Alignment Around What You’re Really About
Sodexo loves food.
The culinary division of the food service giant wants you to know that. Well,
yes, they want
you
to know that, but they really want their customers and
potential customers to know that. And when they’re recruiting more chefs to
cook in their kitchens across the globe, from corporate offices to hospitals to
attractions and beyond, they want the chefs to know that Sodexo shares their
love and passion for food.
The problem, of course, is that just saying, “We have a passion for food” or
“We love food” isn’t enough. Sodexo wants people to feel their love. They want
to move people. They want to leave no question that, when it comes to food,
Sodexo is about more than what is on the profit and loss sheet. Sodexo loves
food.
How could they communicate this driving purpose?
You might have guessed it. By telling a purpose story.
The story came to us at a storytelling workshop in 2016 and was further
developed, scripted, and eventually turned into a short video by the talented team
at Seattle-based film company LittleFilms in 2017.
During the workshop, the one-hundred-person audience broke into smaller
groups, and each group was responsible for finding and creating a story that
could illustrate some of their most critical messages about what the culinary
excellence team is really about. One group was tasked with tackling the concept
of a love of food. After tossing around various ideas, one man, a chef, told a
story of his love of food.
As an eight-year-old boy in New Delhi, he remembered a house filled with
family—his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. So many people going different
directions. It was loud and chaotic and filled with joy. Each night they all sat
down at the table to eat. For that hour every night they shared their different
stories from the day, their different dishes, and their different dreams.
Looking back, he thought those experiences, those meals together with his
family, might be the reason he became a chef—but not for the reasons we might
think.
About the time he turned thirteen, everyone started to move away. The
mealtimes, the stories, everything changed. For years after that, he obsessed over
learning the recipes from those earlier days, those dishes he’d had as a young
boy at that dining table in New Delhi. But though he could recreate the food, it
never tasted the same.
It wasn’t until now that he understood why.
Because now, on the days when he takes a moment to look up from his work,
he sees a familiar sight: so many people going in so many different directions
but stopping to eat his food; chefs laughing, working, cooking; a loud and
chaotic scene filled with joy. Suddenly, he is back in New Delhi, back at the
table, having dinner with his family.
And then he realized why, after so many attempts, he hadn’t been able to
recreate the memories through recipes alone.
Because food is more than ingredients. The love of food comes from time
together. From people sharing stories and dreams. There was a time when he
thought being a chef was about creating food. Today, he knows being a chef is
about creating an experience, and that is what he gets to do every day at Sodexo.
When Raj, the chef, shared that story in front of the whole group at the
workshop, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place, including mine. And though the
mood the entire day had been positive and upbeat, there was a notable shift after
he shared—a deeper pride, a bigger meaning to what they were all there to do.
Yes, they all knew with their brains that Sodexo loves food. But it wasn’t
until hearing that chef’s story that they felt what that meant. And connected to it.
And were invigorated by it. After the workshop I received many compliments
and accolades from the people who were in the room, but I knew it was that
story and the others that were shared, not the six hours of content I delivered,
that made that workshop the fulfilling, purposed-filled event it ended up being.
A single purpose story has the ability to unite entire teams of people and
reconnect them to the deeper meaning of their work.
The Key to a Successful Purpose Story
When it comes to telling a successful purpose story, there is one thing that
matters more than anything else, more than the components, more than the
details you include. Purpose stories live and die on how well, how strongly the
story supports a specific message. The purpose story is dependent on, first, the
clarity of that message and, second, how clearly the story illustrates that
message.
In other words, all purpose stories start with this essential question: What
point do I want to make? Said another way: What do I want my audience to
think, feel, know, or do as a result of hearing this story?
The answer to that question is your North Star. It’s what will guide you when
you decide which story to develop. It’ll determine which pieces of a story you
keep and which pieces you cut because of time or relevance.
You remember the team at the Maricopa Medical Center in
chapter 2
, the ones
trying to raise funds for their foundation who relied on true, heartfelt stories to
drive donations. Well, before the giving began, before dinner was served, the
new CEO was tasked with delivering a speech. It was supposed to be a state of
the state address. But he was the new CEO of an organization dealing with a bit
of turmoil, and the speech had to be so much more than that. It had to be a
purpose story. It was his one chance, with the most important stakeholders in the
room, to communicate in a real, authentic, and moving way why they should all
continue to believe—to believe in him, yes, but more importantly the institution
as a whole.
The point he wanted to make? They should all be proud of what their
organization is and what it stands for: quality health-care for the otherwise
forgotten, compassion for the most vulnerable.
With that as our due north, we got to work, and with a little digging, we
found the perfect story to connect the attendees with their purpose. When the
night of the event and fund-raiser came around, instead of opening the evening
with statistics, the CEO told a story.
It was the story of one of his first events as the new CEO, a town hall
discussing the bond they were hoping would pass to provide desperately needed
funding. It took place in the multipurpose room of a community building, with
metal folding chairs assembled in rows and a table in the back set up with water
bottles and store-bought cookies. The CEO remembered watching people file in
and take their seats, and then, as a speaker welcomed those who had gathered
and the CEO prepared to take the stage, he noticed something out of the corner
of his eye. A man shuffling into the room.
It was clear, even from a distance, that this man lacked any resources.
Homeless perhaps. Whether he intended to be there for the meeting or just
happened to stumble across a crowd and wanted to check it out, the CEO wasn’t
sure. Either way, the man shuffled to the front of the room and stopped just shy
of where the speaker stood.
Now, anywhere else, in anyone else’s public forum, some staff would have
approached the disheveled man and escorted him to the door with whispers of
“This event isn’t really for you” while everyone else in the crowd shifted
uncomfortably in their seats, hoping the man would leave without causing a
scene.
But that was not so at this forum.
Yes, several people rose to their feet and quickly made their way to the man,
but not to shoo him away. One brought him a bottle of water. Another brought
him a metal folding chair so he could sit. And someone brought him a napkin
with several assorted cookies.
When the CEO got to this part of the story, he paused slightly to let the scene
sink in. The room of potential donors at the fund-raiser didn’t even let out a
breath. The CEO resumed his speech, mentioning a few recent accolades, briefly
including the kind of information the audience likely expected from a fund-
raiser’s opening address. But long before anyone could so much as clear their
throat, the CEO returned to the story of the disheveled man.
“I think back to that evening of the forum. I think about the man who had
been turned away by the rest of the world. But you—our people, our Maricopa
community—you gave him a few moments of dignity with something as simple
as a bottle of water and a handful of cookies. And it is in these moments you
leave your legacy. Thank you for a wonderful first year. I am humbled and proud
to be in your presence each day.”
That was it.
He stepped away from the podium to uproarious applause from an audience
who, I’m convinced, still wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened. The
emcee thanked him and then welcomed the audience to enjoy dinner and “the
special cookie that has been placed at each of your seats.”
With one story matched to a crystal-clear message, the new CEO united the
somewhat skeptical stakeholders, and the overall purpose prevailed.
A Word of Warning
All this being said, there is a flip side to purpose story success: there is very little
room for error when it comes to matching the message, the ultimate point you
want to make, with the story you end up telling.
By nature, the main character of a purpose story (as we’ll learn in the
components section of this chapter) is typically the leader who is telling the
story. Which is fine and exactly as it should be. But because this is indeed the
case, and because, by default, you are in some position of leadership in the
company to even be granted the opportunity to tell a purpose story (Are you
following this?), if you tell a story that doesn’t perfectly illustrate your message,
if you tell a story that leaves your listener wondering,
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