scenes that
were shot for past episodes and
perhaps edited to stand alone.
We’ve learned, through DVDs,
what deleted scenes look and
feel like, and it’s nothing like
a mini-episode. The producers
and marketers of “Rescue Me”
• Buzzwords like
“innovation” can
be overused
to the point
where they lose
all meaning.