Top 10 reasons why listening matters to human beings

10.

Careful listening saves people and organizations from making mistakes,
committing embarrassments, creating needless conflict, and
becoming encumbered by destructive barriers.

9.

The commitment to listening fosters learning.

8.

It encourages others to listen to us.
Human beings often need to be heard before they can hear. By listening, you earn your right to be listened to. We can actually help others become better listeners by modeling the behaviors ourselves.

7.

 Listeners have more power and impact on others than most people realize.

Good listeners have advantages.

6.

By listening, you’re not merely taking in data and info, but also bearing witness to another’s expression or interpretation.

5.

Being listened to fortifies our sense of self, clarifies our thinking,
helps us discover how we feel, and nourishes our sense of self-worth.

(Not being heard, never being listened to, saps our vitality     and enthusiasm for life.)

4.

Becoming a good listener gives us the power to foster positive change and

to transform relationships.

3.

Credibility is more important than slickness or glibness.
The best talkers are often not the best listeners.

2.

The best listeners often make the best leaders/managers.

The best conversationalists are often the best listeners.

And the Number 1 Reason...

The quality of listening in our lives—how well we listen, how well we’re listened to—shapes choice and character, in both the speaker and the listener.
Ultimately, it has the power to shape our quality of life.

Next week: How do good listeners gain advantages?

Why the Netflix Price Increase Even Rates as News

It's easy to see why Netflix has been a best-loved service: their price is good, they pick up on your preferences and try to customize choice lists, and (when my kid experienced a DVD delivery mishap) they're quick to respond and remedy. They were "reasonable" in every positive sense of the word.

That was 24 hours ago. Right now, Netflix's blog has capped out at 5,000 irate customer comments in response to their 7/13/11 price change. Their Facebook page has roughly 1,000 "likes" and over 50,000 irate customer comments ranging from "Cancelled" and "U Suck" to "How dare you treat your loyal customers this way; we helped you build your business."

"It's only entertainment," you might say. This is true. But it's really a story about relationship.

Consider the context in which Netflix made this change:

• The recession. Enough said.

• A general confounded public frustration with politics, especially as party leaders and Obama try to negotiate on the debt ceiling with — so far — a profound lack of progress. With this change, Netflix just joined the ranks of those inchoate external forces who, in perception if not reality, is making life harder for the consumer. Perception becomes reality.

• The state of Minnesota is in shutdown, months after the same thing nearly happened to the entire nation. Just when we thought we'd narrowly skirted that disaster, Minnesota's plight reminds us it's entirely possible still, especially as debt ceiling talks stumble on.

At the very least, instead of sending out stoic messages explaining a far more complicated price increase, Netflix could've tried to look pained at even having to make the change at all ("We know this will hurt but here's why we too have felt the economic times in which we all live"). If it's going to pain your customers, it had better pain you twice as much. And if it doesn't, at least try to fake it. Bring them on board as sympathetic partners.

In the end, this 60% increase is still less than $20/month, but Netflix forgot a few things:

• In a recession, people not only invest loyalties in but maintain affection for organizations that provide flexible, understanding solutions. Customers deserted Blockbuster and went to Netflix in droves, in part because of the recession's pinch, but also because Blockbuster's policies felt punitive by comparison.

• Movie escapism got Americans through the Depression; all we did was change technology and modality, but the emotional reasons are still the same.

• In a recession, people will keep searching for alternatives. If they find you objectionable, they'll settle for "good enough," rather than maintain a relationship in which they feel badly betrayed. Real or perceived, Netflix is coming off as motivated by simple corporate greed, and after years of corporate calamities like the BP oil crisis, the Fannie Mae debacle, bank failures, company bailouts, and stories of happily overpaid CEOs, the U. S. public is sick and tired of corporate and legislator greed.

Netflix wore the white hat — until now: No matter how well-justified this new plan, they were asking for a 60% rate increase. It doesn't matter if you're shining shoes or providing electricity: a 60% increase is going to raise comments, and those are only the customers who feel like speaking up. Only 20% usually do; the rest simply change, walk away mad, and talk bad about you behind your back, not to your face (partly why I repeat this credo to my clients — "a complaint is a gift") ...

Potential Netflix customers will be asking colleagues, neighbors, fishing buddies: "So, Joe, you were with Netflix. Did you like them? You don't? What are you doing instead?"

The fact is, with this debacle, all the negative reporting on Netflix's poorly handled price increase has given free and positive word-of-mouth to their competitors, at their cost.

The Dignity Domino

Security expert Gavin De Becker first introduced this term in his 1997 book, The Gift of Fear, urging employers to “prop up with courtesy and understanding” that bit of personal dignity in each employee, especially ones facing termination.

           

Young, broke, and eager to master his writing, John Steinbeck considered his options with a teacher’s advice to live in Europe: “Over there poverty is considered a misfortune. Here in America it’s considered shameful.”

Through no fault of our own, this recession has put a great many of us into a valley of shame—lengthy unemployment, debt, collections, notice of insufficient funds, foreclosure—all the scary harbingers of personal ruin.

            As this economy slowly turns around, more and more I get called to speak on matters involving workplace civility and dealing effectively with difficult customers. No surprise. As pressures mount, people are finding it harder to maintain calm, patience, and understanding; they’re knotted up with fear—fear of foreclosure, fear of collections, fear of losing their jobs.

            There’s nothing revolutionary about providing superior customer service during a slow economic recovery. It’s simple.

            Protect your customer’s dignity domino.

            Don’t embarrass the customer in front of others.

            No matter how sacred your policies are, don’t embarrass the customer in front of their own children (or employees). Recall the grocery scene from the old movie, “Terms of Endearment,” when a rude checkout clerk yells across the store, “She doesn’t have enough money!” — much to a young mother’s humiliation and to her children’s mortification.

            Emphasize that you’re aiming for a long-term relationship. How would you feel about remaining loyal to someone who throws you overboard at the first sign of trouble?

Don’t let your competitors beat you to it, in simply being kinder and more understanding to your customers. As a recent car commercial said, “This isn’t over for any of us until it’s over for all of us.” Until it ends, we’ll need to help each other, especially if we want to count on customer loyalties when households start to experience “disposable income.” They may condemn ruined buildings but the human spirit is strong, and people always, always, always remember how they were treated. 

Controlling Creative (Part 3 of 3)

I’m frequently asked, “How can you keep people from stealing your ideas?”

Answer: I can’t. In fact, I don’t even try, figuring that creativity and originality are muscles—what doesn’t get regularly used (by the habitual plagiarist) will become flaccid over time, but you can’t let those negatives keep you from striving to be creative and original, or from producing your ideas.

This is the last of three client examples that come to mind when talking about controlling creative.

Finally, there was Rich Chey, an Atlanta restaurant entrepeneur who wanted to start a chain of noodle shops where diners could choose from diverse mix of noodle and rice dishes from differing parts of Asia, with wait staff that could advise them fluently on the way each dish was prepared.

I’d already done a logo for him—Highland Bagel, formerly in Virginia-Highland—and was impressed by his blend of openness and practicality. It did not surprise me to learn he had an MBA from Wharton, where relational skills are a premium.

Once I was on his team, he trusted me, showed me his business plan, walked me around the restaurant site so I’d experience it as future patrons would, welcomed me into his home where he and I studied colors from Chinese watercolor scrolls so I could get a sense of his druthers, while my daughter, then a little kid, played catch with his wife. 

And here’s the thing about Rich: when I was developing the Doc Chey’s Noodle House logo, he never had me sign a non-disclosure form (it’s automatic with me and my clients that I work non-disclosure anyway). He gave me notes on each idea, but he never micro-managed me. Years later, whenever he staged a mock service to test new menu ideas, he’d invite me as part of the Doc Chey community.

It did not surprise me that Doc Chey’s had community dining tables, participated in charity events; that they welcomed walk-up, dressed-down patrons from the neighborhood, whose small children are always kindly accommodated; or when he and his partner came up with the additional “Peace/Love/Noodles” idea for the T-shirts.

And he always referred to the final logo as our logo.