54% of statistics are made up

“There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics.” This quotation, usually credited to British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, came to mind today when I saw a clip of Arizona Sen. Jon Kyle on “The Daily Show.”

Speaking on the Senate Floor during the recent budget debate, Kyle noted that “well over 90 percent” of Planned Parenthood’s activities are abortion-related. The real number, it turns out, is closer to 3 percent. But, as we used to say in the Air Force, “close enough for government work.”

Kyle’s office later said that he hadn’t meant to imply that the 90 percent number he tossed out was a “fact.” It was merely a way to get his point across. Don’t confuse him with facts, I guess, because his mind is made up. Hyperbole is fine with me, as long as we’re in on the joke.

That was certainly true back in the 60s when legendary comedian, broadcaster and adman Stan Freberg posited that nine out of 10 doctors preferred Chun King Chow Mein, before showing us nine smiling Asians and one frowning Caucasian in lab coats. No reasonable person would have expected that Freberg had actually conducted a poll of doctors.

Statistics are powerful tools for writers, of course. Like good cooks, good writers know how to use data to spice up their writing without overdoing it. A few statistics used as proof points validate and support the ideas writers – or their clients – are trying to get across.

Communicators can also use statistics to talk about their work using the first language of their bosses and clients, many of whom live in a world of data. They expect communicators to be able to measure and quantify the results of their efforts, just like any other discipline.

I remember attending a conference about 15 years ago at which a communicator from a peer company presented on his internal communications measurement process, initiated to appease a data-crazy business unit president.

The communicator had done a great job of soliciting feedback from employees through various means and showed a couple of charts comparing his company’s data to “best-in-class” performance. During the Q&A I asked him where the best-in-class numbers came from, expecting him to cite some global survey or other credible benchmark. But, without shame or reservation, he admitted he had made them up.

At least he was honest.

Take my words, please

As someone who spends a lot of his time putting words in other people’s mouths, I like it when my clients care enough to own what I have written for them. Whether the project is a speech, article, op-ed or letter, it’s most satisfying to collaborate with the person for whom I’m ghostwriting and to go back and forth a few times until they are comfortable with the content.

After all, they – not I – will speak the words, get the byline or sign the letter. When it comes to ghostwriting, anonymity suits me.

I remember once – once – trying to get my props by letting a colleague know that I had actually written the joke the company president told at the awards banquet the night before; the very joke the colleague was now retelling to great acclaim. Narcissus was punished for his vanity and so was I. That colleague gave me plenty of opportunity to reflect on the value of staying anonymous by teasing me mercilessly about my presumed ability to control what came out of the president’s mouth.

I found myself thinking about the importance of speakers owning their words recently when India’s foreign minister delivered three minutes of someone else’s speech at an important conference. He did not realize his mistake and presumably would have gone on longer, but an aide stopped him and suggested he start over, this time reading his own script.

Talk about not owning his words – this guy didn’t even recognize them. Certainly he had not rehearsed thoroughly before taking the stage and it is possible that he hadn’t even reviewed the speech someone else had written for him. Seems to me this should be the minimum standard.

That reminds me of two of my favorite anecdotes about ghostwritten materials, both from the world of sports. Upon being asked whether his original autobiography was the first book he had ever written, Pete Rose supposedly remarked that it was in fact the first book he had ever read. I bet he was telling the truth.

Charles Barkley claimed he was misquoted in his 1992 autobiography “Outrageous,” later admitting the “misquotes” were his own fault. “I should have read it first,” he said. This is not turrible advice.

2011 Resolution: Lose some word weight on a daily basis

"I didn’t have time to write a short letter so I’ve written a long one instead." Often credited to a Sam – Johnson or Clemons – this quote speaks to the fact that careful writers struggle to keep their writing lean and crisp. It’s worth the effort.

There’s no substitute for the declarative sentence that is simple, clear and concise, trimmed of words that don’t add value. You don’t have to take my word for it.

Here’s what Strunk and White’s venerable “Elements of Style” has to say:

"Omit needless words. Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all his sentences short, or that he avoid all detail and treat his subjects only in outline, but that every word tell."

S&W’s essential guide goes on to list some examples of bloated phrases that can be easily replaced by lean ones. But they miss my least favorite, which I hear on a daily basis, and which grates on my ear every time.

“On a daily basis. On a weekly basis. On an hourly basis. On a whatever basis.” When daily or every day, weekly, hourly or whatever-ly” work much better.

Save a few words – and my eardrums – by banishing this waste of words from your vocabulary in 2011.

Can we talk... about arrogance & insecurity?

It was hard not to execute an eye-roll worthy of an exasperated preteen as a senior executive from a client company prepared to describe his corporation’s “personality.”

I immediately flashed back to the look on a former, brilliant, and brilliantly cynical boss’ face when a branding consultant from corporate headquarters asked, “If this company were an animal, what animal would it be?” I don’t recall his answer. I do recall that the consultant was quickly nicknamed Barbara Walters.

But just then the client did something quite unexpected. He made sense.

“This company is both arrogant and insecure,” he said. “We’re absolutely convinced that we can hit a home run every time. But we’re deathly afraid to step up to the plate.”

I knew the company very well; well enough to know that he was spot on.

I thought of this conversation last night as I watched the 2010 documentary “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.” Despite all her success as a standup comedian, actress and writer – not to mention her trailblazing place in comedy and talk show history – it’s clear that Rivers gets no respect (with apologies to Rodney Dangerfield). Certainly no respect from herself.

Today, in fact, Rivers believes she is a living, breathing punch line for other comics, by virtue of her advancing age and love of plastic surgery. She’s right.

Just as in her act, Rivers holds little back in this documentary. What comes across is a person who is both (pause) both extremely arrogant and extremely insecure. She’s jealous of the success of others less talented than she perceives herself to be, fearful of those she views as cleverer and quick to put down perceived rivals and critics with the basest of insults. Her biggest boogieman is the empty calendar page, which she sees as proof positive that she us unwanted, underappreciated and unloved. She plays crappy clubs and tiny rooms in remote casinos, and hates herself for it.

I confess that I’m not the world’s biggest Joan Rivers fan. I saw her in Vegas sometime in the Eighties during one of her many hot periods, but found her too mean-spirited for my taste. Her opening act was an unknown named Garry Shandling, who I found to be much, much funnier. Rivers’ abrasiveness prevents me from empathizing too much with Rivers and her inner struggle.

Anyway, today I’m thinking about myself (surprise!) and specifically about whether there are times that my own arrogance or insecurity get in the way of my success.

New Year's Usage Resolution (Part 1)

All of us who shove words together for a living have our least favorite words, phrases or devices – things we try to avoid in our own writing and annoy us in the writing of others.

Crap. I used the editorial we. I hate the editorial we! At best its use is dishonest, implying that the writer speaks for many others when he is usually sitting alone at his keyboard in his pajamas.

That is, of course, unless he meets one of the criterion listed by Roscoe Conkling, a post-Civil War U.S. Senator, who said that “There are three classes of people who use ‘we’ instead of ‘I.’ They are emperors, editors and men with tapeworms.”

To the best of my knowledge, I am none of the above and therefore resolve to remain “we-free” in 2011.

This probably disqualifies me for a job on NPR, but like Juan Williams, I’m sometimes guilty of making snap judgments about people based on their clothing. Take Yankees fans. Please.

Sometimes it’s hard not to jump to conclusions about a franchise’s supporters. Of course, not all pinstripe-wearing Yankees fans are obnoxious. Probably.

But fans of extremely successful sports teams – like the Yankees – seem to have this in common: If their team beats your team they rub it in; if your team beats their team they say it doesn’t matter because they have 1,500 championship rings.

When I first became interested in baseball, back in the early 1960s, the Senators had just moved to Minnesota and become the Twins. Like most of the kids in my hometown, I was immediately hooked on baseball and the new franchise. Root, root, rooting for the home team wasn’t just a matter of loyalty, in my opinion, it was a sacrament.

Then I met Bud Sterling. Bud was a Yankees fan. A traitor to the hometown boys and those nice Cuban players Calvin Griffith signed. Bud wasn’t a transplant from the East Coast or anything like that, he just liked the Yankees because they had a lineup of powerhouse stars and a whole bunch of pennants and World Series rings.

I liked some of the Yankees’ players well enough. I went to grade school with Roger Maris’ niece, which was a pretty close brush with fame for that time and place. I admired Mickey Mantle’s skills and well-remember the time I saw him hit two towering home runs during a July 4 doubleheader at the old Metropolitan Stadium. I remember it so well, in fact, that I wonder if it actually happened.

I like some of the Yankees players today, too. It’s hard not to like Derek Jeter and I respect the skills of Mariano Rivera, Robinson Cano and several of the other guys on the team. I’d like them better if they played for the Twins or Diamondbacks, of course. After all, as Jerry Seinfeld observed, being an American sports fan actually means you’re rooting for that team’s clothes.

I sometimes make exceptions for the Yankees, the Lakers and a couple of the Vikings’ football rivals, but in general I prefer to root for my teams rather than against someone else’s. Sometimes, though, the distinction isn’t that clear. At a Diamondbacks-Yankees game a couple of years ago my son and I sat a few rows in front of woman who obviously had consumed a few frosty beverages. Every time the Yankees captain came to the plate, made a play or had the audacity to appear on the field she loudly yelled, “Jeter sucks ass!” at the top of her lungs. This went on for a number of innings before she finally yelled out, “Hey … why am I the only one cheering for the Diamondbacks?”

Yup … sometimes it’s a pretty fine line.

When bosses go undercover

I normally avoid reality shows like the Jersey Shore kids shun li-baries. But I admit to being hooked on “Undercover Boss,” which airs Sunday evenings on CBS.

You probably know the formula, which hasn’t varied a bit in the four episodes I’ve watched.

· The CEOs go undercover for a few days, posing as new employees of their company. The producers choose consumer-oriented companies (hotel, restaurant, retail store) with multiple locations and lots of lower-wage employees who interact with customers.

· The bosses assume the wardrobe and the role of regular employees working regular shifts, facing tasks as varied as frying donuts and cleaning up feces. “Never mind the cameras,” coworkers are told. We’re shooting a documentary on people changing careers.”

· The bosses invariable find most of their employees to be true working-class heroes, but note shortcomings in company policies, procedures and the operations themselves.

· They return to the boardroom with a list of action items for their staffs.

· Finally they reveal their true identities and change everyone’s lives.

The concept is sappy and contrived for sure. After all my years in corporate communications, I can imagine the jockeying that goes on behind the scenes to make sure the right locations, programs and employees are featured – “right” being defined as those that will make an interesting story while painting the company in a very positive light.

I chuckle each week when, without exception, one of the frontline employees does or says something that causes the producers to cut away to the image of a disgusted and disguised CEO who can’t believe what he or she just heard. Somebody on the boss’ staff is also going to hear about this. And it just might be the communications guy.

For example, on a recent episode the likeable president and CEO of Choice Hotels was working with a friendly and capable front desk clerk at one of the chain’s properties. She mentioned that she loved the hospitality industry and wanted to eventually become a hotel manager.

“Does Choice offer any training?” the undercover boss asked, knowing the answer. “Nope,” the woman replied. Cut away to horrified CEO. “I’m putting millions of dollars into Choice University,” he railed seconds later in an aside to the camera, “and her leaders haven’t told her a thing about it!”

I wonder if that’s true, but it doesn’t really matter. It's enough that the boss believes it to be true, because he heard it with his own ears. I also wonder how long it was before the communicator issued a reminder on the wonders of Choice University to all employees.

It’s a fact that even the smartest of bosses often react or perhaps overreact to the most recent input they receive, no matter how isolated, opinionated or invalid that input may be. It’s human nature and a fact of life for communicators who often find that – for some bosses – well-thought-out communications strategies, feedback mechanisms and measurement tools are not nearly as credible as chance encounters in the hall.