Those words haunted me recently at a radio station. While they were spoken by a program director about the general manager those words could have once been spoken about me.
We only know what we know. Until the moment we say that we’re ready to learn, we’re stuck… with only the things in the rear view mirror as a reference.
“Everything I know I learned from someone else.”
Simply stated, strategy is about the big idea; why do we exist? What do we stand for? What difference are we making?
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”
I’ve heard it said that there are no straight lines in nature. Every shoreline curves and winds. Every path is jagged and bumpy. Every landscape has heights and depths.
Over the years I’ve learned that radio stations go through seasons. Often we have the illusion of stability until we’re jolted by change.
Her name was Jane. She was the first girl I ever asked out on a date. She said no.
I convinced myself that it was because of the big zit on my forehead. Or that I wasn’t on the football team. I found out later it was because she and her family went out of town.
We think we’re pretty important, don’t we?
We think our station fans’ (P1s) behavior is a direct result of our programming tactics. I’ve heard otherwise reasonable people exclaim that ratings went up because of the new jingles, ratings went down because we didn’t hit the spot breaks within the bow tie, or question our ratings because we didn’t have a specific number of songs on our playlist.
“What product category are you in? It’s bigger than you think.”
We would all be flying Wells Fargo Airlines if they had thought they were in transportation instead of the stage coach business. Same could be said of many once great companies like Polaroid and Blockbuster.
All too often I find radio stations that see themselves as being in the Christian radio business. Even the good stations often default to being about Christian music for Christian music fans.
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“Off air,” the TV schedule indicated. “No programming scheduled at this time” the box on the lower left read. It was 7:30pm. Prime time I think they call it.
I recently attended a major league baseball game where the concession stands on the third base side were all closed. If you wanted to give them your money there was no one there to take it, presumably the very reason they were there in the first place.
It’s a question we don’t ask enough. Why do people tune in? What expectations do they have? What need are we meeting?
Or as my friend Mark Ramsey likes to ask, “What are people hiring you for?”
If you don’t know, ask them. If you think it’s not important enough to research at least put your ear to the ground and listen for the rumblings. It’s likely that you’ll hear some reoccurring themes.
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“I can’t break 100 anymore,” I confessed to a golf professional that sees dozens of my like very day. “That means,” he responded immediately, “that you’re not striking the ball solidly.” This guy hadn’t even seen me swing the club and he already diagnosed my problem.
That’s called experience. He’s seen it before. He knows what causes it. He knows how to fix it.
They are some of the brightest broadcasters I work with. Each a hard worker and devoted to the station’s mission. Not a rotten egg among ’em.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. Frankly, it was one of the best I’ve ever had. Big idea! Game changing idea. I tossed it out there.
The room was quiet. No one even risked looking up from their paperwork. Then one brave soul broke the awkward silence by saying, “We’re too busy to do anything that big.” Heads nodded in agreement.
They were too busy to be great.
Hasn’t it been a fascinating thing to watch? The news coverage. The politicians, the celebrities, the average America Joe sharing what Billy Graham meant to them. In a media world of bickering and partisan politics, we’ve hit hit the pause button to reflect on a man whose life transcended those things.
His daughter, Ruth Bell Graham, said, “Everybody has a Billy Graham story.”
I know I do. It was at a Billy Graham crusade in Irving, Texas, that 14-year-old John Frost publicly dedicated his life to Christ. It was decades later than I would learn that was the very first event at Texas Stadium. I learned that from his grandson, Tullian Tchividjian, who had become my pastor.
His message was simple.
When you listen to your station what do you hear?
Do you hear one song, then another, then another interspersed with talk? Or do you hear music and friendly conversation that can be life changing?
Do you hear the same songs over and over and over? Or do you hear stories that inspire and help tune out the negative noise?
A better question might be, “what do you choose to hear?”