The last 72 hours have reminded me why good public relations requires good listening. We are often so busy convincing our clients, our partners, and ourselves that we are in a “conversation” with people that it’s easy to forget that more than 50% of that equation involves listening to the other person. In this case, the other person was an Iowan. And wow, did I ever learn a lot.
Even though a city-slicker, big-town kinda boy, I’ve always liked Iowa. I was introduced to the state by the Iowa contingent of the Sherinian family who were always cool, educated, and very aware of the world around them. But it wasn’t until I got outside of Des Moines during a work trip these past few days that I really got a sense for what makes the state the perfect place to talk to people and get a pulse for what makes America tick.
The Caucus Conversation
The minute I landed in Des Moines I met a visual reminder of the pre-caucus season in which Iowa finds itself. Political leaders, candidates, and their over-caffeinated aides were busily jumping into the battalion of black SUVs busting out of the parking lot. They were off to town halls and meetings, blackberries in hand and talking points already in play. It was as if K Street and Main Street had suddenly been re-routed into each other. The per capita Iowan/political celebrity quotient is very high right now, and will be until election I suppose. This was a fascinating, new spectacle for me, but not for the Iowans I met.
I asked people what they thought about this phenomenon. Did being the object of everyone’s political affection bother them? No way. The answer I got from most people was that they were used to being part of these large-scale focus groups and listening tours, and welcomed it. One woman told me, “I love it! I get at least 10 minutes to actually talk to these people who will run my country. I know it’s because we’re in Iowa, and I want to make sure they’ve heard me.”
Being heard – Heartland style
It was the last part of this woman’s comment that really hit me. She explained, as did many of the people I talked to in venues large and small, that Iowans expect political candidates to hear from them and get to know them before firing off soundbites and slogans. “I explained to Mrs. Obama things about my life the last time around and will give the Republicans a piece of my mind this time!” she explained. During a different conversation, another person explained it a different way. This man, a senior citizen who claimed to have “seen it all” said he participates in online chats and town halls, but that he doesn’t really know if people are listening until a candidate has come to Iowa to meet with them face-to-face. “I need more than a moment, ” he told me. “And that includes with you, so stop talking for a minute and let me tell you what I think.” I love it. That kind of comfortable candor and ability to engage in a one-on-one dialogue with someone made each of my meetings in Iowa unique. I can’t help but wonder if this ability is a result of years of caucus meetings, a learned skill that somehow becomes part of Iowans’ sub-conscious political communications training starting in their earliest years, or if it’s just because they are friendly and open. Probably a little bit of both.
I got the sense that many Iowans didn’t welcome the caucus season conversations because they viewed themselves as political thermometers or bellwethers. Their state is not important just because of the electoral calendar and they most definitely don’t see themselves as a “median indicator” of anything. They view themselves as good communicators and good people who have something to say.
One of us
After criss-crossing the state, I learned my most important lesson about how Iowans talk – and want to be heard – from a young man in downtown Des Moines a few hours before my departure. As I quizzed him about what he thought about being part of the American political litmus test for this election, he said, “I don’t mind that these people come to Iowa to test out their campaigns. We’re nice to visitors, and will give you our time, but the lady who gives out the parking tickets will treat you just like one of us when your meter runs out.”
Indeed she does. Enjoy that $15 Des Moines. The check’s in the mail. Now that I’ve been reminded how Iowans want to converse…and be heard…I’ll plan accordingly and put more quarters in the meter next time. And I’ll start putting more quarters in the meter with everybody I talk to. It makes sense in the heartland and in everything we do.