Redefining the profession - business communicators

Imagine how your life as a professional would change if the history of the communication field suddenly vanished from your mind. Wiped out like a deleted computer file. The past is a blank screen. Suddenly, you have no idea - no memory - of what's come before.

The implications of such a "what if?" scenario are, to put it mildly, provocative and troubling, yet intriguing to consider. But in doing so, you'd be amazed how it alters your view of the future - your own and your profession's.

Read on and see.

It's January 2, 2000. The first work day of the New Millennium. Our protagonist, a VP of communication - let's call him Jeremy - arrives at Do-Right, Inc., an educational toy company, Jeremy is terribly out of sorts.

For one thing, he's hung over after partying like there was no tomorrow, or yesterday, at a wild three-day "turn of the century" shindig. For another, his sixth sense tells him something's amiss, but he can't put his finger on what or why.

Before he can check his e-mail or peruse the Wall Street Journal, he's summoned to the CEO's office on a priority "red flag" matter. He takes off at a trot.

"Is it our computers, sir?" asks Jeremy, slightly winded. "Were the memories wiped out by the Y2K time bomb?"

"No, thank god," says the top dog, mouthing a "thank you" at the ceiling, "nothing like that. It's a different sort of problem needing your expertise."

The CEO explains in hurried terms that, according to media reports, Do-Right's latest whiz-bang product - an interactive talking book for children - has been alleged to contain sexually explicit subliminal messages. The two men state at each other, confounded. The CEO, eyes strained with worry, confides that his phone's been ringing off the hook since dawn ... board members, reporters, employees, institutional investors, the Consumer Product Safety Commission, a Catholic cardinal, even a PTA president.

"It's all a bunch of hooey," gulps the CEO, "but we have to deal with it anyway. Quash it right away, before it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, especially among our people - whose support we need to survive this mess!"

Jeremy gawks, his stomach queasy, eyes unfocused.

"Okay, Jeremy," continues the boss, "go prepare to do your thing. We'll talk in an hour." The top banana grabs the phone and turns away. Jeremy retreats to his office in a fog.

"My thing?" he blurts, dropping into a chair, a wave of panic overtaking him. Mysteriously, his brain draws a blank. He has no idea what his thing is. His "professional" memory has mysteriously been wiped clean as a whistle. Seems his brain suffered a Y2K crash.

"What's going on?" moans a befuddled Jeremy.

"Keep cool and think," advises his trusty inner voice, known to him as simply "IV." "For now," insists IV, "think of your thing as the...uh, 'X-Thing.'"

So think Jeremy does. Once the initial panic dissipates, he realizes that even though he can't remember anything about his thing, others might. "Better not ask too directly," warns IV, "or you'll leave here in a straight jacket." Jeremy decides to start with the XVP, usually an ally.

"What do you need from me?" Jeremy sounds uncertain, tentative.

The excitable Executive VP considers it a stupid question at a time like this. "You're asking me?" He bangs a fist on his desk. "Help us solve the damn problem...and pronto!"

Jeremy looks perplexed. Solving problems sounds big and extremely difficult. "Meaning what, exactly?" he probes sheepishly.

The aghast XVP shakes his head and snaps, "Meaning, Mr. Vice President, take what you know about the company, about business, about the marketplace, about our stakeholders, about what's worked before, and suggest a big picture strategy to pull us through this crisis - with our good name and reputation intact.

"What's needed is for us top managers to think outside the proverbial box - beyond what we've been trained to do as specialists and figure out what's best overall for Do-Right and all its people. From stockholders to employees to the communities in which we operate. Jeez, Jeremy, isn't this precisely the sort of thing you've been whining you're capable of handling but hadn't been given the chance to demonstrate? Well, here's your chance."

There's mention of my thing again, notes a thoroughly perplexed Jeremy, wondering if what was just described is the "X-Thing" in a nutshell, or whether there's more to it.

Next he barges in on the VP of Human Resources, a no-nonsense woman who at times sees the communication function as a competitor, not an ally. Jeremy asks her what's really needed of his department.

"Determine what people - the crucial constituencies, especially our employees, who take this kind of groundless slur to heart - are thinking, feeling and believing about this scurrilous lie," she counsels. "Then recommend what should be said, who should say it, how, when and where it should be said...and how each stakeholder group is likely to react."

"She's talking communication," whispers IV.

Jeremy nods blankly, then asks, "What if they don't like what's said or don't believe it?"

"Dumb question," cracks IV, never a conscience to suffer fools easily.

The HR guru flashes Jeremy a "did you just walk out of the jungle after 40 years?" look.

"You partied pretty hearty, eh Jeremy? Although you're the expert, seems to me you remind our friends they're friends and why, pointing out that real friends don't believe every rumor they hear. That if we tell them this subliminal message baloney is just that, then that's what it is. And even if they have doubts, friends give each other the benefit of any doubt until all facts are in. Put simply, buy us time by convincing folks to withhold judgment - not only because it's the right thing to do, but it's also in their best interests...for they, too, will one day need a friend. Capisce?"

His brows scrunch into a wiggly question mark. "She means negotiate," whispers IV.

Returning to his office, more bedeviled than ever, lying on his desk is an article titled "Reinventing the Profession" by somebody named Roger D'Aprix (pronunciation?). It doesn't ring any bells for Jeremy, yet scribbled on it is: "Call Roger...716-482-5241." His first thought is, why would I call a Frenchman? His second is, what profession?

Figuring he has little to lose, he dials the number and after three rings an affable voice says, "Roger D'Aprix."

"This is Jeremy - "

"Been hoping you'd call," Roger cuts him off, overjoyed. "What'd you think of the article? Give it to me straight, I can take it."

He seems to know me, Jeremy realizes, not knowing if that's good or bad, but determined to take advantage of it.

"Before that, Roger, tell me - in 20 words or less - what's the key to reinventing our profession?"

"Shrewd move," clucks IV.

"Since we live in revolutionary times, we too must change," says Roger in a professorial tone. "Exactly how we need to change, though, isn't totally clear, but change we must. The real challenge, I suppose, is finding - better yet, creating - meaning and clarity in the midst of great change. Demands lots of adapting, new thinking and imagination."

"Hmmmm...that true only for folks in our profession or others too?"

"Don't know about others, but for us so-called communicators, it certainly is."

Ah, so I'm a...a communicator, Jeremy deduces. Is that the X-Thing? he wonders. "Ask him," pushes IV, "but don't be too obvious."

"You said so-called communicator, Roger. What'd you mean?"

"Good question," notes Roger. "I used to say I was a communicator and it seemed right. Seemed enough. But now...well, I'm not sure. Change agent, maybe. Fixer. Facilitator. Human behaviorist. Relationship manager. You know the litany of the varied roles we play..." Jeremy shakes his head in exasperation, his confusion growing. "The term's too limited, maybe even misleading. Doesn't describe all we actually do, or try to do. We're more than just writers and information slingers. But what we ought to call ourselves, I couldn't tell you."

For a moment, Jeremy wonders...if you don't know what to call yourself, what does that say about us? "Think about it, dummy," demands IV. "Does everything have to be spelled out to make sense?"

"So what'd you think of the article?" Roger asks eagerly.

Again, Jeremy sidesteps. "Sounds pretty complicated. I'm wondering, how does somebody prepare to do this 'Jack-of-all-trades' job?"

Roger chuckles easily, as is his way. "Darn good question," he says seriously. "One thing's for sure - the way we educate and train communication professionals has to change dramatically. The traditional journalism and communication principles - writing and editing skills, primarily - aren't enough any more. We need to be business people first and foremost, and communication specialists second. And when I say communication, I don't just mean word smithing and twisting media arms...I mean experts in human and organizational behavior."

"Does he mean what you think he means?" prods IV.

"Are you saying communicators need MBAs to be effective?"

"Not necessarily, although it wouldn't hurt their credibility or knowledge base if they did. I'm saying they need to be more business savvy to be perceived as equals by the folks from marketing, finance, accounting, legal, operations, you name it. If they don't understand basic business concepts, like ROE (Return on Equity) and brand management for example, and can't speak proper 'business-ese,' they won't be taken seriously by those who count."

"So, what's the solution?"

"Merge communication and business education. Exactly how, I'll leave to the educators. But one academic friend argues vehemently for moving communication curricula out of journalism and communication schools and into B-schools as a first step. Others maintain communication majors should be required to minor in business. Some push making real-world business experiences, like internships, mandatory in all communication programs. How it should be done is open to debate, but that it needs to happen is not."

"Crafty guy," observes IV. "Knows a lot, including how not to stick his neck out too far." Jeremy spies his watch - time's running out. "Well, this has been an education, Roger."

"Jeremy, what about - "

"By the way, Roger, a damn fine article. Don't change a thing."

Jeremy is starting to catch on now. Who next? The VP of Finance is a tough woman who doesn't pull any punches. Off he goes. Before he's through the door, he spouts the $64,000 question, "What do you need from me?" Unhesitating, she locks on him and shouts, "Hold off the finicky financial press until the cavalry arrives!"

His blank stare prompts her to keep going.

"Look, it's pretty simple, really. If we lose our investors and analysts who bring us investors because they think we're sleazy and perverted, we lose our access to new capital. Not to mention our credibility on The Street - which, by the way, is everything in this business. Pool goes our product development and marketing budgets, along with our ability to compete. If the media jumps the gun before they understand what's really going on here and what it means to people depending on us, namely our stockholders, we're dead in the water. Explain it to them in terms they understand."

Me explain? Jeremy's brain is straining to recall, but he's drawing blanks. "Nod your head," IV orders.

"You're a businessman, Jeremy, right?" she poses rhetorically. "Look at this like any other business problem. Meaning...it's probably just a communication problem disguised as something else, wouldn't you think?"

Jeremy nods agreeably, although not sure why.

Plopping down at his desk, cluttered with file folders and autographed baseball paperweights, Jeremy pauses to reflect on what he's learned about the "X-thing." On a pad, he scribbles the "roles" others have said the organization needs him to play...

...business problem solver... ...reputation guardian... ...negotiator... ...change agent... ...relationship builder... ... writer/communicator... ...conflict resolver... ...advocate/persuader... ...business strategist...

By now, Jeremy is light-headed, his mind overloaded with out-of-context information. He starts to stand, but stumbles. Dizzy, he tilts over, slamming his head against the oak desk, tumbling to the floor. Righting himself, he touches the aching bump on his forehead, already swollen to tennis ball size.

Then, a funny feeling comes over him. Suddenly, inexplicably, his "communication" memory is back, like somebody just plugged in his brain.

He stands and eyeballs the list, a look of wonder entering his eyes. Astounded, he reads it again. "Wow," he croons, the implications clarifying, "my job sure ain't what it used to be."

"Here, here," jibes IV, bringing an enlightened beam to Jeremy.

Just then, the telephone rings. "Well, Jeremy," says the still-frazzled CEO, "you ready?"

"Never readier, boss," he replies excitedly. "Now that I know what the 'X-Thing' is," he mumbles under his breath.

How about you...are you ready?

What's the moral here? That's for you to determine. But think about it.

Perhaps it rests in John F. Kennedy's warning: "Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future." Heck, nobody wants to miss the future.

Maybe it's contained in Intel CEO Andy Grove's unequivocal dictum: "There are two options today: adapt or die." Not much of a choice there.

Or it might be found in humorist Will Rogers' sage observation: "Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." Always better to be a moving target.

Much truth in all three, no doubt. For our money, though, the moral is about separating ourselves from the past just enough - while never forgetting it - so we're not deterred from changing ourselves so we can "see" and embrace the future.

We prefer the heady words of Russia's Catherine the Great: "A great wind is blowing...and that gives you either imagination or a headache."

We'll take imagination every time.

J. David Pincus is former MBA director and communication professor in the college of business administration at the University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, currently working on a novel about changing organizational life. Fritz Cropp is assistant professor of advertising in the school of journalism at the University of Missouri-Columbia. Rumor has it they argue frequently with their IVs.

COPYRIGHT 1998 International Association of Business Communicators
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group