The Age of Meaningful Work

We have entered The Age of Meaningful Work.

This workforce will no longer be forced to leave those they love to work with people they hate. The pandemic did more than spread a virus; it spread a resolve—a resolve to do something that matters.

A resolve to move daily toward purpose, toward meaning. Greater than doubling our salary, more significant than an employee cafeteria, is our new way of looking at our limited time on earth, and the power we have to breathe life into something that breathes after our last. Work is no longer work; work is legacy.

How does this influence storytelling?

The stories we tell today must no longer promote our personal competence, price, or quality of design. That strategy burned in the ashes of 2020. Do not use it.

The question now is; how competent are you at speaking directly to the heart of consumers with words that acknowledge their life, their concerns, and their ambitions?

Storytelling today must be painfully selfless.

It is painful because no one goes through years of education, decades of experience, and industry accolades to then never talk about any of it. But that is exactly what you must do.

The best ad campaigns of the future will ignore the company whose campaign it is. Successful corporations of tomorrow will be a platform, a pass-through the public uses to experience true meaning.

A couple of days back, I walked into a sporting goods store looking for a baseball glove. At 51, I've decided to try my hand at an adult baseball league here in Atlanta. Will I be good or terrible? No idea. All I know is, my dream of playing has never fallen asleep.

I tried on glove after glove for about an hour, and then I found it. I found the one that felt like an extension of my hand. I couldn't tell you the brand, where it was made, or if the material was cheap or not. All I know is, it fits me perfectly.

The price was irrelevant. I was buying the glove no matter what. Why? The glove serves me more than my patronage serves the company. The glove acknowledged my dream.

The glove made me feel like maybe, just maybe, my desire to learn the game wasn't all lost. The glove was an outside symbol of an inside thirst.

Tell your story like a glove. Make it fit.

Design your story to embrace the frustrated heart of your consumer. Mute those declarative headlines about all you can do, and at what price you can do it. Just be a quality glove, and millions with unmet ambitions will line up outside your store to see if maybe, just maybe, their dreams can come true.