During this COVID-19 era, any trip through the commercial corridors of Oak Park, Illinois—my community along the western border of Chicago—has revealed its potential as a post-apocalyptic movie set.
But here in my town—and wherever you are, within your community—there is a simple mathematical principle that empowers us to revise the script: shop locally, as much and as often as possible.
In explaining the multiplier effect of local independent businesses, the American Independent Business Alliance states, “The multiplier results from the fact that independent locally-owned businesses recirculate a far greater percentage of revenue locally compared to absentee-owned businesses (or locally-owned franchises). In other words, going local creates more local wealth and jobs.”
In Oak Park, partly
to blame for our ghost-town vibe is extensive road and infrastructure work
coursing right through the heart of the community. Given the current state of business
distress, with little traffic anyhow, our village leaders have wisely
accelerated those efforts. That full-speed-ahead approach, sort of like quickly
ripping off a bandage to hasten the pain, is about the only lemonade to come
out of this historically humongous lemon.
preserve physical health through the COVID era have had major side-effects, not
the least of which is a business community with numerous members who find
themselves on mercantile life support. It is a condition that prevails across
the entire country. Solving the United States’ problems is well beyond any one local
group’s capacity to remedy. However, any community grappling on the commercial
home front can take steps to minimize the damage in their own backyard, and then
turn the tide.
For those in and around Oak Park, not every dollar can be expended within our few square miles. However, making a conscious decision to allocate a few more pennies per dollar can make a meaningful difference, especially when considering the multiplier effect. A decade ago, that philosophy was at the heart of my role for two years as marketing coordinator of “Shop the Village.”
A coordinated initiative supported by the Village of Oak Park, Downtown Oak Park and other business districts, Shop the Village was a marketing arm for dozens of businesses partaking in the campaign the first year (spanning three months before and after the year-end holidays). The next year, 2009, building on lessons gleaned from that first year, we engaged a “Super Shopper Spotter” campaign. It featured a super-hero character played by yours truly.
This is not a proposal to bring back that Caped Crusader of Commerce. You do not need to put on big red boots or have campy humor to recognize that shopping locally is a practical, powerful way for us all to serve our own best interests. It is through our daily choices that we each have a super-simple, super-heroic role to play.
How do you respond when someone is unaccountable or otherwise fails to meet expectations?
Many years ago, a mentor offered me wise words on how to handle these situations. His counsel went something like this:
“If you want to yell at them, or give them a piece of your mind, or tell them how they failed in some way, then be prepared to get in a very long line—because that’s the typical reaction. When they mess up, that’s what they are hearing from everybody else. Instead, be the person who stands apart by responding differently—assume the best in them, and that they want to do better, but circumstances came up that prevented them from doing so.”
In short, the better response is to give the other party an expectation that they want to live up to. Implicit in this process is keeping your eye on the prize—what goal do you have in mind? What do you want to happen as a result of your communication?
To be sure, “getting something off your chest” in anger and frustration, while “natural,” does not constitute a worthy goal. Those outbursts are merely unhinged, undisciplined reactions unlikely to move you productively toward a worthwhile goal.
Instead, as my mentor pointed out, be part of a very short line as you demonstrate respect for and patience with the person who doesn’t seem to “deserve” those things.
This approach has application in every area of life. In the media relations sphere, it could come in the form of how you respond when a client is subjected to unfair, biased coverage. Being a strong advocate for your client and practicing restraint are not mutually exclusive.
Case in point: not long ago, a media outlet (which shall remain nameless, in the spirit of this entire post) produced a blatantly slanted story about a client. Unfairness, bias and lack of professionalism oozed through the entirety of the article, which was topped by a headline that exposed the outlet was more propaganda tool than legitimate news source. (Sadly, that is not a rarity in our free-for-all, media-splintered world where partisan views drive so much of what’s covered as well as what is not covered.
I reached out to the editor (who also wrote the story) and rather than travel the “You biased, unprofessional hack!” route, I respectfully and firmly issued a challenge containing a few key points:
From your headline’s word choices to your omission of any input from my client, you are revealing your bias.
Your audience and the community deserve better
You can do better.
We respectfully request that you update your coverage to include our input.
On the one hand, the editor deflected my corrections by pointing out, somewhat lamely, that my client wasn’t the focus of the story. (If not, then the client was a very close second place–and since when does that justify blatant and unfair bias?) But, then, to the editor’s credit, came implicit acknowledgment of the story’s skewed treatment. The editor promised to add, in an updated version, input from my client that I had provided.
That insertion came within hours, offering at least a semblance of balance to the story. Looking ahead, an even more important development had occurred: the publication has now been challenged to meet a much higher expectation for fairness and balance than they had previously exhibited. And, of course, that was my goal from the get-go.
When it comes to mindless journalistic blunders, there are brain cramps and then there are lobotomies.
Example of a brain cramp: the time in the late-1990s when, as a newspaper reporter, I referred to a high school student as “Dustin Hoffman.” He shared a first name with the famous actor, but not the last name, and my mind drifted into auto-celebrity actor mode as I tapped out my story.
teen’s last name? I don’t remember, but I do recall his parents being peeved
that I had interviewed the 17-year-old without their consent. (The story was
about a teacher who had been accused of sexually assaulting another student
during an overseas trip.)
To make my mistaken-attribution saga even stranger, those same parents’ upset was assuaged by what they saw as my intentional decision to shield his identity by concocting a false (and famous) last name. Apparently, they thought I was exercising some journalistic ethic in doing so. Nope, it was just a mindless blunder, of the brain-cramp variety.
Which brings me to that other type of journalistic blunder: the lobotomy.
A literal lobotomy, for those who are not familiar, is a brutal, discredited form of psychosurgery, “a neurosurgical treatment of a mental disorder that involves severing connections in the brain’s prefrontal cortex.” In layman’s terms, patients may be relieved of mental disorders, but there is a great risk that they will be left as docile, almost-vegetative souls.
A figurative lobotomy played out just last night, through a dialogue between MSNBC’s Brian Williams and Mara Gay, a New York Times editorial board member. The two astonishingly, staggeringly, mind-blowingly treated as truth a Twitter post that mangled math beyond measure—or, at least, by a roughly 650,000-to-1 ratio.
Here was the Tweet by freelance journalist Mekita Rivas:
In response, Williams declared, ““When I read it tonight on social media, it kind of all became clear…It’s an incredible way of putting it.”
Incredible, indeed–as in “not to be believed.” His use of the word didn’t raise any red flags, however, as Gay echoed the word and chimed in: “It’s an incredible way of putting it. It’s true. It’s disturbing. It does suggest what we’re talking about here: there is too much money in politics.”
To quote the first words of New York Post’s Steven Nelson’s account of the debacle: They’re a couple of on-the-airheads!
My bit of cleverness: MSNBC could stand for May Share Numbers Before Consideration.
The blame goes beyond Williams and Gay. It was not only their slip-up, but that of the entire crew, including producers and graphic design team. None of ’em recognized the abject absurdity of the tweet. (The actual amount would be about $1.53, or $999,998.47 less than was stated.)
As you may suspect, it wasn’t long before the cascade of corrections in the Twittersphere set the network straight and the instigator of the math mess deleted it, then updated her profile to state “I know, I’m bad at math.” Later, Williams’ show released this statement:
“Tonight on the air we quoted a tweet that relied on bad math. We corrected the error after the next commercial break and have removed it from later editions of tonight’s program. We apologize for the error.”
Mistakes happen, including math mistakes. But what was initially an innocent mishap by a single math-challenged individual should not have come anywhere close to being amplified by a major network like MSNBC. Theirs was a blunder of epic proportions, on an alarming level that rightfully would cause anyone to question the network’s judgment, discernment and intelligence on other stories.
The embarrassing episode underscores why there is such a desperate need for improved numeracy, or math literacy, for citizens. And it takes on exponential urgency when it comes to those stewards of story-telling in the journalism realm.
That is why I developed “Go Figure: Making Numbers Count” nearly 20 years ago, with journalists as my primary audience for the first decade thereafter. Traveling throughout the United States to spread the Go Figure Gospel, I have felt a strong sense of public service with every math-challenged reporter, editor or other media professional I have trained. These are often folks who thought they were getting away from math when they got into journalism–only to realize that numbers are inextricably linked with just about any kind of story-telling.
In recent years, I have expanded the program to a diverse array of audiences, including the general public. In fact, around the same time Williams and Gay were fumbling through this epic math gaffe last night, I was at the Itasca Community Library leading a numeracy workshop. With a focus on the 2020 Election cycle, the program was called “Lies & More Lies, How it All Adds Up.”
Among the topics that I covered: the one-to-1,000 ratio between one thousand and one million (1,000 thousands) and the same one-to-1,000 relationship between one million and one billion (1,000 millions). For example—and it is one that I have used for over 20 years in my myriad writings on numeracy—one million seconds is a shade over 11 ½ days and one billion seconds is nearly 32 years.
Fittingly, I referred to the Mike Bloomberg
campaign spending in the “Golympics” quiz that is a key feature of my session. Here’s
Michael Bloomberg spent over $500 million in a three-month span before dropping out of the race on March 4th, the day after Super Tuesday. What proportion of his net worth does that amount to?
Less than 1%
The answer is “b,” or less than 1 percent, because Bloomberg’s net worth is over $50 billion. You may want to look it up to be sure, but trust me, you can take that stat to the bank.
Want to learn more about my numeracy programs, including the Election 2020-themed “Lies, Damn Lies & Navigating the Presidential Campaign Trail” sessions, with over a dozen scheduled in the Chicago area through October? Visit www.GoFigureMakingNumbersCount.com.
my journalism career, I wrote or edited hundreds of obituaries. Most were
everyday people who were not in the headlines much, if at all, over their
decades of life. Some were notable individuals, and I would draw upon prior
stories to flesh out this news of their passing.
someone was renowned or a household name only in their own household, the
bottom line for me was the same: this was a major responsibility that I took
extremely seriously. Certainly, I strove to be conscientious in all aspects of
my job, whether it was covering criminal courts, reporting on city hall, or
featuring the folksy neighbor down the block.
obits are a breed apart, and the reason is simple: barring a few exceptional
cases, this is the last comprehensive story that will be written about the
person. To honor their life, and those who loved them, it is essential to get
the details right, and to do it well, and you only get one crack at it.
That passion for telling something so precious and unique as a person’s life story is at the heart of “Your Front Page,” a writing service that I launched in 2005.
YFP clients have typically been the spouse or children of a person about to
reach a milestone—60 years of marriage or 80 years of life, for example. The
end product, a two-page custom publication that includes headlines, sidebars
and photographs, is a surprise gift. Unsurprisingly, and to my humbled delight,
it becomes a gift that keeps giving: multiple clients have told me how much
they appreciate having the piece to share, years later, at wakes and other
services after their loved one passed away.
This affirms my instinct, years ago, to begin using the term “nobituaries” to describe “Your Front Page” pieces—these stories were like an obituary, only the individual or couple being featured was still alive. Thus: “no obituary,” or “nobituary.”
As for actual obituaries, they are a recurring part of what I call my occasional “random acts of journalism.” Eight years ago was one of those times when I wrote the obituary of my dear friends’ father, Don Carlson. A few weeks ago came another opportunity, when I had the honor of writing about his widow, Dru Carlson.