It’s been a little while since I’ve shared anything about Franny. Hands on my hips, I shake my head in awe and bewilderment and inquire of the universe, “Where do the days and months go!?”
Well, this time, I’ve – we’ve – been busy creating and showcasing our new brand! Can you believe it? Chomp, Cry, Walk Industries (TM).
Not so long ago, while I was caught up in a fog of mindless routine and The Sopranos reruns, I happened to read a book cover in the Business/Leadership section at my local bookstore. Me 2.0: Build a Powerful Brand to Achieve Career Success, it said, by Dan Schwabel.
That was it. Something snapped into place. Why didn’t I see it before? What was I doing expending valuable energy and self-esteem applying for jobs I wasn’t passionate about when the whole time I had the keys to career success and happiness right in front of me? I realized then that I can Succeed by telling other people what they need to do to Succeed!
My assets:
1. An adorable monster of a dog.
2. Interpersonal lessons/strategies gleaned from The School of Life & Ten-plus Years Retail Experience.
3. A basic grasp of metaphor.
I got straight to work. Now, I haven’t finished writing my own Business/Leadership book yet, but our seminars have been a huge hit. Here’s how they go down:
We start with a PowerPoint, pictures of Franny.
I’m onstage, she’s backstage. I’m wearing my wireless headset microphone, slacks, and a blazer over a Franny-themed custom baby-t I made at the Rite Aid. I got some glasses frames too, which are the linchpin of the credible/casual look. Also Chuck Taylors.
So the PowerPoint slide show dissolves one super-cute picture of Franny after another over a Cold Play cover of “I Got You Babe,” as I tell Franny’s story (The first bullet point on the printed program is: Franny’s Story). All about how she came out of the woods, emaciated and tick-riddled. How we drove home together from the Hardy’s parking lot, and I watched her in the rear-view mirror pace across the back seat of my car and said her new name out loud for the first time. How slowly we learned to read and trust each other.
We build to this big emotional crescendo and I say to the audience, “Guys, do you love this dog or what?”
And the crowd nods and chuckles and cheers that they love this dog.
I say, “Franny is here right now. Backstage. Do you want to meet her?”
Participants cheer and clap and I ask again, “Do you guys want to meet Franny? Should I bring her out?” And they clap and cheer some more and I ask for a volunteer to come up on stage.
I swear to god, 80% of the time the volunteer is named Susan and she is a sweetheart and a dog-lover.
Susan climbs onstage and everyone is still clapping and I whistle for Franny. Franny breaks out onto the stage and looks so excited and happy and Susan bends down to pet her then BOOM, nip to the face!
After the collective gasp, you can hear a pin drop, it gets so quiet. I scoot Franny back to her holding area.
“Guys, do you know how Susan feels right now?” I put my arm around Susan. “I know how she feels. She’s hurt. She’s shocked. She’s questioning all her assumptions and loyalties. Susan,” I turn and address Susan directly, “do you know what you need to do right now? The most important thing you need to do? You need to ride that wave of adrenaline surging through your body and keep walking. Let’s give Susan a big round of applause. Thank you, Susan.”
The next bullet point on the paper handout is Keep Walking.
“How many times -- in the office, at home, at church -- how many times have you been Bitten By Your Own Dog?” I nod and say it again slower, “Bitten. By. Your. Own. Dog. You know what I’m talking about. Think about it.” And I give them time to think about it and gradually, one by one, the audience starts to nod too.
“It hurts. It hurts a lot. I’m not talking about the physical pain here. Bruises fade. Puncture wounds scab over – don’t worry Susan. But what about the puncture wounds in our hearts? What about those? Those are different. Guys, I know. And I also know we have to keep walking. We have to keep moving forward.”
Then I tell the Parable of the Walk. To summarize, Franny bites me while we’re on a walk because we dumb-lucked into another dog walking and the only way to Change the Scenery was to walk/limp faster up the street.
Anyway, including a few more parables, the seminar goes on about an hour and a half – two if we break up into small groups for role-plays – and everyone is encouraged to stay after for Treats.
We cover a lot of emotional ground and I gotta say, we are hitting a nerve.
