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These kinds of games are designed to be hard to win and easy to lose, but we like to play them anyway. (Image by kerplode)
“Oh, so sad,” I said to my little nephew. “I guess you just don’t know how to brush your teeth.”
It was a risk, but it paid off. He got that steely-eyed look in his eye and proceeded to brush his teeth and put his pajamas on.
He did need a little help — he doesn’t actually know how to brush his teeth on his own — but he was determined.
And now, when I’m around at bedtime, he says, “I want you to say, ‘You can’t put on your pajamas.’” Then it’s my job to be amazed and thrilled when he is able to do it.
It’s a funny thing to be able to manipulate another human being so easily and transparently. It was a game the whole time, and he knew it — yet it still worked.
Some aspects of teaching are this way, and marketing is very much this way. And I have mixed feelings about that.
I am comfortable with the idea of challenging someone to make a decision — adding tension to nudge them into action.
I am okay with making things a bit more intriguing than strictly necessary in order to pique the curiosity of a reader, viewer, or student.
However, it feels a little weird to use blatantly manipulative tactics on grown adults — to throw out the equivalent of “I don’t think you can eat the rest of that chicken on your plate” and expect them to fall for it. Where is the line? When do my efforts become not just clever, but unethical?
Here’s how I think of it: I am willing to venture into this territory if I’m inviting people to be co-conspirators. I’m seeking to take them on a journey they are eager to go on, the way a novelist lures us into a fantasy world that we are willing to accept as real. When the writer does that, she’s not trying to put one over on us. She’s not trying to outwit us. She’s collaborating with us, just as my nephew and I are collaborating in a bit of theater.
Hannah Gadsby highlights this approach brilliantly in her Netflix special, Douglas. She lays out exactly what the structure of the performance will be, even telling the audience how they’ll react to various elements of the show. Then, she skillfully executes the plan exactly as described.
We humans like formulas. And when you tell us that you have The Top Five Unexpected Ways Solve Our Biggest Problem, we’ll likely bite. But it feels gross when we’re being played without our conscious buy-in, enticed to click through by a conniving marketer appealing to the basest manifestation of our innate need to find out how the story ends.
And there is no happy ending to the story in which we’re provoked to aggression by some shadowy entity that is expertly stoking the fires of our outrage. It’s no wonder that we are wary of being sold to and skeptical of anyone selling to us, even if they’re just selling an idea.
Even though there are people out there using marketing in icky ways, I still want to find a way to make it work for myself. I’d like to improve at creating art and marketing materials that are better able to attract and hold the attention of the people I want to connect with. And I’m always seeking ways to help the people I teach and coach to move toward their goals with more ease and confidence.
As I gain more insight into how to do this, I will continue to come up against the necessity of applying what I learn in a generous, respectful way. It’s not enough for it to be “for their own good.”
Many of the teachers and leaders I admire, from Annie Sullivan to Mary Poppins, are very clever and, when necessary, cunning. What better lullaby for children who are adamant that they aren’t sleepy than “Stay Awake”?
But perhaps it’s telling that I most aspire to be like Fred Rogers, who had no tricks whatsoever up his sleeve. Any adult watching his show would quickly grow bored with his predictability and the complete lack of conflict in his storytelling. On the other hand, there is no more generous and respectful model of how to speak to children — or really, to anyone.
Of course, even Mr. Rogers takes us on a trolley into the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. Pretending isn’t deceit — it’s play. Play is consensual and reciprocal, and even if it’s going to be sneaky, it’s up front about it.
I do want to be intrigued. I want to be delighted, surprised, challenged, nudged out of my comfort zone. I bet the people I seek to serve do, too. But I’m not going to try to get them to do what I want. Maybe, I’ll try to get them to do what they want — but not behind their backs. It’s more fun when we’re in on the trick together.
