It’s not your numbers that make you interesting. It’s not your title, your logo, your tagline, your brand promise. It’s not the colors you agonized over for your website. It’s not about what you’ve accomplished, because to me, that’s already in the past.

I want to follow your story. I want to follow your tomorrow, your hope for what’s next and your aspirations for how the world around you – however small – is going to be better for your presence. That can be making a better ballpoint pen, or building the nanostructures that will cure cancer. But tell me something interesting.

You don’t have to be big to have a story. True North is a snack company telling stories about its community, not just it’s snacks. Their stories draw you in, and tell you a little something about the nature of that company, make you want to know more. When I see them on the shelf, I’ll be intrigued. Not by their almonds alone, but by the fact that they’re committed to being and becoming something more interesting.

You don’t have to be small and quirky to have a story, either. During the Masters, Exxon Mobil ran a series of spots talking about their Mickelson teacher’s academy and their education initiatives. They’re talking about the future. Not laboring in the past, over things that have always been. They’re weaving stories. Focusing on what’s next for their industry, their company, their community. And they’re talking about it.

Your followers or blog subscribers or poorly veiled pitches disguised as e-books don’t tell me a thing about you, and flaunting them makes me wonder what’s behind it all.

Your press release on your blog doesn’t inspire me to think of you in a different, fascinating, personality-infused light.

Your carefully crafted brand message doesn’t motivate me to see my world differently and change my perspective on how and where I fit, either with or without you.

Convention is convention because it’s always been there, and there may well be a place for that. Sometimes. But in amidst the noise, I want to hear your voice. I want you to stand out, to rise above your function and instead find your purpose. I want to know why you’re here, what makes up the fabric of you.

Won’t you put down your style manual, your brand guidelines, your notions of what you think will make me open my wallet or write something nice about you?

Won’t you stop trying to get my attention by waving frantically, and instead invite me to hear a quiet story that’s instead been written just for me?

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