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Amy Swift Crosby

the story is in the telling

TBH.

January 28, 2020 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Photo: Hiroshi Sugimoto

TBH.

Admittedly, language and the construction of messages fascinate me. I really really, love noticing how people use words. When I meet someone who strings just the right words together to communicate precisely what they intended, it gives me goosebumps. Or, when I hear something complicated expressed with only a few (usually exceptional) words, I want to give a tip of the proverbial hat.

Of course, language is my vocational currency, but it’s also in our shared interest to be conscientious (if not vigilant) about how words and their meanings get co-opted. When we become complacent, our shared meaning evaporates.

In this spirit, I want to acknowledge an increasingly common preamble I’m seeing all around me (a particular favorite of those born between 1980 — 2000.) 

TBH.

It goes like this. “TBH, that date and time doesn’t really work for me.”

(For those over 50, TBH is shorthand for “to be honest.”)

Why do these three words necessitate an anacronym, you might ask?

Because along with IMHO, “in my humble opinion” and AFAIC “As Far as I’m Concerned” and FWIW, “For What It’s Worth” they have become much too long and clunky (apparently) when written in full.

These are almost exclusively used in the digital realm. And all of them are curious attempts to truncate expressions that actually didn’t need a short cut to begin with.

At one time, “to be honest” was reserved for a particularly candid revelation that prepared the listener for what the speaker was about to (honestly) share. A linguistic pre-game with a specific purpose — to delay the delivery of a piece of information that might otherwise land abruptly, hurt feelings or cause a shock, even the good kind. “To be honest” (said in full) is a natural transition to something brave — opening the gate to a disarming truth. 

“To be honest, I never liked your husband.”

“To be honest, I never showed up to work that day.”

“To be honest, I’ve always loved you.”

But today, not only has it been shortened, which naturally dilutes its potency, but the information that follows TBH is— to be really honest — a sizable non-event.

“TBH, I prefer tuna to turkey.”

“TBH, I thought it was at 5pm, not 7pm.”

“TBH, I don’t follow her.”

Dear TBH users, you’re committing a crime of precedent; sending a clear signal to anyone reading to wonder what you weren’t TBH’ing before. It also runs the risk of sounding passive-aggressive, an assemblage that can’t help but be heard with a whine. It adds unnecessary seriousness to otherwise transactional language that consciously or unconsciously cues others to listen to your words with gravitas.

A hunch about these sentence-starters is that they provide an onramp to messages that sound banal, but actually hold feelings. I should say Feelings with a capital F, the kind which call for an extra “umph”— for emphasis. An exclamation point wouldn’t be right, nor would bolding (though both would be more straightforward.) TBH is actually a digital shortcut for “read into what I’m about to say because I’m not going to say what I really mean.” 

Going back to the TBH examples above, here are some riffs on how to lose TBH, and turn subtext into context.

“That time doesn’t work for me, and I’m feeling frustrated that you always forget I have dance class on Tuesdays.”

or

“I prefer tuna to turkey and why doesn’t anyone remember that I’m a pescatarian.”

Or whatever.

Who cares, you might ask? We all need to care.

Language is a primary tool for us. If we aren’t saying what we mean, we’re still saying something. We rely on each other, whether in close and intimate relationships, or in professional collegial settings, to be candid — as much as possible. When that isn’t the case, dialogue becomes a moving target — a guessing game. When we aren’t direct or clear, we force people to assume, or makeup stories, and we lose opportunities to deepen understanding and strengthen relationships. In the perfunctory sense, it wastes time. In the poetic, it skirts connection.

TBH erodes the credibility that candor naturally cultivates. In many office communications, TBH lands with defensiveness. Interpersonally, it has a boy-who-cried-wolf quality. TBH is a sidestep (and copout) in the communication path

Don’t get me wrong; efficiencies are nice.

BRB, “Be Right Back”

FYI, “For Your Information”

GTG, “Got To Go”

These and others like them are useful for a few reasons, but the most important one is that their intent doesn’t get diluted by becoming an anacronym. And this, to me, is the litmus test.

If you have a minute for one more…

A similar frustration exists for me with “in my opinion,” but in a different way. Of course, it’s your opinion. You’re the one sharing it. In addition to the obvious, IMO initiates a subtle move to disown the idea about to be presented and adds a touch of humble bragging. Because ownership is implied in whatever statement is about to be made by the speaker, IMO signals a lack of conviction, and unwillingness to fully own whatever is about to be said. IMO feels like “this is just from the humble, possibly uninformed position where I sit. I may know nothing. Or everything. It depends on the outcome.”

Example.

“If we hire this guy, we’ll be solving a problem, but we won’t be creating a solution.”

Add IMO to this sentence and suddenly it’s smaller, less impactful, and reduces the idea to a purely subjective expression tantamount to hand-raising for agreement or disagreement. It’s just another opinion… with a whisper of “take it or leave it. If I’m right I’ll get credit for saying it, but if I’m not, then it was just my opinion — nothing more.” 

My hope is that these hashtag-style crutches will lose their luster in 2020, and that those who hope to drop a mic by using TBH will realize that this word cocktail has the opposite effect. It’s like being invited to a party billed with suspense about an impossibly cool band, only to show up and find Pandora playing that band’s music (with commercials.)

When we use language consciously, we become closer, wiser and even more free. 

When we phone it in, even without mal intent, meaning is diluted, and we miss the chance to be heard, known and seen.

The consequence to this seemingly granular referendum is that we lose something much bigger than we think – which is the attention we earned to be in the conversation at all. 

PS if you liked this post, check out Replication.

Portraits.

February 3, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Jen blurry (art). Jen clear (commerce).

If we took as many selfies of our businesses as we did of our faces, we might make more honest assessments of what needs to change. But we fear feedback – giving it, receiving it.  We’re sometimes even scared of the people who work for us, but don’t want to admit it. We shudder at the thought of auditing people and processes because that means disruption, potentially being wrong, hurting feelings, being criticized. Our small companies often function on rocket fuel – adrenalin from an exciting client, a pitch, an opportunity, the “what-if’s” that make every day as a creative or entrepreneur or talent so fun and full of hope. 

Pausing is hard. Forward motion is easier. But have you ever just stood and looked yourself in the eye – for an uncomfortable amount of time? Looking into your own eyes, you see things. Personal things. Memories. Curiosities. Tendencies. Truths. When I created SMARTY in 2008, I was running on the adrenalin of leaving another women’s network as the editor in chief, wild-eyed and sleep deprived from the rigors of childbirth and breastfeeding, and the excitement of corralling a small team of people who could help me launch a different kind of business network for women. But we moved with such speed (ahem, seat-of-our-pants-ness) that I rarely took the time to assess our state of the union. Looking at P&L’s is one part of a businesses story – but really the overall picture was hard to capture. I wanted to look smarty in the eye and ponder it – but that would take too long and I was fielding too many potential land mines that I just Kept. It. Moving. I didn’t take selfies when I should have (which is why the model is now changing!).
If we can effectively turn the camera on our businesses – we could get past the discomfort of the long gaze and transcend beyond survival into relevance.

Here’s to more starring at ourselves in the mirror (no filter). The entrepreneurial selfie requires a deeper look. And one that takes feedback.

The Process Is The Answer.

January 26, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Sometimes you have to pull the wagon and know you're going somewhere good (despite the trailer park.). Image thanks to @denisebovee

Most of us view our days and processes as increments of time toward a finish line, an answer or at least a conclusion.
“If I do this, then X will happen, and I’ll get / feel / know / earn Y.”

That’s natural. I think great meditators and highly conscious people are some of the only ones who don’t do this – as they are wise enough to view the process as the answer, the time as the finish line, and the end of the day as the simple conclusion of the question. But it’s hard to argue that importing your MailChimp contacts or making images for the website or pitching work is as conclusive or exciting as getting funded for an internet show, landing Podcast sponsorship, getting a call from Maria Shriver about….well, anything. One is process toward an end goal, the other is a goal realized.

So how to stay equanimous – and as joyful in the process as in the fireworks? Know that it’s mostly process. And knowing that, make it part of your life’s work – part of a bigger contribution, part of an impact that can only be seen for about a mile, but that resonates for miles and miles. Because it does. That blog you wrote/product you made/speech you gave/video you made? It changed someone’s view. And her family benefited. And her child had a idea because of it. And she slept better that night. And woke up ready to tackle her own miracle. And so forth. You cannot know – it’s impossible – your ultimate, cascading, winding, surprising impact is infinite. But being “in” the process of impact at the very least is a brightening reminder of WHY you do what you do. Let the answer remain elusive. And do it anyway.
This isn’t to say profits don’t matter, strategy doesn’t matter – yes the fundamentals of business are the infrastructure for impact to prevail. Tighten those up! Make them resilient and smart.

Then, do your work.

Deep-ish thoughts on a Tuesday. Why not.

I Can’t Believe Anyone Thinks This Still Works.

January 19, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Special? No. Nothing special about this.

The first is an oldie but goodie.

1. A random phone number from upstate New York calls to tell you, “Amy Swift! You’ve won a cruise! Just stay on the line to collect your prize with our customer service specialist!” Who thinks this still works…and if it does, and only on the elderly or infirm, are you really getting an ROI on this mockery of direct sales?!

2. The second is a new tactic that goes like this (at least when he calls me):
“Hey Amy it’s Rob calling back from First Finance” …dude calling back? We’ve never – ever – talked… “Just wanted to follow up on that small business loan we talked about” oh yes that we talked about…never “and make sure you make the deadline to get your paperwork in…” …oh yes! All my paperwork that I don’t have… 
This familiar, level-jumper approach is designed to fool someone (it’s hard to imagine who)  into thinking we have an established relationship. It’s pretty hilarious to hear these people play the ‘casual, busy agent just doing his job and I promise you we aren’t strangers’ routine.

3. The third is the lowly sandwich board. All a sandwich board does for an establishment is make it look like it’s the kind of place with Ladies Night or Dollar Taco Tuesdays. And maybe that’s the mission and audience. But most establishments use it as a way to hook a passerby into a meal or drink – and many are probably decent places. Unfortunately the fold-over-sidewalk-sign discredits before the conversation even begins. Why? ‘Cause mostly it’s tacky, in neon writing, and leads with price.

As much as a certain type of guy will still make comments when you walk down the street or as he passes by in his Camaro, a certain kind of business will always think mediocre strategies will yield extraordinary results. But we’re all getting smarter, more exhausted by the marketing noise, and so much less tolerant of idiotry.
It all used to upset me. #whybother #stopwastingmytime #dontcallmycellphone There’s  a lot to be upset about in the world. Bad marketing should be the least of it. But for me, it pushes buttons. Isn’t it nice, as a small business owner, to put something more thoughtful into the world? Gosh we’re awesome (nothing like a little superiority to get you going on a Tuesday.)

Go forth …and say it better!

Rebel Rebel.

January 13, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Photo from www.pleasekillme.com

Real stars are original.
They are inspired by and moved by and informed by other art, culture, poets, writers, leaders – YET… they are totally, radically, uniquely themselves. They don’t imitate.
Many worthy stars are never recognized, and others do something, usually for a long time, with only a little recognition. You get the feeling they’d do it whether anyone was watching, or not.
Others go big – take big stages, draw millions of sales, become household names and references.
But what I love about a David Bowie, for instance, is that he expressed despite disagreement or finger pointing or rejection. He said what he had to say in the way he had to say it. Masculine. Feminine. Androgynous. In Spandex.

That’s brave. That’s rebellious! And that was before digital had the power to take your weirdness and multiply it  – in seconds. He did it despite….whatever resistance was there for him.
A real star leaves you with a message, a question or a thought-provoking dream. You can buy it or not, play it or not, read it or not. They’re going to say it whether you’re listening, or not.

As a business owner, you can’t take “promotion” off the table entirely because essentially you’d be muting your message. But what if you just changed the intention from, “how can I sell this?” to “how am I going to express myself today?”

It’s a little more artful.
Long live Bowie. A rebel worth remembering.

Commitments. The Fourth Kind.

January 5, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Two members of the Polar Bear Club. I live with the crazy guy on the right. See the live action plunge here.

We all make them – but the terms of those commitments vary – and typically fall into three categories…

The short-term ones are day to day. Could be about 40 minutes of cardio, or eating vegan before 5pm, or cycling to work instead of driving, or spending an hour with your child without checking your device. Those are relatively easy, and tend to get easier the more often we do them.

The mid-term ones are saying we’ll be there, and then showing up, or investing in a blog, telling the world, and then posting things, volunteering with people who depend on you. Those are harder – because it’s easy to negotiate out of them – but once in the groove, we tend to stay there.

The long-term ones are the biggies – getting married, having kids, buying real estate, forming partnerships, investing capital, making an effort with relationships – year after year. These ones write the music of our lives because they’re constantly there, reflecting back to us who we are and how we are. In some ways they’re the easiest (you don’t re-decide about them daily) and the hardest (you’re in it…today, tomorrow, the next day…and still….and still!). They reassure us and comfort us, but they’re the ones we take for granted. They anchor us, and provoke us – simultaneously.

But then – there’s the last kind of commitment – the fourth kind. The kind we don’t do enough…
Like deciding that the New Year is best kicked off by jumping into the icy Atlantic, with snow on the ground, and FULLY submerging under water. That one takes commitment AND a little bit of crazy.
It seems to me that we all have one, two and three pretty much covered. But what if we had a monthly wild card, like #4?! Could be in business – or personally – I don’t think it matters. But flexing that muscle seems important as we age and lean toward seeking safety (most of the time.)

Who’s in?!?!?

Happy New Year – looking forward to 2016 with you

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About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

I’m a brand strategist and copy writer. I mostly work with partner agencies or directly with the leadership or founding team at a brand. My primary mission is to connect design and messaging solutions to business missions. I work with start-ups and Fortune 500 companies, across beauty, hospitality, wellness/fitness, CPG and retail. This blog reflects my personal writing and explores our humanity – often as it relates to work, space, time and language. You can review my portfolio here or connect with me here.

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The Brandsmiths Podcast



Brand Strategists Hilary Laffer and Amy Swift Crosby tackle business questions with candid, (mostly) serious and definitely unscripted workshopping sessions. Guests – from small business owners to CEOs, executive directors and founders – bring their head-scratchers, hunches and conundrums to Hilary, the owner of a boutique creative agency in Los Angeles, and Amy, a copy writer.

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