Successful Blog

BlogWell 2 Chicago: Some Big Companies Do Connect

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Experience Is The Best Teacher

If we hang too long in the wrong corners of the social web, we might form the impression that all big companies are evil or inept. The ones I met yesterday were anything but.

Great companies — big and small — have always cared about customers.

Yesterday, I had the experience of BlogWell 2 Chicago: How Big Companies Use Social Media, a 1/2 day seminar, offered by blogcouncil and gaspedal. The event was under the care of gas pedal CEO, bestselling author and Word of Mouth Maven, Andy Sernovitz.

I attended on a press pass, and I’m delighted that I went. The seminar wasn’t what I expected. I was surprised by familiar “blogger passion and camaraderie” of the event. Possibly that open atmosphere could be the strongest proof that these companies are set on getting social media “right.”

Blogwell is framed around 8 major brand case studies presented as two tracks of four. All are taped on video so that participants can see the case studies they don’t attend. The companies presenting were:

  • The Home Depot
  • Mayo Clinic
  • H&R Block
  • Sharpie
  • US Coast Guard
  • Allstate
  • Molson
  • Procter & Gamble

The sold out room was filled with big companies, consultants, and members of the press talking every possible minute about how social media might fit their business and how businesses might find ways to help people connect. [Check the sidebar to see the Videos from BlogWell 1]

The compelling thread that seemed to run through every story was that despite the size of the company or the brand — from Sharpie to Procter & Gamble — the social web initiative was something that started with a passion for the space and a willingness to learn. I attended four sessions and the messages seemed resoundingly clear … Listen before you act. Start where you are. Move in manageable ways. Know where you’re going. It’s a lot of work. The end game is helping people connect.

The open conversation and communication about moving from the known to the unknown toward the community in ways the community responded to was natural and filled with the positive learning culture all successful thinkers value.

The break conversation was equally refreshing, friendly, and informative. I enjoyed the interactions I had every point of the way. BlogWell was simple, elegant and totally delivered on it’s promise. Don’t hesitate to attend.

These huge brands are tackling the same social media problems we are — we’re building answers from the outside in and from the inside out. I left with the hopeful thought that the digital divide might be closing sooner than I thought.

Thank you, Andy. I hope have that experience again.

–ME “Liz” Strauss
Work with Liz!!

How Do You Give Back a Conversation to Someone Who's Checked Out?

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Thoughtful – Huh?

Ever patiently listened while another person talked? Ever planned a mental vacation while someone, so completely wrapped up in expressing the details of a thought, didn’t notice you had checked out?

Yeah, I’ve been in there, too.

But yesterday, at least once, I was the one who forgot that I was supposed to let someone else talk. I wandered through my head while I lost the chance to hear another person’s thoughts. He was miles away before I realized he was gone. By that time, the conversation had gone woefully, off course. I wish that guy would have found a way to turn me “off.”

He was generous when I apologized, but by then, he was done. Hope he, at least, had found a mental vacation spot more intriguing than the subject I’d been endlessly exploring without him.

How do you give back a conversation to someone who’s checked out?

–ME “Liz” Strauss
Work with Liz!!

Storytelling Hits Home

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“The way to make a movie is to understand that you’re speaking to one person at a time, in the dark.”        

As bloggers we write to tell stories as a way of sharing information in a personal engaging way. A filmmaker takes the same approach and looks for feedback to gauge the response of viewers. We see the fruit of our efforts as individuals respond to our work and, in doing so, allow us to to become part of their community.

This week,I was struck by how powerful the failure of a community can be on an individual. My most recent film project, (Yes, I’m a multi-tasker!) is a documentary about a teenage drug addict. I have built a relationship with my subject and she has let me into her life, her family and, I like to think, into her heart. We have an understanding and although, she relates to me through a lens, figuratively and literally, she trusts me. Recently, we met to shoot some footage. We spent a day together hanging out, talking about her life, her plans and how she was doing. She seemed okay.

The next night I received a call late in the evening. She was sobbing and explained she had been arrested for a robbery. She needed money for drugs and was desperate. She was sorry she let me down and was scared. When I hung up the phone all I could think about how was her community had let her down. She had been in trouble with the law before and had just been released from a facility – no follow-up, no counseling, just released. Her community let her down. When the “fruit” hit the fan, she called me, her filmmaker, her storyteller, not the people I might list on her bio. 

I think this is a very striking example of what happens in the online community, we tell a quick story, we watch for a response, and we may even respond to a few comments. I’m working to let the people know in my community when they make “that call”, I’m on the other end of the phone – are you?

Kathryn aka northernchick

Jim G, Mr. Detroit, and a Saloon Fight: What Makes You a Fiercely Loyal Customer?

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I grew up hearing fiercely loyal customers tell stories about my dad. Other such stories I lived myself …

I was about 20 years old, home from college for the weekend. I stopped by the saloon to see my dad. All the guys were razzing him saying things like, “Close the cash register, the Boss is in town.” I was grinning back, “A smile from my dad is all I’m after.”

Some guy from Detroit swaggered in like this was any old bar, and he was some hot stuff. The big spender sat down and ordered a 50-cent, 8 oz. draft beer. He chose the red stool to Jim G, a guy about my age, who saw my dad as his surrogate father.

I had just thanked Jim G 83 times for fixing the flat tire on my boyfriend’s car — he’d driven out 17 miles to help me when I was stranded on route 80. We met for the first time by the side of that highway just 18 hours earlier.

I didn’t notice the Detroit stranger order his beer. I never served drinks there. Everyone knew my dad didn’t want me to. By the time the guy got it, I was teasing my dad and talking to a Joey D. He was an old guy who knew me since I was still sitting on the bar with my feet hanging.

Next thing you know, Mr. Detroit threw a fist in Jim G’s face. They were having it out right there in seconds. My sixty-something dad flew over the bar, pulled the guys apart, and handed them over to a couple of friends. Then, as a deputy of the county, he called the cops to pick up Mr. Detroit for visit to the local jail.

It was then that I heard the story. Mr. Detroit had asked Jim for my name. Jim said, “I told him ‘You wanna know, ask her or ask her father.’ I wasn’t going to tell him if you didn’t want him to know.”

Later that night, my dad bailed Detroit out of jail, took him to breakfast, and sent him on his way.

In a small town saloon, personal and business relationships can’t be separated. You throw guys in jail and you bail ’em later. You feed ’em and let ’em know you’ve been there.

My dad cared about the people who were his customers and so they cared about him. He looked out for them and they looked out for him. Investment made investment returned. It’s the ROI of relationships — in spades. For me, it was like church, family, and Mark Twain to be there. Lots of others felt the same way that Jim G and I did.

What makes you a fiercely loyal customer?

–ME “Liz” Strauss
Work with Liz!!

Cool Kids, Granny Dresses, and Back Channel Intercoms: How Do You Trust People You Can't See?

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I Heard Them Laughing

I was 13. What an awful age, but one for learning human dynamics.

A bunch of clueless moms had arranged something, a sleepover of about 8 girls. Who knows why they thought this group belonged together? We were mismatched in maturity, in intelligence, in interests, and most importantly in that sacred cow of 13-year-oldness … popularity. I dreaded going.

Additional humiliation. We all had to wear granny gowns.

Everything went in the awkward and tensely exciting way things do when you’re 13. I was mostly listening. Mostly everyone was mostly nice to mostly everyone. We ate. We talked. We listened to music.

I was the first in the group to use the facilities up the stairs. The group didn’t realize that a heating vent connected the party room to the bath room. That vent also served as a back channel intercom.

I heard them talk and laugh. They were talking “cool talk” about how cool they were and how cool I was not. Peer pressure and insecurity drives that sort of stuff. When you’re 13, finding who’s the coolest is the coolest thing of all.

Back downstairs, I didn’t let on. Other girls left the room. Other girls heard things. I saw it on their faces.

Before I went to sleep I vowed a 13-year-old’s vow that I’d never be a smiler who talked mean on a “back channel intercom.”

Air and Empty Shoes

Now, I send you a tweet. I write a comment on your blog. You answer.

I can’t see you. You can’t see me. That can be a scary feeling.

I have to use what you give me to decipher whether you mean what you say. Who knows? You could be laughing behind the screen. You could be back channeling messages. You could contradict what you tell me when you’re with cooler kids than I am.

But then offline life is like that too. . . .

Trust doesn’t happen spontaneously. We can’t engineer a community by inviting 8 pseudo friends to the same party or dressing in the same clothes. And as a species, it’s our nature to have all too many back channel intercoms.

I can’t see you. You can’t see me.
If we’re invisible, so are the things we stand for.
Can’t build much that lasts on air and empty shoes.
But we can let ourselves and our values shine through.
Integrity, consistency, and trustworthiness show up equally as whole and as frequently as we do.

Community grows from what we see, what we are, what we imagine together.
And the more we show up, the more we find in each other.

How do you trust people you can’t see?
People ask me that all the time. Now I’m asking you.

–ME “Liz” Strauss
Work with Liz!!