Like a baseball pitcher, the exceptional communicator chooses a delivery for a specific effect.
Why do so many job listings call for an "exceptional communicator"?
This phrase appears so often in postings that I searched one of the recruitment sites for Exceptional Communicator Jobs in Chicago. I came up with 9,000 listings. Is there even enough oxygen in the Windy City for thousands of exceptional communicators?
Resumes adopt keywords from job postings, so mine should state that I have "exceptional written, oral, interpersonal, and presentation skills." In theory, that exact wording will engage the job-matching robot and move me to the top of the list.
In the real world, Exceptional Communicator is not a job title. Human screeners would reject "exceptional communicator" on a resume—that's not how exceptional communicators write. Get past the HR department and into an interview, and less-than-exceptional communicators will be on the other side of the desk. Your mission is to draw out at least some details about the job beyond those buzzwords, and to display a few useful skills. It's exceptionally difficult.
Exceptionalism disproves a rule
Applicants need to show that they're aware of their communication style, but they may have trouble defining it. The great writers learn to "show, don't tell," but HR departments aren't looking for Chekhov an a resume. A glint of light on broken glass certainly won't interest the applicant tracking software in your moonlighting.
How do you describe a communication style? My research suggests that there are three basic communication types, or four major styles, or five ways to communicate or maybe six, or "your style is unique."
Resume robots pick out words like collaboration or flexibility that imply an approach to communication. Exceptional communicators can read a situation and respond in any number of ways—whatever gets results. The rule is not to know your style but to change your style.
Take email, which by one estimate takes up 2½ hours a day at work. If we were all exceptional, this would take no time at all. Instead we start with "Not sure if you saw my last email," which is a sign of someone who hasn't found the ideal style yet.
If emails aren't getting the job done, that's often a cue to keep it short. My first rule of email is, The longer the message, the less it gets read. At work, emails aren't being read for pleasure, so the concise message is the actionable one.
My second rule of email is, the longer the address list, the longer the odds of reaching everyone. Recipients have no problem deleting marketing emails unread. A few words in the subject line make all the difference, and message has to be simple to get just one more click. There's more room for nuance in an email to staff, but the reader's presumption is, this is good information, but it doesn't necessarily apply to me.
Which leads to my third rule of email: If you really want a reply, call. Go ahead and email first, though. The call will go to voicemail, but you'll get an email back.
Saying too much, or not enough
Direct is not everyone's style, but at some point everyone has to be direct. Email should turn us into editors, making sure that people in a hurry can get to the point of our message. It's not always obvious because people are thinking through an issue as they write. They're just warming up, erecting scaffolding that gets them to those hard-to-reach places. Eventually the scaffold has to come down so that everyone can see clearly what they've built.
But direct isn't always the best approach. Persuasion requires telling a story or building to a point. When my goal is to influence opinion, or even just to explain a process, I find I'm writing not too much but too little. There are steps left out. Also, I tend to think a lot about structure, which can wring out any spontaneity. Straying off topic may be necessary to build trust in the messenger as well as the message. Persuasion is a matter of the heart as well as the head.
Face-to-face communication is an exceptional challenge, because every listener is unique. An engaging approach takes a fast pace and projects a fun attitude. But too much drama can be a turnoff, and some will feel the speaker is talking but not listening. In a group setting it can be hard not to interject as ideas came to you. Waiting for a break in the discussion can be frustrating when the break never comes. But talking over the speaker is rude. I pause, and as the last person to speak I get to frame the next steps.
I'm always working at my communication—to read how I come across, vary my pace and to inject vigor into my presentation. My slower pace represent discipline and organization. Still, I've lost jobs being too calm. One I called an editor after a job interview and learned I wouldn't be hired. What did she like in the winning candidate? She struggled a bit to answer, but talked about the candidate's enthusiasm. I wanted that job just as much, but that desire didn't come through.
As communicators, we're like the baseball pitcher in baseball. We become powerful once we command multiple styles—not just the fastball but also the breaking ball or the changeup. Then to get our pitch across the plate, we size up the batter's abilities and pay attention to how they respond to each pitch. That's a skill that takes years to acquire, and the way to do it is to keep throwing.
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