Written by Jack Kehoe

With public speakers, does familiarity breed contempt? Not if the orator is someone like Winston Churchill.  His speeches routinely filled every seat in Parliament even during the many years when he was virtually a pariah within his own party, despised by the opposition and generally considered a relic by the public. 

But if the orator is your boss and the speechifying occasion is a regularly scheduled monthly or quarterly address to employees, does familiarity draw a rapt audience or lead to a plague-like outbreak of attention deficit syndrome?

I think it is fair to say that most employee speeches are not delivered by speakers with Churchillian skills on topics as important as the survival of a nation. It is just as likely the speaker will mumble about the mundane at a frequency audible only to whales while the audience drifts away like plankton on a rough sea.

Of course, these are the extremes. The typical employee speech falls somewhere in the middle - not inspiring or memorable, but usually informative, often intelligible, and delivered to an audience that is at least willing to listen. There are certainly enough occasions to give these speeches. According to a recent census, there are almost 17,000 firms with more 500 or more employees in the United States. It is not a stretch to say a good number of the executives who run these firms address their employees on at least a quarterly basis.

Is Anyone Listening?

In my experience, business executives uniformly acknowledge the value of these frequent speaking opportunities. But this value begins to erode like cheap currency soon after executives mount the podium to deliver their first speech. 

The cycle always begins on a promising note. The executive's inaugural speech upon taking over a leadership role is a success often for no other reason than its novelty. The speeches that immediately follow are also likely to succeed since the topic is usually something that creates widespread apprehension, such as organizational change. It is the rare employee who is not interested in the reshuffling of the corporate deck with its political maneuverings and cast of winners and losers.

The first year of speeches is a honeymoon period for these executives. Unfortunately, the honeymoon can quickly turn into a slog of indifference - sometimes on both sides. Audience fascination rarely extends into the second year unless the speaker is a star quality CEO. Even then, audience interest will start to decline except for those subordinate mandarins who believe their corporate survival depends on excavating something profound from every prepositional phrase.

One could argue that I'm making much ado about nothing. After all, many of these speeches are nothing more than simple "state-of the-business" presentations with perhaps a Q&A session at the end. What's the big deal if the audience tunes out by the fourth syllable of the second sentence? The business executives and their communication advisors who take this view - and there are many - know from some distant class or seminar that employee communications are important. So they "communicate" on a regular basis and declare success even if they leave their audience in a coma.

But what about the business leaders who sincerely believe in the importance of employee communications? These are the leaders who would argue that every great business demands employees with a common vision, purpose and degree of accountability. These leaders sincerely want their words to inform, to inspire, to make a difference. How do they move beyond their good intentions if the audience is no longer interested in listening?

If I were a classically trained rhetorician, I would now suggest the five, ten or even fifty elements of a successful speech. Unfortunately I'm not, but I do like music and I'm genetically drawn to analogies. This leads me to my humble music collection and some potential insights on how to reverse the seemingly inexorable audience drift from welcoming interest to widespread ennui.

From Muzak to Music

Much like executives who speak but are not heard, there are albums I own that I will never, ever play again. I purchased them - which entails giving up money - so I must have liked at least a few of the songs. But after listening to them a few times, I lost interest and now they sit in my collection as mute reminders of a short-lived and puzzling infatuation. Why did I become so quickly allergic to these musicians and their songs while I repeatedly return to others of the same style or vintage? 

The first reason is authenticity - I have to admit that the music in my dust-collecting albums has about as much flavor and texture as non-fat cheese. I'm not sure why I didn't immediately recognize this pervasive blandness, but by the third playing it becomes apparent that the songs could have as easily come from a food processor as a songwriter. There is absolutely nothing distinctive or unique about this music except for the interesting sound effects I have added over the years by exposing the albums to a mixture of beer and salsa.

Authenticity, however, is not enough. If it were, I could replace my entire music collection with a karaoke machine. And while I'm drawn to musicians with strong skills, you can readily find albums displaying technical brilliance or showcasing a great voice on my "never ever disturb" shelf.  Musical skills are a precondition, but not a reason to listen.

I find I consistently return to music that responds to my needs, moods, thoughts, even lack of thoughts. Yes - it's all about me.  I want music to give me something even if I don't know why or what. But I do know when it's missing - when the music becomes pointless, simply noise set to notes.

Finally, there are the albums I play so frequently you would think I'm getting royalties. They are all by musicians who have built a special relationship with me over time. These musicians sing to me not at me. There is an unchanging openness and honesty to their music even as it evolves in style and subject. There is always character behind the chords.

Playing the Right Notes

So what lessons should a business executive take from this musical digression? 

One - make the speech your own regardless of who writes it. Employees are quick to detect a backstage ventriloquist if your only contribution is moving your lips.

Two - address what the audience needs to hear (often different from what you want to say). What do they need? It's your job to know.

Three - work very hard to earn the trust of your employees. As in any relationship, building trust takes time and can easily be derailed by evasiveness, hubris or just a few false notes - during the speech and in the days that follow.

My parting advice to those in the speechwriting community is to turn on your iPod or play a favorite CD the next time you are preparing a speech. You'll enjoy the music and it may help your executive sound less like Muzak and more like a caring and compelling leader that employees want to listen to over and over again.  Yes - play it again, Sam.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Jack Kehoe is - at the moment - a freelance speechwriter.  Previously he was the communications executive for Premier Banking of Bank of America.  During his 6 years with the company, he was responsible for business line communications with an emphasis on executive speeches, scripts and articles. Before entering corporate life, Jack was a military officer and served in a variety of leadership positions including senior communication roles with the Office of the Secretary of Defense.  You can contact him at kehoenews@yahoo.com

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