“Eulogy for a Travel Agent” or Things to do on the Internet when you're dead

"Don't be upset. Sure we
offshored your accounting
job. But we've got a special
assignment for you ...
in the kitchen."

My friend and brilliant economist Craig Garthwaite once said, "It must suck for the guy on the road crew who holds slow/stop sign to know that he could be replaced by a bucket of sand." Craig is very compassionate that way. But technology isn’t. Technology is eliminating redundant middlemen faster than the Ark Fleet Ship B from planet Golgafrincham.

And now technology has its sights set on you, the communications expert. Don't believe me? Take the following quiz to see for yourself:

Do you include any of the following among the critical contributions you make to your organization?

1. Serving as a conduit between the C-suite and PRNewswire;
2. Making sure that Legal has approved the draft release that’s scheduled to go out next Tuesday; or
3. Sitting on the PR Selection Committee to determine which agency your organization will hire to tamp down that ugly flare up with the Digby account

If you answered "yes" to any of the above, you need to listen carefully to this eulogy for a travel agent, lest you too find yourself replaced by the proverbial bucket of sand.

Eulogy for a Travel Agent

“Bob wasn’t just my travel agent; Bob was my friend. Not the come-over-and-watch-the-game-tonight kind of friend. But the kind of friend you’d call when you needed to make travel arrangements.

“Bob was my go-to guy. He’d get me the best air fares. He’d find those secret, unadvertised rental-car upgrades. And he always booked me into a modestly priced hotel right near the convention center. And not one of those flea-bag joints down by the bus station, either. I’m talking a Red Roof Inn with a continental breakfast and free Wi-Fi.

“But Bob saw the writing on the wall. One day when he was booking my trip to Peoria for the Mystery Shopping Providers Association Summit and Expo, he leaned over his desk, and he says to me, he says, ‘I can see the writing on the wall. This Internet thing is going to put me out of business.'

“So I say, ‘What do you mean, Bob?’ And he says, ‘Why would anyone hire me—or any travel agent for that matter—to do what they can easily do for themselves online?’

“I said, ‘No Bob! Even if we can book our own travel, we’ll always need travel agents because … well because …

"At that moment, we both knew it was over for him and the travel agent business.

“Bob’s with us here today. I can feel his presence. And I can see him right there in the back row. In fact, I see Bob all over town since he got laid off. Poor guy’s got nothing to do and all the time in the world to do it. Ain’t that right, Bob?”

“Damn straight!”

“So if we learn just one thing from Bob’s experience, let it be this: Don’t wait for the Internet to put you out of a job. When you see the writing on the wall, teach yourself ways to write better, run faster, and jump higher. Because that’s what Bob would have wanted.”

“Amen!”

“Thanks, Bob.”

Hey, kids ...

"Sir, we're losing Malaysia!"
"Scotty, this is the bridge.
We need more cowbell!"

If you follow us at DoyleMcdonald.com, you're going to see some reruns on FlackOps. I haven't been giving this site enough lovin' and my international fan stats are going down faster than a pair of Sears socks.

If you don't follow DoyleMcDonald.com ... well, you know the drill.

Thanks for playing.

JD

Monsters Ink: How your audience's inner monster can give your story legs

"And it's made with ... try to keep up with
me people. There's plenty more to see."

Do you fist pump when your toilet flushes properly? Yeah, me neither. Unless you’re a drug dealer, a expect it to work.
functioning toilet probably doesn’t change your life. You just

And therein lies the problem for municipal sewer authority PIOs.

Nobody cares that the sewage system infrastructure is doing its job. It's when it isn't that the conversation starts. And if the effluence hits the affluent, watch out! It’s emergency city council hearings and “the full story at 11” on channel 9.

I learned this recntly in Napa where I was speaking to the California Association of Public Information Officials. During Q and A, the PIO for a municipal sewer authority asked, “What is the best way to inform our customers that our system has the lowest rate of incidents in the region and that we have never gone over budget?”

“There is no good way. Nobody cares. Much like a dependable toilet, you’re doing what people expect you to do.”

“But my boss wants me to get the word out and I’m having a very difficult time.”

“I’ll bet. Let me ask you a question. Have you ever seen the video of the North Carolina sewer monster? Because people care about the North Carolina sewer monster.”

The NCSM is a blob of wormy tentacles that actually moves when it senses danger. The video—which showed several of these critter living in the sewers of Raleigh, NC—got over 5 million hits on YouTube and was featured on ABC World News Tonight.

"Aligning your organization's story with a popular story or video is a great way to grab people's attention."

Awkward silence, then ...


“Buy my boss does't want us to show our customers videos of sewer monsters. He wants us to tell them about our incident-free system and sound budget management.”

“Let’s break it down,” I said, drawing two circles on the white board. “The big circle on the left represents everything you could possibly say about the sewer authority. The small circle on the right represents everything your customers want to hear about the sewer authority. You see that tiny spot where the two circles touch? That’s sewer monsters. And the only way you’re going to get information from your circle into their circle is through that tiny sewer-monster connection.”

More awkward silence. It was apparent that not everyone was ready to color outside the lines to get their story out. But I also saw a few people nodding, smiling, and taking notes. And while the day did not end with a "slow clap" send off, I knew there were some PIOs who were already thinking of ways to tell a better story.

On the way back to the airport, I wondered whether the sewer monster example was a good idea after all. But even though it was an off-the-cuff response, I still haven't come up with anything better. So I'm asking you, how would you have answered the question?

Seven things you can do TODAY to improve your writing

"For the life of me,
I can't remember the
seventh one either."

1. Strip down to your BVDs. To everybody but your mother, your organization is just another unknown guitar player on the Venice Beach boardwalk, a Robert John Burck if you will.

Who? Exactly.

Burck was a “piss-poor, no-good” guitar-playing model who couldn’t busk enough change on a good day to buy a venti Frappuccino–until he got naked. Now, Burck—aka The Naked Cowboy—is a fixture in Times Square who has made a fortune with his trademarked Naked Cowboy franchise. Lesson: Find that one feature that separates you from the pack, and ride it till you shred the tires.

2. Hunt down and kill clichés. The cliché is a cunning quarry. It blends in with your creative copy, waiting silently for your reader to stumble upon it and then BAM! It bores them to tears. So be …

Dear God! Nobody move. There’s a cliché right behind us. Don’t panic. Just reach deep into your brain and pull out some creativity. No, the right side, you fool! Dig deeper! I know it’s in there. Good. Now, let’s pray to God this works.

… for your reader to stumble upon it and then BAM! It leaps straight into her brain, devouring any interest she may have had in reading further. So be vigilant. The story you save may be your own.

3. Help people feel big numbers. Employing the “to-the-moon-and-back” gimmick to explain a big number is like using Ken and Barbie to demonstrate a passionate kiss. If you must drop a big number into your copy, drop it on the audience’s feet. Need to show them a trillion? Start with something they can grasp, like a second. If one million seconds equals 11-and-a-half days, how long is a billion seconds? 32 years. Which means a trillion seconds is 32,000 years. Brain cramp, right? That’s how you leave a mark with a number.

4. Sing your story. A well written story is a song. Whether it flows lyrically or marches forward with a staccato beat, a good story has a tempo that augments the message and enhances the reader’s experience. And it’s surprisingly easy to do. As you edit, read your copy out loud. If you don’t notice a natural cadence to the narration, try culling a few syllables—through word choice or word chopping—to make your copy more melodic.

5. Don’t forget to floss your copy. Even the best copy can get gummed up with jargon, acronyms, and legalese. To prevent unsightly copy-stain buildup, scour your copy vigorously. And be extra vigilant with the phrase “wide variety.” If you ever find it in your copy, hit “ctrl A” then “ctrl x.” That should clear up the problem right away.

6. Hit on one member of your audience. You wouldn’t try to hook up with every person at Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, would you? Of course not. You want to focus all that charisma into a single charm-laser so you have a better chance of not going home alone. Same with writing. Envision who you are writing for—in detail—then hit that person with all the Cyrano you can muster.

7. Imagine that your new friend has to go to the bathroom. Really bad. Nobody ever complained about a speech being too short. The same goes for just about everything else you write. If you spend as much energy compressing your word count as you do finding fun phrases, you will have a more appreciative—and less squirmy—audience.

"I sure hope folks don't
think I'm gilding the lily."

We asked people to describe the viral video Real Dove Beauty Sketches to our forensic artist. Here are their stories.

“What can you tell me about the video?”

“Well, I didn’t completely understand what I was watching at first, but all my Facebook friends told me that I just had to watch it till the end because it would … it would…”

“It would what, ma’am?”

“It would make me … cry.”

“And did you? Cry, I mean.”

“Yes, I did. But not in a bad way. It was a good cry because the message was so real. So … uplifting.”

“I’m not here to judge, ma’am.  Now, please give me a little more detail about this video.”
“Well, there were four or five women in it and they were asked to describe themselves to a forensic artist—a lot like what we’re doing here, in fact! But the artist in the video couldn’t see the women. After he drew their pictures, he asked other people—people who had spent some time with these women—to describe what they thought the women looked like. And … well, you’re just not going to believe this … the portraits that were based on how other people described these women were far more beautiful than the ones based on the women’s self-descriptions. It was so amazing. I’m getting verklempt just thinking about it.”

“Why’s that, ma’am?”

“Can’t you see? Our beauty-based culture has forced women to think they are less beautiful than they really are. You could see that these women had natural, physical beauty. But they just couldn’t see it themselves. There is just no wonder that this video has gotten a virus.”

“Ma’am?”

“You know, been seen by millions of people. It is so powerful.”

“Thanks, ma’am. We’ll be in touch. Next!”

“This video was the biggest crock of sh— the biggest load of malarkey I’ve seen since Kony 2012.”

“How’s that, sir?”

“People think they’re watching a video that celebrates a woman’s inner beauty. But the real message of the video is ‘you’re not as physically unattractive as you think you are, so just go on out there and keep being as physically beautiful as you can be.’”

“I’m going to need some more details.”

“Cool, I took notes. Take this one gal. When she’s looking at the two portraits of herself, she says ‘Chloe’s perception was so, so clearly different. Her picture looked like somebody I thought I would want to talk to and be friends with … like a happy, light, much younger, much brighter person.’

“So if I follow her logic, she is more inclined to ‘talk to’ and ‘be friends with’ someone who appears ‘much younger, much brighter.’ Wow. She’s not just judging the book by its cover. She’s taking age into account, too.

“Now, I’m the first to admit that it’s possible that I twisted the meaning of her words in my typically cynical way. So I watched the video again and took more notes. The blond in the turtle neck says, and I quote: ‘I should be more grateful of my natural beauty. It impacts the choices and the friends that we make, the jobs we apply for, how we treat our children. It impacts everything. It couldn’t be more critical to your happiness.’

“Your ‘natural beauty’ affects ‘how we treat our children’? Paging Steve Buscemi, Child Protective Services on line one.

“Look, this thing was a setup from the start. All of the women in it were physically attractive. The artist was in on the joke, and the piece was produced and edited explicitly to tweak our tear glands. What amazes me is that millions of people fell for it.”

“So what lessons can we learn from this experience?”

“Good question. First, gimmicks sell. As manipulative as it was, the premise of the ‘unbiased’ forensic artist was brilliant. Second, amateur-looking video is hot—even slick, expensive ‘amateur’ videos like this one. It makes the viewer feel closer to the action. And third … perception is reality.”

West Side Storycide

"The whole time? I was
wearing this rug
the whole time? I did
not see that coming."

Judging from the cards and letters we’ve received this week (Box 3-5-0, Boston Mass, 0hh-2-1-3-foour), you guys want more details on how to end your own nonfiction stories. Life doesn’t tie up loose ends Ellery Queen-style. No, that’s your job. But we’re going to help you mugs with a new series we call “assisted storycide.”

When inspiration shakes us by the lapels, we’ll post a case story featuring a specific type of ending—happy, sad, surprise, Phillips head, whatever—and then offer advice based on that story. Today’s lesson: “Leave them laughing.”

There’s nothing funny about people jumping in front of trains to end their tormented lives … usually. So when you play suicide for laughs, you should employ a somber tone. We opted for film noir for this story …

Strangeness on a Train

Megan and I were on the 7 a.m. Acela bound for New York when the engineer stomped on the brakes like they owed him money. We were miles from the next station … and just inches away from caboose-ing the 6:30 a.m. Northeast Regional.

From my window, I could see dozens of young commuters stepping off the train, sporting hand-tailored Zegnas and thousand-mile stares. I had to chuckle as these apprentices of the universe shuffled toward us, squinting like mole people in the bright sunlight. It looked like career day at Zombie U.

Minutes later, the dazed passengers from that train—there were over 100 of them—crammed into ours. We were packed tighter than a Japanese subway car, but our new guests stayed mum. Then this short gal with a blond pageboy starts sobbing hysterically about some mooch who mistimed his suicide leap. He got the job done but left a grisly vista for those seated on the left.

With the seal busted, some know-it-all started gabbing about the “protocol for such situations,” which included yellow-vested conductors barking through bull horns, a neatly choreographed “disembarkation” routine, and oddly enough, the distribution of free snack packs. The things you learn on the way to the Big City.

On the Acela back to DC that evening, we met a surprising number of people who had started their day on the Kevorkian Express. A productive day in the city and a few cold ones had knocked the zombie out of them and loosened the screws at the back of their tongues. They were dishing the gruesome details of the morning’s entertainment, and we were lapping it up with ladles.

But just as they were getting to the good part, there was crash that would have startled Buddy Rich and the train made an unscheduled jump on the tracks. Rather than die down, the crash got louder as it rumbled from the cow-catcher to the middle of the car behind us. I was hoping that the crackling thunder below us was a mangled Pathmark shopping cart, but the veterans among us knew better—another Choo Choo Charlie had taken the A train to the Promised Land.

As the train came to a stop, everyone froze. It was as quiet as a speakeasy just before the doors get kicked in. Then, before the conductor could grab his bull horn, two of the Ghost Train frequent flyers looked at each other and shouted, “Free Snack Packs!!”

And they were right.

The lessons:

“Begin with the end in mind.” Any good story goes through unexpected permutations as it’s being developed, which is a natural and good thing. But one thing should remain constant – the ending. As Yogi Berra wisely said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you might not get there.”

Foreshadowing – It’s important to offer smalls references in the body of the story to the element(s) that are crucial to the end—the “free snack packs,” in this case.

Careful foreshadowing – It’s also risky. The foreshadowing has to be done in a way that does not blow the joke. In this case, we said “free snack packs” twice. But if we had gotten just a twinkle more than a wistful smile from our audience, the ending would have been shot.

Brevity is the soul of wit – The two most important elements of any story are the beginning and the end. The closer together you put these two critical elements, the better your story will be. As Kurt Vonnegut said, “Start as close to the end as possible.”

When you’re done, you’re done. Denouements are for novelists and overachievers. When you made your point, stop talking.

Stay stoic, my friend. If the story you’re telling gets the laughs you expect (or any that you’re not expecting), do not laugh. Or, as Mark Twain advised, “The teller does his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it.”

They don’t call it the climax for nothing: How to satisfy your audience with a powerful ending

"Stop your worrying. I talked
to Chase and he said there
is no chance in hell that
they would use that
ridiculous scene to end th--"

As with rock concerts, fireworks displays, and full-body massages, you can’t have a great story without a great ending–or grand finale as the French would say, which oddly enough means “1,000 curtain-rod end-pieces” (origin unknown).

Think of the climax as your gift to the audience for all they’ve endured to get to the end of the story—whether plowing through page after page of Stephen King’s description of the hedge maze in The Shining, or simply maintaining your expectant smile and raised eyebrows as your roommate tells you anew about last night’s date.

They’ve done their part, so you’ve got to do yours. But how? Here are two resources that should prove helpful.

The first is a well thought out tutorial by Ylva Publishing—“Publisher of lesbian fiction and women’s literature” (rawr). The post, entitled “Satisfying endings,” skillfully guides the reader from the climax—“the highest point of tension and action,” to the denouement, another French word which, roughly translated, means, “Thanks. I’ll call you.”

It’s worth a read … and maybe even a cigarette.

But the most instructive tutorial on the importance of a good ending is found here—a video of the 2010 Disclosure Conference at the National Press Club. It’s long (an hour and change), but the stories are riveting. And the endings are even better.

I can state with certainty that you will never encounter worse endings than these, which is amazing because these stories are the eye-witness accounts of aliens hovering over nuclear missile silos and deactivating the nukes, and they’re being told by the former Air Force officers who commanded those missile silos!

In their defense, these guys were probably as surprised that they were speaking at a national news briefing as they were about their close encounters with aliens. And possibly even more frightened by it. But even cutting them that slack, these are without a doubt the most horrendous endings on some of the most amazing stories of all time.

Take the time to watch video. Study each ending closely. And then do the opposite when it’s your turn to tell a story.