A grizzly story of loyalty

Jan with Ted

This is one of a series of posts about boosting loyalty and engagement among customers, employees and investors.

Bear with me

Yesterday I visited Tedworth House, the new Personnel Recovery Centre from Help for Heroes. I was there to see the CFO of H4H, and he showed me around the amazing facilities that they are building to look after recovering servicemen and women.

Jonathan brought me a cup of coffee at the canteen and paid using a card. He carries an impressive collection of loyalty cards, and as Jan behind the counter made the coffee he told me a story about loyalty which clearly shows why Help for Heroes has done such a great job of capturing the public loyalty in the last 4 years.

I asked about the roles played by contractors at Tedworth House. I had noticed that Jan was working for a separate organisation called Blue Apple. Jonathan explained that engaging with contractors was a high priority at Help for Heroes, and that with so many different experts involved in the recovery process it was essential to help everyone feel fully involved. Then he told me about a recent crime.

Unbearable

The ransom note

The Tedworth House mascot is a large bear, naturally called Ted, and he lives behind the canteen. A few months ago, Ted disappeared. Shortly after his disappearance, a ransom note appeared, demanding that the canteen staff raise money for Help for Heroes to secure Ted's return. Further photos appeared showing a blindfolded Ted with menacing looking masked guards.

Jan and her colleague from Blue Apple set about collecting funds and quickly hit their fundraising target, but the kidnappers - or bearnappers as they became known - continued to demand more.

Eventually Ted was released, and when I visited he was seated in comfort in the canteen, where I photographed him with a relieved Jan.

Honey trap

Jan and her team mates are committed to the work of Help for Heroes and even though they are employed by a separate organisation they play a valuable part in the life and vibrancy of the recovery centre, which is a positive and optimistic place. As a visitor I was really impressed how Jan and her colleagues are an integral part of the Help for Heroes story. After all, leadership is largely about storytelling - narrative gives a focus for loyalty. And of course praise for great suppliers is always important.
Jonathan told me another story of a leader in action building loyalty - and recognising the contributions of suppliers. Though Tedworth House is already a great facility, Help for Heroes has plans to make it even better, and much of the site is humming with builders and construction machinery. Bryn Parry, the founder of Help for Heroes, gathered the builders from Vinci, the building contractor, on the first day of a 26 week project, invited a couple of wounded soldiers to speak to them, presented each of them with a H4H Tshirt, and explained how important their work was. The Vinci team completed their 26 week project in 16 weeks, with builders volunteering to work 100 hour weeks to keep the project moving.

Help for Heroes is doing a great job looking after the wounded, but it is also a fine example of loyalty-building and leadership. And if you are looking for good examples in catering and construction, I can certainly recommend Blue Apple and Vinci!

Worthy isn't enough - the message has to be sexy

I recently met up with a university friend who has become a marketing professional. Since he has been in Canada for the last 5 years we had plenty of catching up to do. He was the massive oarsman who used to sit in front of me in a rowing boat day in day out, so I've always felt we were pretty well in sync and I was very interested to learn what insights he has gleaned over the last few years.
Storytelling
Rolf is a fantastic communicator. He has worked extensively with Native American communities in British Columbia, helping maintain their traditions and develop and share the narratives that embody their culture. In fact, narrative was a central theme of Rolf's conversation as he described how we make sense of the world around us by storytelling. My last blog post was on the subject of storytelling, so I was quick to agree.
I've recently been studying several businesses that could be described as "good". They major on providing excellent value for clients while applying waste-eliminating techniques to traditional processes. All these businesses (in financial services, healthcare and renewable energy) have a common feature: they improve on traditional business models and pass most of the benefit on to their customers.
How to tell an ethical story?
I mentioned this to Rolf and asked his advice as a marketing expert. How could these businesses engage with their customers without increasing their prices to the point where they were no longer competitive with traditional incumbent alternatives? Perhaps the clearest illustration of this is in financial services where traditional banks are widely reviled, yet organisations like Zopa which match borrowers to lenders and reduce the spread retained by traditional banks struggle to be noticed. Their ability to advertise is limited by the modest fees they charge. In contrast in particular with payday lenders, some of which charge APRs of more than 4,000%, the media profile of Zopa, Ratesetter and others is tiny.
Good isn't good enough
Having myself built a business with a strong ethical message - maximising the impact of donations to charity - I have wrestled with this challenge for years. As Rolf points out, it's not always the ethical marketeers who win - he cites the US food market as an example in which obese consumers harm themselves while encouraged by barely regulated marketeers.
So the challenge is to avoid the trap of thinking that one is marketing to homo economicus, the mythical hyper-rational consumer beloved by traditional economists. Instead, we need to tune our messages to real people, taking note of behavioural economics - the irrationality and short-termism that characterises consumer behaviour. No amount of rigorous mathematics can overcome the primal decision drivers that really shape consumer choices.
Sex sells - almost anything
Rolf expresses it very simply: "Worthy isn't enough - the message has to be sexy." Whatever you are marketing, it's vital to appeal to the base of the brain. Transparency and economic justification are nice-to-have, and indeed they are essential in justifying the ethical business tag, but they are not sufficient on their own. The marketeer's magic is in adding a frisson of excitement to the subject which really turns customers on.
Rolf is living the message - as marketing director of a company that makes concrete additives, he has a far greater challenge than selling fast cars or designer clothes. Yet take a look at his marketing material with its beautiful images of towering structures and verdant scenery and it's clear that this is a man who can make concrete seem sexy!

Leadership as storytelling - how narratives bond teams

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training. Here is the full list.

Leaders as storytellers

If you aim to encourage others to follow you, it's worth studying the techniques of successful historical leaders. One common feature of great leaders is their ability to engage with their teams by involving them in a story - or narrative.

From Henry V to Winston Churchill, great wartime leaders are remembered for their rousing stories. They invited their followers to join them in making history, and pointed out how future generations would retell their exploits.

While few leaders face the French knights at Agincourt, or Hitler's armies across the Channel, every leader can apply the storytelling principles that Henry and Churchill brilliantly demonstrate. As a young Royal Marine I learned this lesson and I hope you'll find it useful too.

The fewer men, the greater share of glory

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Henry V, Act 4 Scene 3

As one of the greatest leaders in history or literature, Shakespeare's Henry V is a fine source of leadership inspiration. In this speech to rally his troops for battle, he tells them that they will tell their sons of their exploits at Agincourt for years to come.

Henry's aim is to bind his men to him. He has already offered to send home anyone who doesn't have the stomach for the fight ahead, and even to pay their salaries before they go. He is not relying on discipline and threats but on aspiration to encourage his men to join him in battle. He even highlights that if anyone does leave then the glory of the remaining soldiers will only increase - he creates a sense of exclusivity among this band of brothers.

Focus on the prize

This lesson lies at the heart of leadership. Henry is plotting out the benefits of featuring in his story, and it works. His positive reinforcement of the roles of his lieutenants Warwick, Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester (all of whom get a name-check in his speech) binds each of them to their posts through the struggle ahead.

Critically, Henry focuses on the prize - the positive result, rather than the struggles that lie between his audience and their status as storybook heroes. He doesn't even mention the possibility of defeat, even though it's very real.

Getting out of dire straights

When he spoke to the nation on 18 June 1940, Winston Churchill faced the prospect not of imminent victory over the French, but of the imminent invasion as Hitler prepared Operation Sealion. Newly in post as Prime Minister, Churchill did not shy away from the harsh reality of the situation, but he offered hope was well as purpose, and above all, he set the struggle in an imagined historical context:

Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, This was their finest hour.

I think many people would argue that it was.

OK - but we're not at war now

Churchill and Henry V were wartime leaders operating in extreme conditions, but storytelling still has an important role to play in leadership, even when the setting is not quite so dramatic.

In 1997 I was put in charge of a group of 60 Royal Marine recruits, and challenged to convert them from civilians to Commandos in 9 months. To succeed, I would need to ensure that as many of them as possible stayed in my troop, without resigning, being injured, or failing to pick up new skills at the required rate.

I knew that they were in for a tough time, and also that many would doubt their desire and ability to complete their training. Most of all, I knew that these doubts would be most damaging when the recruits were out of the reach of me and the rest of the training team. So I thought about how to ensure that every time they had a break and the opportunity to return to the familiar comforts of home and family they still wanted to return to the challenges and discomfort of the Commando Training Centre.

I realised that when they headed home, their friends would be asking them what they had been doing with the Royal Marines. And I knew that if their answer was good enough they would enjoy telling the story. So my challenge was to ensure that whenever my recruits went home, I could guarantee that they had the best story in the pub. Every week I was careful to ensure that there was at least one episode that  they could turn into a great story, and I noticed that they enjoyed rehearsing - the more dramatic, outlandish (and often uncomfortable) the episode the better.

As the troop prepared to depart for 2 weeks of Easter leave, I played my best hand - knowing that this was the most likely time for the comforts of home to tempt my men to stay away. As they waited for the train, I asked them if anyone knew what an "SSN" is. At first no-one volunteered an answer, but one recruit hesitantly guessed "Is it a nuclear submarine?".

I congratulated him on his answer and explained that on their return from leave the troop would embark on an exercise in and around Scotland which would include a reconnaissance phase involving covert insertion and extraction by SSN. This wasn't standard for recruit training, but I'd managed to get my troop on a special exercise with extra resources. Everyone returned from Easter leave keen to collect another great story.

The measurable result of this was that for the first phase of training, 736 Troop had the highest retention rate among recruit troops for 5 years. We lost no-one at all for the first 10 weeks, speeding the recruits towards realising their Commando ambitions and saving the taxpayer a small fortune too.

The best story in the pub

So if you are seeking ways to motivate a team, ensure that every member has the best story in the pub. As leader your role is to provide your team with the basis of the story and encourage them to take ownership of it and retell it in their own words. If your stories align with your values and objectives, your team will be loyal, dedicated and effective.

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training. Here is the full list.

How a crisis can help a team to bond

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training.  Here is the full list.

Biscuits Brown

A crisis can make or break a team. In particular, if trust breaks down within the team it can become very difficult to operate. If you are a member of a team that experiences a crisis, it's worth reflecting on some of the ways the team can protect itself from breakdown and turn the crisis into a bonding experience. Certain key factors can help with this process - open communications, patience and loyalty - as I learned early on in training as a Royal Marine.

One last inspection

On the final day of Exercise Tenderfoot, our first experience of "military camping" as trainee Royal Marines, we experienced a crisis. Friday started as usual with an inspection of all our equipment at 0600. In the dawn light a group of 36 young men stood behind groundsheets carefully laid with every item of our personal equipment. Our rifles were stripped down for detailed inspection, our mess tins polished and of course all our clothes were folded to the regulation A4 size and laid out in the same format as everyone else's.

But Friday was to be the last day of the 5 day exercise, and we were looking forward to a chance to recuperate over the weekend. It had been a tough week, but it was nearly over.

Get on the flank

Unfortunately, failing an inspection carried a heavy penalty. If your rifle barrel contained a speck of dust or your toothpaste tube was not evenly squeezed, you would be told by the inspecting Sergeant to "get on the flank". This involved quickly packing away all your equipment and running to the side of the inspection area. Once the inspection was complete, the group on the flank would be taken away for a period of about 45 minutes of "corrective training" - running up and down steep hills with heavy loads and doing uncountable pressups, situps, burpees, squats, leg raises, etc etc. This is known as a "thrashing" and is often accompanied by colourful expressions from the instructors like "I'm going to thrash you til your eyes bleed!"

Obstacle crossing drills

While the unfortunate flankers were being thrashed, those few of us who had passed the inspection were sent off to learn how to conduct a military obstacle crossing. This involves carefully approaching, checking and then crossing the obstacle covertly while protecting each other from attack. We rehearsed this so that when the flankers returned from their thrashing we would be able to show them a demonstration.

The flankers joined us once they had collected their 24 hour ration packs (boxes containing 3,600 calories of food to keep soldiers well fed in the field), and we gave our demonstration. Then, reunited, we all practiced obstacle crossings and other techniques for the remainder of the morning.

Who's been eating my biscuits?

At lunchtime we returned to the main camp, and those of us who had given the demonstration earlier had the opportunity to collect our ration packs. I was the last to collect mine and noticed that it had been opened, and a packet of brown biscuits had been removed. Foolishly, I said "has anyone seen the biscuits from this ration pack?" Colour Sergeant Richards overheard and boomed "Who has stolen Mr Brabyn's biscuits?"

Brown biscuits (photo above) are not much different from the hard tack issued in Nelson's Navy, so I wasn't very upset that my ration pack was missing a packet of them. Several people immediately offered to share their biscuits with me, and I told C/Sgt Richards that it really wasn't a problem...

But he disagreed. To him it appeared that there was a criminal in our midst. Food is of vital (literally) importance to the soldier, and anyone who tampers with it could cause terrible consequences. He ordered us all to stand in three ranks and then explained that he wanted the culprit to own up. No-one did.

Confess!

As it began to rain, we were treated to a severe thrashing. Stress positions combined with leopard crawling through sand and gravel opened cuts and scrapes and soon we were all soaked and mostly bleeding. After about 15 minutes, C/Sgt Richards announced that he would return in 10 minutes after we had had the chance to flush out the thief in our midst.

What followed was a combination of painful comedy and game theory. No one would confess. After 10 minutes, the thrashing began again. In a perverse adaptation of the prisoner's dilemma, we each weighed the likely consequences of making a false confession, speculating whether the courage of the confessor would mitigate any punishment, and whether our colleagues would believe we were confessing only for their benefit.

When the next pause came, someone suggested that since no-one would confess openly perhaps they would do it one-to-one. Since my biscuits were the stolen ones, I was chosen as the person to hear this high-speed series of private declarations. 35 people trooped past me whispering that "it wasn't me". After half a dozen had passed, I couldn't stop laughing out of frustration that this trivial biscuit loss had led to an apparently impassable problem and a potentially endless thrashing.

We knew we had finished our training and we also had enough rations to last until the following day, so we faced the prospect of 24 hours of misery unless someone owned up.

The thrashings continued, interspersed with further breaks in which we discussed whether to stand in solidarity or offer a human sacrifice. We stood firm. After a few hours, the training team decided that they had proved their point (or that they wanted to get home) and we ran the 4 miles back to the Commando Training Centre.

Open communications, patience and loyalty

Although we could have offered up a false confessor (recent studies show how easy it is to prompt a false confession), we chose to stick together. We were under a lot of pressure and in some cases pain too, and it was by quickly talking through our options and agreeing that it was better for us all if we pushed through the discomfort and stuck together, we eventually prevailed.

It was a bizarre episode in which a trivial loss resulted in hours of misery, but it came to form part of the lore and narrative of our little group - and it still does today. Ask any of those 36 people about "the biscuits" and they will instantly know what you mean even 16 years on. More importantly, it reassured us all that sticking together, even when we had good cause for distrust, was the best option for the group.

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training.  Here is the full list.

How to boost team performance without increasing costs

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training.  Here is the full list.


The Royal Marines specialise in creating high performing teams, and yet they don't pay exceptional salaries or offer annual bonuses. Much of their performance is driven by powerful symbolism and the sense of belonging and commitment that this creates. Most organisations can benefit from a similar approach, boosting team performance without draining the corporate coffers. The secret lies in engaging team members with the corporate vision - and often embodying that vision in simple symbols. I saved my employer many thousands of pounds when I learned this lesson.

Do you have a talisman that is always with you? Something which inspires and motivates you, like a piece of religious jewelry, a wedding ring or a photograph of your family? Something that identifies you with a group of people who share your beliefs, your support for a sports team, your DNA or something else? If you do, the chances are you will quickly identify yourself with that group if you are asked to describe yourself - it forms an important part of your identity.

Tenderfoot

Four weeks into my training as a Royal Marine we were sent on our first field exercise - Exercise Tenderfoot. This was a week-long camping trip designed to familiarise us with techniques like camouflage and concealment, navigation and communications. Every day began at 0600 with a full inspection every item of our equipment to ensure that we had cleaned, folded and waterproofed everything and shaved every single bristle. Those whose toothpaste tubes were not evenly squeezed, or whose socks were not folded the same way as everyone else could look forward to half an hour of "thrashing" - grueling physical exercise designed to reinforce the lesson that a good Royal Marine always takes care of his equipment and pays attention to detail.

Stoned?

One morning this routine varied slightly. We were led to a bleak part of Woodbury Common and among the gorse 2 Section (about a third of us) were called forward. Sergeant MacDonald, their section Sergeant, instructed them to strip to the waist and kneel down along a path. The rest of us watched as the sun rose on this scene and we wondered if we were about to witness a new order of magnitude of punishment for some misdemeanour we didn't know about. After a few moments, Sergeant MacDonald made a short speech. It seemed pretty surreal at the time - he informed them that they were about to take on an onerous responsibility, and that each of them would be required to look after a small stone. He then presented each kneeling section member with a pebble painted with the first three letters of their surnames. He explained that they were to carry this stone with them at all times (the only exceptions being when they were swimming or showering). Finally, and to no-one's surprise, he pointed out that the penalties for failing to produce the stone on demand would be severe.

We left the scene of this strange ceremony and returned to our training. Over the coming weeks and months, 2 Section's stones became a feature of their identity. At first the rest of us (in 1 and 3 Sections) felt we had escaped lightly as we watched hapless members of 2 Section running up and down various hills after failing to produce stones when challenged. But we also noticed that 2 Section welcomed their occasional hardships as a price worth paying for being a bit "special". On the command "With your stones, prove!" they would proudly scrabble in pockets or dig out specially created necklaces and present their stones for inspection. They quickly produced a much larger stone with "Sergeant of the week" painted on it which they presented each week to one of the training Sergeants.

From ceremony to increased retention

I noticed the effect that the stones had on 2 Section, and when a couple of years later I was training recruits, I copied Sergeant MacDonald's idea. In a cliff-top sunset ceremony I presented each of the recruits in my troop with a stone with their initials painted on it and explained that their membership of 736 Troop came with an extra duty. Like 2 Section, they were mystified at first, but quickly realised that their stones marked them out from the other recruit troops in training. Each week one person would be singled out to carry the Troop stone, a larger and heavier stone (pictured left) that added a couple of kilos to already heavy loads. The troop became fiercely possessive of these peculiar symbols and built a lore around it which intrigued other recruit troops and their training teams.

How this can save you money

But the real value of the stones was much more dramatic than bragging rights. 736 Troop had the highest retention rate since detailed records had begun 5 years earlier. In other words, fewer recruits failed the key tests that enabled them to progress to the next stage of training, and fewer opted to leave the Royal Marines, so the return on investment in the training of the troop was exceptionally high. On the few occasions when I had to "backtroop" a recruit, handing back his stone was the most poignant part of his departure from 736 Troop. Recruits worked extra hard to stay in the troop that gave them the right to carry a stone. A half hour ceremony on a cliff-top saved the taxpayer a small fortune. And when they passed out of training, my troop presented me with an enormous boulder bearing all their signatures.

If you are in charge of a team perhaps you have found ways to boost team performance that don't involve simply raising salaries. If you have, please share them here.

This is one of a series of articles on lessons from Commando training.  Here is the full list.