How Effective Leaders Create Influence and Impact
I’m working with David, a contract manager at a Fortune 100 technology company.
His company is sending business and design work out to partner companies — essentially outsourcing pieces of their operation — and David is responsible for making sure the contracts behind all that work are rock solid.
He has a ninety-minute talk to give to about a hundred people on his team.
He has three messages he needs his people to understand.
Point one:
No matter what company is designing and producing the products, consistency is essential at all times.
Point two:
Their contracts need to be more specific than they’ve ever been. If they don’t tell their partner companies to do something, those companies will not do it.
Every I must be dotted. Every T must be crossed.
Point three:
They need to make the delegation process easy.
If people inside the company are going to send work out to partner companies, it must be simple and friction-free.
Three goals.
He comes to me because he knows the truth:
If he doesn’t use storytelling, those messages won’t land.
So we start with the first one.
David asks me, “What story should we tell?”
And I say, “If I were you, David, here’s the story I would tell…”
Consistency (The Kindergarten Story)
It’s the first day of kindergarten, I tell him. I’m standing on the playground with my five-year-old daughter, Clara.
We don’t know which teacher she will get.
I can see three teachers on the playground.
One is an older woman — a veteran. I know her. She’s not the most joyful human being on Earth, but she’s solid. Dependable. Exactly the person you want running a classroom.
The second teacher is brand-new. Day one. A human being who, at this moment in time, knows absolutely nothing about teaching — but who will work herself to death trying to get everything right. New teachers work harder than anyone alive.
The third is a man — which is unusual for kindergarten — and the only thing I know about him is that he’s also a magician. A literal magician. Not exactly the résumé bullet you hope for when you hand your child over for the day.
But here’s what I do know:
We chose this town for the school system.
The curriculum is consistent.
The training is consistent.
The delivery is consistent.
No matter who Clara gets — veteran, newbie, or magician — she will have an equal educational opportunity.
Clara ends up with the magician.
Oy.
But it’s wonderful. Of course it is, because consistency isn’t about the person — it’s about the system.
When I finish the story, I look at David and say:
“That’s your message. If we want our partner companies delivering equal-quality work, we must build the same kind of consistency that the school system built.”
Then I ask him:
“What’s your consistency story?
Where in your life has consistency been important?”
David says, “I’m just going to use your story. It’s great.”
I ask, “Do you have a kindergarten daughter?”
He says, “No, I have a preschool daughter… but I’ll make it work.”
“But is my story your story?”
He says, “Not really… but I’ll make it real.”
David has a problem.
He’s not a brick builder.
He’s a Band-Aid guy.
He doesn’t do Homework for Life.
He’s not collecting stories.
So he can’t find one at the tip of his tongue the way I can.
For David’s Second Point — Specificity (The Pickle Story)
I tell him the story I would use:
I hate pickles.
I don’t like to be in the room with a pickle.
I don’t like people who like pickles, and my wife likes pickles.
But the worst thing about pickles is that they are the only food item added to your plate without warning.
You order a hot dog and fries, and then they arrive with a giant pickle sitting beside it. And pickles are “radioactive” — if they are on the plate, everyone else on the plate tastes vaguely like a pickle.
So when I order food in a restaurant — almost regardless of what I’m ordering — I tell them to leave the pickles in the kitchen.
That’s what lack of specificity does in contracts.
If you don’t say it clearly, you don’t get it.
You end up with a pickle on your plate.
David says, “I’m going to use your pickle story.”
“Do you hate pickles, too?” I ask.
“I do now. I’m definitely using your story.”
Of course he is.
For The Third Point — Delegation (The Potato Peeler Story)
I tell him about the day I finally got sick of emptying the dishwasher and assigned the chore to my kids.
They did it.
They emptied it.
But later, when I went looking for the potato peeler, it was gone.
Not in the drawer.
Not on the counter.
Not anywhere.
I eventually found it in the junk drawer — because I had never explained where it belonged.
I delegated the job, but not the system. I told my kids to do something, but I didn’t explain how to do it. I assumed they knew.
And that’s why delegation fails in companies, too.
David says, “I’m going to use that story, too.”
Of course he is.
The Business Lesson Beneath the Stories
I came into David’s company to put a Band-Aid on a problem, and I’m happy to do it. But the bigger goal is this:
I don’t want David using my stories — I want him using his.
I want you using yours.
This is the power of speaking through adjacency.
When David’s people see a pickle sitting next to a hot dog a week after listening to him speak, they’ll think about specificity.
When they see a kindergarten teacher (or a magician), they’ll think about consistency.
When they open a junk drawer or peel a potato, they’ll think about delegation.
That’s what a simple story does:
Why These Stories Actually Work
When you speak through your own stories, something powerful happens:
1. Your message becomes sticky.
People forget bullet points. They forget sentences that aren’t attached to image and emotion. But they remember kindergarten teachers, radioactive pickles, and potato peelers in junk drawers.
2. You humanize yourself.
Your team stops seeing “the contract manager” and starts seeing David —
- The guy with a daughter who had a magician for a teacher,
- The guy who hates pickles,
- The guy whose kids hide kitchen tools.
Small personal stories create trust and connection faster than any spreadsheet.
3. You build influence without talking about yourself directly.
You’re not bragging.
You’re not lecturing.
You’re speaking through adjacency — telling a small, true story that reveals who you are while delivering the message you need your people to absorb.
That’s the whole game:
A simple story makes the professional point unforgettable.
If David can learn to collect his own stories, he won’t need mine next time.
And neither will you.
Start Collecting Your Stories
Most leaders are not short on experience.
They’re short on collected experience.
That’s why Homework for Life exists — but the business version is even simpler:
Pay attention to the small moments in your day.
Those moments are gold.
They become teaching tools, persuasion tools, and leadership tools.
Before your next meeting or presentation, ask yourself:
What’s the small, true story that sits next to the message I’m trying to deliver?
Find that story.
Tell it simply.
Connect it back to the point.
Do that, and you’ll watch your team not only understand your message —
But remember it long after the meeting ends.
Want help crafting stories that sell your message?
This pickle story is just one of dozens inside Storyworthy for Business, our training program that teaches leaders how to communicate with clarity, influence, and humanity — without sounding like a TED Talk or a corporate robot.
