As briefly as I can, I want to address something before we dive into this week’s column on stickiness. I received some direct feedback on last week’s column about the need to be willing to change when selecting new leaders. The genesis of the column is because four local leaders in the three weeks notified me, they are leaving, mid-career, for other opportunities elsewhere that were a “better fit.”

The phrase is in quotations because that’s a polite way to say they either no longer feel needed/wanted/valued at their current position, or that they feel like they could be more needed/wanted/valued somewhere else. In the framing of the topic, some people took offense to my pointing out that I have noticed some Baby Boomers — who make up the majority of our business leaders, municipal leaders and nonprofit boards, who make new hire decisions — have been change-resistant in the past decade.

Despite twice in the column saying I did not mean all Baby Boomers, some still took offense with that generalization. I could go on with why this framing was chosen, but that is unimportant. I would just say my intent was not to offend, and sorry if you were offended. The fact remains though, that in selecting the individuals who will lead our organizations into the next decade, selecting the leaders who have the skills to thrive in the decades ahead, is far more valuable than to try to find a leader who would have been the ideal candidate for the decades behind. Because you don’t want to have leaders leaving because somewhere else is a ‘better fit.”

Now on to stickiness.

We had one of our 12 @ 12 networking lunches this week, and a new attendee e-mailed me about how they should spend their 5-minute speaking allotment to be memorable to the other attendees. Instead of telling you yet what I suggested to be sticky, I want to show you what I mean.

Here is how I led off a special edition e-newsletter this week, that was introducing our upcoming Haunted Hayrides. It’s a narrative piece that may seem unrelated, but I promise I will tie it back to the point in the end. It’s a narrative from two perspectives: a rider on the hay wagon and a performer in the fairgrounds scaring riders. Trust me, this will get back to stickiness. Enjoy it.

A View from Two Sides: A Haunted Hayride Tale

A view from two sides: A Haunted Hayride tale

Rider: You’re waiting in line, looking at the sponsor signs and beginning to get a little uneasy that you’re here alone. You’re not alone, of course, you have about 100 people waiting in line with you, and you’re the sixth one in line — definitely going on the next wagon. But your friends were busy, and your cousin bailed, so you are about to get on the wagon, with other people, but alone. The unmistakable whir of a chainsaw echoes through the misty darkness, it is followed by two dozen terrified screams but you can’t even tell from which direction the screams came. 

Performer: Through your mask, you love watching the chainsaw guys. You know it’s coming — the riders know it’s coming sometime — but they still lose their minds as soon as the chainsaw whirs. You take a lot a pride of not needing chainsaws to scare people. You just prowl in the darkness, searching each wagon for the right person who’s not paying attention to the darkness. The riders are giggling, unprepared for the next surprise — you spot your next victim.

Rider: You’re on the wagon and rolling, positioned on a hay bale between a couple clearly on their first date, and a mom telling her face-painted son that if it gets too scary that she can hold him. The skeleton-painted face says, ‘Mommy, if you get scared, I’ll protect you.’ You probably should have been watching outside the wagon, because you wouldn’t have jumped when the Ring Master yelled through a bull horn, “Welcome my pets!” You will remain more alert as you go, or so you tell yourself. 

Performer: The scarecrows always make for a lovely diversion as they take themselves down from their mounts, and approach the wagons. The zombies emerging from the piles of dirt now get noticed by some too- for you it is a perfect time to strike …

The story continues from there, and, as you will likely guess, the performer eventually scares that exact rider and you learn about what makes the performer scary. 

Here’s the thing though, I wanted you to feel something. I hope that in some small way, you got a least an inkling of how it feels to be both a rider on a hay wagon and a performer in the filed during this event. Now, I could have spent the last 400 words telling you about the event details, and volunteer opportunities, sponsorship, etc. (and in future columns of course, I will) but to grab your attention, and be sticky, I chose to lead with this narrative. 

Why does it work? Because of the detail. Because the rider is riding alone, and meets the mom and the face-painted child. Because the performer has a code that he is scary enough without chainsaws to scare riders. Because no one knows what is looking back at you in the darkness. 

That’s what I told my new attendee at the 12 @ 12 networking lunch — that the specifics matter. They are in an industry where routinely people lead with their products and services. But no one in five minutes will remember an hour later the list of services you provide, but they will remember who you are. Be sticky by giving a few details on your life — why you are in the business you are, and what your core beliefs are. Make them feel something. Then, from there, they will be more willing to get all the other details.

Cory King is executive director of the Bath-Brunswick Regional Chamber of Commerce.