Been There. Done That.

Yes. It’s true. At one time in our careers, we were both Wild Bores. In fact, it’s a weakness we continue to fight on a daily basis. Perhaps we should start a mutual organization and call it Wild Bores Anonymous (WBA). Our purpose could be “To enable members to stay clear and concise and to help other Wild Bores achieve communication efficiency.” Just imagine attending one of these meetings.

Member: “Hi. My name is Kathy, and I’m a Wild Bore.”

Group: “Hi, Kathy.”

Member: “It’s been three months since I bored my colleagues with a long, rambling explanation, detailing everything I knew on the subject at hand, just in case they asked.”

OK. We are just joking, but we know what it’s like to do the hard work of communicating efficiently. And we have experienced the difficult lessons and high costs of doing it wrong. We’d like to share our personal stories and memories of when each of us lost the battle for communication efficiency.

I grew up believing that I would one day be a writer. I simply loved words, and I liked to use a lot of them. In fact, my nickname was Chatty Kathy. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I was paid by the word. The more words I used, the more money I would make. You might laugh at this; even today, I find myself repeating this expression in jest, but deep down, perhaps I still hoped that it might be true.

During my early career as a corporate marketing professional, I had several mentors who tried to convince me thatless was better. One such mentor was Brian, who begged me to contain my written reports to one page. I found a way to meet his requirements by reducing the font size and narrowing the margins. Even then, my reports often spilled onto to page two and three. I had so much to say.

I remember once when I was interviewing for a job with a company. It wasn’t just any company or any person; in fact, it was the president of the LEGO Group in North America. In my job search, LEGO was my number one target company. I literally had dreams of how cool it would be to work there. So, I thought I’d go straight to the top. I pitched an idea in writing and mailed it to the president. And a miracle happened—he granted me an interview. OMG. This was my big moment. As I sat in his office, I felt like I belonged there.

We started with some small talk to ease into the discussion and to get to know each other. Then he asked me the question, “So what are you looking for? Do you want a job? Are you looking to do some consulting? How can I help you?”

I responded, “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

He looked surprised by my response and was quiet for a few seconds.

The awkward silence was enough to propel me into a thirty-five-minute dissertation. I outlined each scenario—employee, consultant, joint-venture partner—with a level of detail that even surprised me. When I came up for air, I glanced at the wall