What’s the appropriate way to thank a neighbor you just met who spends two long days helping you build a fence and who won’t accept any payment?  That was my quandary.

Bob and Mary Lane have a beautiful picket fence around their modest and well-manicured yard here in Harmony.  My wife saw it and decided it was the perfect fence to keep the grandchildren in our yard, and the deer, wild turkeys, and sand hill cranes out. 

I stopped by Bob’s house one evening to introduce myself and ask about his fence.  He said he built it himself and said if I decided to build one, he would be happy to help, as long as I didn’t ask him to dig the post holes.  He seemed truly genuine and I knew I didn’t have the handyman skills to build a fence myself, so I told him I’d take him up on his offer.

I ordered the materials and called Bob when they arrived.  On the Saturday before Martin Luther King Day, he and my son Paul and I built the fence for several hours.  At his insistence, he returned the following Monday and worked nearly the whole day with us.  His experience and keen eye for detail were invaluable.  I absolutely could not have done it without him.  And if I say so myself, the fence looks great—mostly thanks to Bob.

And what counted for more than building a fence was building a new friendship.  As you might imagine, we told a lot of stories out on the fence line.  There’s something about sharing hard work and stories that turns strangers into friends.But Bob’s generosity was troubling. 

How could I thank and repay someone I only recently met who cheerfully gave not just one but two whole days to help a neighbor in need?  Having them over for dinner was a given, but that wasn’t enough.  Offering money would be insulting, but I had to do something.  Fortunately the answer came to me Monday as we worked. 

In the course of our conversations, Bob told me that they have seven children, including three married daughters who live within a block of their house.  One of those daughters, their middle child Amanda, 33 years old and the mother of a five-year-old daughter, was dying of breast cancer.   She had fought it a couple of years earlier, successfully they thought, but it had returned with a vengeance.  This time it was taking over her whole body.  Fence building, Bob said, was good therapy to get his mind off her plight.

I responded by telling Bob about my 32-year-old mother and her fight against throat cancer.  I told Bob about my mother’s letter, and how it inspired me to develop tools like “Priceless Conversations” to help people like Amanda share love messages with their children, their spouse, and others.  I told Bob about my book, Like a Library Burning.  I told Bob I wanted to repay him in part by helping his daughter share and save her legacy.  From the tears in his eyes, I could tell Bob was touched and grateful for my offer.

Bob left that afternoon with a copy of my book for himself and a copy for Amanda.  The next day I took them three Priceless Conversation tool kits—“My Child” for her daughter Addison, age 5; “Love” for her husband Shawn; and “Legacy” for the rest of her family.  Amanda thanked me and said she would read the questions and call me when she felt well enough to talk.  She also asked some legal and financial questions that I was able to answer for her. 

Sadly, she never called.  Bob phoned last week when I was in Scottsdale and said Amanda and Shawn wanted to see me Tuesday to address some of their legal and financial issues.  He said Amanda had been in constant pain and on medication, and didn’t feel she could complete a Priceless Conversation.

I met with them Tuesday afternoon and discovered a couple of really critical insurance issues that needed immediate attention.  Amanda told me she really wanted to do the Priceless Conversations, especially the one for her daughter, and as soon as she felt a little better, she would do it.  She was afraid her little girl might not remember her very well if she didn’t.

On Wednesday, Bob and I took care of those pressing insurance issues, but Amanda still didn’t feel that she could talk.

At three o’clock Thursday morning, Amanda passed away at home in her sleep. 

*   *   *

Amanda’s death hit me hard.  It hurts that we failed to capture her words and her voice and her stories.  I feel like a frustrated fireman—I rescued the money, but the library burned down while I looked on.  This wasn’t supposed to happen on my watch. 

The family is planning a memorial service on the 28^th of February, which would have been Amanda’s 34^th birthday.  Before then I’ll give Bob and Mary the “Tribute” Priceless Conversation and offer to facilitate it for them when their family is together again.  That will afford them an occasion to remember Amanda and tell their favorite stories about her and save those stories for her daughter.  It’s the least we can do for little Addison; I hope it will be enough.

This morning a friend halfway around the world sent me this link to a five-minute You Tube video.  It is well worth your time to watch it.

 > http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cL9Wu2kWwSY 

The video vividly describes our headlong rush into a future that is faster, more congested, and more technical than anything we have yet imagined.  It ends with the daunting question, “What does it all mean?” 

Like the story of the blind men and the elephant, each who watches the video will discover a different meaning and a different answer.  After all, as Anais Nin wrote, “We see the world not as it is, but as we are.” 

One of the messages I found is that in an increasingly frantic, crowded, and technology-driven world,  there will be an exponentially greater need—and hence unimagined opportunities—for those who understand and practice the healing, connective, and transformative art of storytelling and story listening.   

Technology may race ahead, but the human heart and the human spirit still deeply yearn for a sense of human connection and human meaning.  Those who gracefully and compassionately provide their services within the warmth and security of a story-based environment will always be richly valued and appreciated.  They will touch hearts and change lives.  If they are wise and thoughtful and intentional, they will also be abundantly rewarded for this rare gift and unique set of skills.

These words of George Bernard Shaw inspire me deeply every time I read them.   

This the true joy in life—being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly used out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I can vouch for the veracity of those words, for the times I have felt the greatest joy have been when I have been clear as to my life purpose and have been full of drive and energy—a “force of nature” in Shaw’s words—in achieving that purpose.  I’ve heard it said that “a man all wrapped up in himself makes a pretty small bundle.”  When we find a larger purpose than our own comfort and when we exert ourselves toward achieving it, we stretch ourselves, unwrap that “small bundle,” and stand a little taller.

There is another joy beyond the direct, personal happiness that comes from finding and living our own purpose.  This other joy is the kind that comes from working alongside another who has found their purpose and is stretching themselves to change the world for the better.  When we have played some small part in helping them clarify and live out their purpose, we are able to share in their joy and energy.  We are able to bask in their reflected sunlight.

My sincere conviction is that our greatest potential as professional advisors is not merely to help our clients make more money, pay less taxes, or pass on more of this world’s goods—and I in no way want to imply that these are not valuable skill, for they are—but rather it is help our clients live more joyfully by finding their own “mighty purpose” in which they can become “a force of nature” in their own right.

Over the past few decades, I have learned that Legacy Building and story-based planning are our quickest routes to this vicarious joy.  That’s because in the story sharing that is the heart and soul of this approach to client services, our clients will discover the deeper meaning of their lives and find what makes them truly come alive. 

Harold Whitman has written: “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive.  And then go and do that, because what the world really needs is people who have come alive.” 

To which I would add: The world also needs those who can help others discover what makes them come alive.  My vision is that I can be one of those. 

My upcoming book, Double Your Sales: An Honest and Authentic Approach to Professional Selling, is about relational selling, and it's based on what I consider one of life's simplest yet most valuable secrets: Meaningful relationships depend on creating a credible story of your future together.

If you want to develop a relationship today, you must weave a common story of the future, a shared vision of tomorrow. Strong and lasting relationships belong to those who can create and nourish future mutual stories with others.

With a shared future story, relationships will emerge even in the harshest environment. Without a credible story of a future together, they won't, regardless what other conditions are present. A shared vision of your tomorrow is the sine qua non of every meaningful and ongoing human relationship.

Want proof? Just examine any "relationship" from any aspect of your life, by answering frankly these questions: "Do we share a story of our future together? Is it a story we created jointly? Is our story still lively and vibrant, or is it stale and sickly? Do we work at maintaining and updating it? Does it continue to inspire us both?"

If you answer these questions honestly, it will become glaringly obvious that the quality of any relationship is never better than the quality of the story of your future together. Real relationships are based on a shared future story. It's as simple as that.

So how can you use this secret? You can use this secret in lots of ways, both personally and professionally. You can strengthen your marriage or your bond with children, parents, or siblings by rejuvenating the story of your future together. You can mend a rift with a neighbor, with a co-worker, or in your church. You can "excuse yourself" from a phony and toxic relationship because you can begin to recognize that it has no future.

Knowing this secret will make you more perceptive about relationships in many settings. If you understand this principle, you can easily explain the existence--or non-existence--of long-term relationships everywhere and in every realm: in sales, in employment, in politics, in parenting, in the PTA.

With this secret in mind, you will recognize that without a credible story of a future together, all interactions, whether they are "one and done," or they are a string or series, are transactional, not relational. Two people or groups of people may occupy the same space, be it a home, an office, a business, a community, a political party, or a country, but without the presence of a shared future story, they are just cohabiting; they are not in a meaningful relationship.

And here's the best news of all. Once you know the secret, you'll see that it's not complicated to create a new relationship or to revive an old one. All you have to do is create and nourish the story of your mutual future.

This one simple secret can turn your business completely around. Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you can't make a living from your friends, you surely can't make one from your enemies." Or said another way, friends make better customers than enemies. And what is a friend? It's someone with whom you share a credible story of a mutual future.

If you can develop relationships with prospective customers by creating a story of your future together, they will buy from you and they will buy more from you.

My aim is to teach professionals like you how to do that comfortably, consistently, and compellingly in conversations with prospective customers. By mastering the art of building a credible story of a future together, you can double your sales easily, honestly, and authentically.

Let me say right up front that this is not a political commentary. This is a commentary about how to communicate more effectively, more persuasively, through a certain style of story, what I call the “New Me Story” or the “Transformation Story.”

Like 40 million other people, I watched John McCain’s speech at the Republican convention, and although I support him politically, I was not impressed with his presentation. Not impressed, that is, except for one part near the end, when he told the story of how the direction and focus of his life was changed.

If you missed it, Senator McCain described how his experience as a POW, and in particular the brutality he endured after he refused his captors’ offer of an early release, changed him from a hot-headed, self-centered, Top-Gun punk into a person whose mission in life is to put service to his country about all else. This, he said, was the defining event of his life and this is what drives him to want to serve his country as its president.

Of course the facts of his capture and torture are well-known, so he wasn’t saying anything new, in one sense. But in another sense, this was an entirely new narrative which he had never shared before in public. For me, this brief segment of his speech made all the difference in the impact of his message. For me, it gave a compelling explanation for why he wants the job, and how he’ll treat the job differently than previous presidents or current candidates. Shots of people in the convention audience wiping away or fighting back tears confirmed that I was not the only one affected by his account.

So how was it that this story worked and worked so powerfully?

The answer: it was not the events of the story but the way it was told. It was a classic “New Me Story” or “Transformation Story,” one of the skills and tools I have long taught in SunBridge, in Mastering the High-End Close, and in Professional Story Selling. And whether you agree or disagree with John McCain’s politics, you really should re-listen to that little piece of his speech after you read this. See if you can identify the structure he used in telling the story, which caused an old, well-known story to have such impact.

The “New Me Story” is very simple and has four parts:

1. The Old Me: This is who I used to be.
2. The Transforming Event: This is what happened to me that sparked a change.
3. My Reaction and Response: This is how I first reacted; then this is how it caused a deeper change.
4. The New Me: This is who I have now become, and this is how I am now more able to help you.

John McCain followed this format to a “T” and the result was a transforming experience for his audience. It’s a skill set great communicators have learned to master.

If you want to put punch and sparkle into your workshops and speeches, or if you want to transform the way prospects and clients see you when you sit down in an engagement meeting with them and they make the decision to hire you or not, you need to create, practice, and tell your own “New Me Story.” You may or may not have a transforming event as dramatic as John McCain’s, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ve experienced real life, and real life has changed you, and as a result you’re better equipped to help them deal with their real-life issues. The result is the same: you’re more authentic, you’re more trustworthy, you’re more valuable to them. You’re much more likely to get hired, at a higher fee.

More about the power of story is available in my new book “Like a Library Burning: Sharing and Saving a Lifetime of Stories,” which I wrote with Peggy Hoyt. (Visit www.LikeaLibraryBurning.com.) Peggy and I will be teaching a break-out session at the National Network Collegium in San Diego on September 26, 2008, on how to use the power of story to build your business. You’re invited to come and learn more.

If I can be of further assistance, please give me a call at 407-593-2386.
Scott

A smart business recognizes that every client relationship can—and should—go through five distinct phases. One of the keys to success in business is being mindful of these phases and creating an appropriate process for each phase of those relationships. This is particularly true for each of us as we work to weave Legacy Building into our business. We must recognize each one of these phases and consciously determine whether and how we will utilize Legacy Building in each phase of our relationship with each client.

With each client relationship, there exists the potential of five distinct phases. Here are The Five Phases of Client Relationships^TM:

1. Client Attraction
2. Client Engagement
3. Client Service
4. Client Retention
5. Multigenerational Client Engagement

To maximize value, a business must develop and refine a unique process for each separate phase. Sadly, not every business fully develops each phase of each relationship, and as a result, significant revenue and other value are lost for the business. In addition, when the business is not sufficiently mindful of each distinct phase, the workers in the business are likely to be unclear about how to develop each client relationship to its greatest potential.

The purpose of this brief article is not to fully explore all the possibilities of applying this concept to our respective businesses. That would probably require a rather large book. Instead, it is to call to your attention that these five phases do exist, and that Legacy Building can play a role in each one. At this stage of your development, given the limits of your time and resources, it may not be feasible to create unique Legacy Builder components in your processes in each phase. You need to identify where the low-hanging fruit can be found in your client work, and, for the present, devote your time and resources to that phase. Over time, Legacy Building will become a consistent and significant element in each phase of your business for those clients who find it valuable. But unless you pick your spots in the early going, you will spread your resources too thin, and you will become frustrated at your lack of progress.

Let me be more specific by using an example of an estate planning attorney who is a passionate, dedicated member of the Legacy Builder Network. Based on the training she received at the Legacy Builder Retreat and the further development of her skills and tools, there are many, many ways she might weave Legacy Building into her practice.

First, she might use Legacy Building in her marketing, that is, in the Client Attraction Phase of her business. This could be through presentations to groups, clubs, and even in her own workshops. This could be through creating great referral relationships by helping her referral sources with their personal legacy building (such as doing Priceless Conversation interviews with the CPAs and financial advisors who send her business.) This could also be through writing articles for local papers and other publications about Legacy Building. This could be through using the Meaning of Success interview to come in contact with successful people in her community. The possibilities are virtually endless.

Second, she could use Legacy Building to transform prospects into clients, that is, in the Client Engagement Phase of her business. For example, she might conduct the Meaning of Money conversation with prospects to help deepen the relationship between them and motivate them to hire her as their estate planner. She might ask select prospects to watch the Lighthouse DVD in her conference room before they meet with her, to help them understand that she has a different perspective of what quality planning looks like. She might use the Legacy Circle in her initial engagement meeting to discover what each client is most interested in. She might use stories in that meeting to demonstrate what an impact Legacy Building planning can have on children and grandchildren. Again, there is any number of possibilities.

Third, she could use Legacy Building as part of her core business, that is, in the Client Service Phase of her business. She could ask clients to bring a brown paper bag, or pictures and heirlooms, to her design session. She could use a “Priceless Objects, Important Stories” worksheet in place of a standard “Personal Property Memorandum.” She could include an “Our Kids” interview as part of her standard package for each couple with children under 18, or an “Our Values” interview as part of her process for all grandparents. Her “Big Red Book” binder of estate planning documents could include special tabs and sections about Legacy Building issues. Once more, there are tons of options.

Fourth, she could use Legacy Building to add spice and zest to her ongoing client membership or maintenance program, that is, the Client Retention Phase of her business. Her clients would probably enjoy watching the Lighthouse DVD at the annual client meeting, or sharing the “My House” activity there. Her clients would greatly appreciate being able to complete a new Priceless Conversation each year, to be added to their ever-growing “Legacy Library.” Her clients would cherish “The Treasure Chest Game” (a.k.a. Tapping into Your Wisdom) as a special gift for an important birthday or anniversary. Certain of her clients would find huge value in using the “Book of Life” to review their life and prepare an oral or written story of their life. She would likely find dozens of other ways to enliven her services to her existing clients.

Fifth, she could use Legacy Building to draw business from family members of her clients, that is, in the Multigenerational Client Engagement Phase of her business. Her clients probably couldn’t stop talking to their parents, brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren about her amazing ability to incorporate the most important human elements into her planning, not just the money. Her clients’ relatives would hear her voice and see her address on all the Priceless Conversations interviews she had conducted with them. Her clients would include her in family meetings to explain the planning she had done for them. Some of her clients would even insist that she do planning for their children and grandchildren, so that the younger generations’ planning would be integrated with the older generation’s plans. In a myriad of ways, her business would grow (both for herself and her successor) from her Legacy Building work with her clients.

Yet, while she can see that Legacy Building can dramatically transform virtually every aspect of her work with clients, she is smart enough to know that, given her available time and resources, she cannot tweak that many moving parts all at once. She has to decide where she will achieve the greatest results right away and start there. Once she has that part up and running, she can shift her focus to other phases and other applications. She knows that, like the launch of the Space Shuttle, getting off the launch pad is the hardest and most energy-consuming part of any journey and that future progress will be much easier because of her momentum. Ultimately, she wants to change all her client relationships to include Legacy Building in every phase. But for now, she knows to focus on first things first.

If you’ve read Chapter 7 of Like a Library Burning by Scott Farnsworth and Peggy Hoyt, you understand that presently the best financial planning, estate planning, funeral planning, and philanthropic planning out there is “story-based planning.” At its core, The SunBridge Legacy Builder Network is all about story-based planning, because the essence of Legacy Building is sharing and saving stories. If you thoughtfully evaluate each component of the SunBridge Legacy Builder mind-set, skill-set, tool-set, and support-set, you will find they’re each about how to effectively, efficiently, and elegantly share and save stories. For all the dozens of reasons set forth in Like a Library Burning, sharing and saving stories is one of the most important things we can do for our clients, our clients’ loved ones, and ourselves.

As I wrote in the May 2008 blog (A New Breed of Planner), I believe the best advisors are those who are able to engage their clients on the story level and then use the insights and understandings gleaned in that exchange to build technically brilliant plans that reflect the values, personalities, fears, dreams, wisdom, and life-learning of their clients and their families. To do anything less is to grossly short-change and over-charge them, and to rob ourselves of the core reason we got into this business in the first place: to make a difference in the lives of those we serve.

Once you get that concept, you immediately recognize that Legacy Building or “story-based planning” should not be merely an add-on to your planning process. It’s not a quaint set of activities you stick into a workshop or a cute set of steps you append to the “real work” of estate planning or financial services. To the contrary, it is the heart and soul of good human-centered planning. It is not only what we do, but also who we are as we work with our clients.

To do that, we must move beyond story-based planning. The next step on this journey is what I call “story-based planning in a Thinking Environment®.” To become the most effective Legacy Builder advisor—and hence the best financial advisor or estate planner on the planet—you must not only master the art and science of story, you must also master Time to Think.

Thinking Environment principles, properly implemented, add incredible energy and impact to your story skills. With Time to Think under your belt, you can know which stories to tell and when, you can help your clients share their stories more effectively, and you can better understand their stories as they share them with you.

What I have learned from listening to Nancy Kline (creator of the Time-To-Think process) and then applying her message to my work with clients is that the most powerful planning occurs in a four-way confluence of expertise: 1) the planner’s technical training and experience; 2) the planner’s mastery of the art and science of story; 3) the clients’ unparalleled expertise about their world and their life; and 4) the planner’s skill at creating a Thinking Environment within which the other skills are at their best. When these four streams of expertise come together, magic happens and brilliance explodes in the room. The outcomes are unimaginable. There’s simply nothing like it in the world.

When a technically competent professional advisor who has mastered the art and science of story is also able to be a Thinking Environment in the presence of clients, the very best thinking, the very best stories, and the very best discernment about the meaning within those stories are available to push the planning to its human and technical zenith. Both the analytical and intuitive sides are fully honored, completely addressed, and elegantly woven into the finest possible result. When you’re working at that level, if feels as if each person involved is a genius and every product is a masterpiece. Which indeed they are!

Some day in the not-too-distant future, clients will insist on working only with planners who have the capability to bring these four skill-sets to the table. I plan on being there, and I invite you to join me.

From my vantage point, I believe we are witnessing the budding of a fresh, new model of planning and the appearance of a brand-new breed of advisor who is capable of working with clients in a revolutionary new way. And yet, while I call it “fresh” and “brand-new” and “revolutionary,” it is really as old as human communication. It is financial planning and estate planning based on our native language of story. I have not only envisioned the possibilities but have also experienced them, and I’m happy to report they are very tantalizing, both for clients and advisors.

I believe there are exceptional advantages for families and individual clients who work with financial advisors and estate planners who personally understand the power and importance of sharing and saving stories, and who have the skills and tools to elegantly and seamlessly weave a story-based approach to client services into their handling of the more traditional elements of planning such as investments, insurance, taxes, legal documents, public benefits, charitable giving, and the like.

Traditional financial services and estate planning, with their emphasis on numbers, formulas, tax codes, legal minutiae, and other “hard” issues, are not usually thought of as being naturally compatible with the “soft” issues of stories. Some in these fields tend to pooh-pooh the notion that story has much, if any, relevance to what they do. Story to them is just “warm and fuzzy,” “touchy-feely” kind of stuff.

But I don’t think there is a conflict between good technical skill and good story skills. I think both are essential to good results.

We believe those planners who look down their noses at story skills run the risk of creating glorious, gleaming plans that are technically correct but inside are empty shells because they fail to connect with the human dimension of planning. As a result of not checking carefully with the people involved, their ladders of “successful” plans end up leaning against the wrong walls, to borrow Covey’s metaphor. Like the Alaskan congressman’s ultimate earmark boondoggle, they design and build the financial or estate planning equivalents of “the bridge to nowhere.”

Good technical expertise and good story skills are both required to do the job right and to do the right job. I had an experience several years ago that illustrates this point. The names and some of the non-material details have been changed to protect the client’s identity.

Mr. Jacobs came to see our firm when he was 88 years old. With an estate worth approximately $9 million, he was looking down the barrel of an estate tax of about $5 million, largely because of some botched planning that had previously been done for him.

After reviewing the situation, I asked Mr. Jacobs if he were open to the idea of charitable giving. He was. “I’ve been a lifelong member of Rotary, and I’d be happy to donate $2,000. My deceased wife was an active member of a sewing club. I could give them $3,000 in her memory.”

I decided to save the discussion of charitable giving for another time. Instead, I started getting to know Mr. Jacobs. He was a good man with a remarkable story. It seems he had grown up and spent his long life on two pieces of ground. Born in upstate New York, he had lived on a farm there until his family moved when he was 10. They bought a small farm near the town of Ocoee, where he had lived ever since.

He’d certainly had his share of misfortune. As a boy in New York, he had lost an eye in a farming accident. He also had had polio, so one of his legs was withered, and he walked with a pronounced limp. He had been married for many years, but his wife had passed away about five years before I met him. He had one child, a daughter in her mid-50s who had not fulfilled any particular ambitions, and still waited tables at a local all-you-can-eat restaurant. She had two children, a son and a daughter, both in their early 20s at the time. Both were heavily involved with illicit drug use. The son had been arrested for dealing drugs for his father, Mr. Jacobs’ ex-son-in-law, who was serving time in a federal prison. Mr. Jacobs’ granddaughter also was pregnant; Mr. Jacobs did not know who the father might be.

In view of all this, and understandably, while Mr. Jacobs wanted to make sure that his child’s and his grandchildren’s needs were met, he certainly had no intention of leaving them $9 million. Mr. Jacobs had worked hard all his life. When he was a teenager, he and his father had built a service station on their property, which Mr. Jacobs had operated since he was 18. He told me interesting stories about sleeping in the station all night, so in case a car drove by he would be there to sell them a quarter’s worth of gas. At one point, he owned his own tanker truck, and worked in the station all day, and drove a tanker to Tampa, which in those days, took four or five hours, filled up, drove back, and worked all day taking care of customers.

Ocoee, where Mr. Jacobs lived, might fairly be described as a stepchild of Orange County—a town with a hard luck story much like Mr. Jacobs’. In the early 1920s, there had been a race riot there on Election Day. Several people were killed—an incident that had stigmatized the town and still cast a shadow over it even these many years later. Early in the Great Depression, the town lost its bank, leaving it no source of lending for businesses looking to put down roots and grow there. Mr. Jacobs told me that he knew a number of merchants who went to the bank of a nearby town seeking a loan, and were refused because the bank did not want to support businesses that would compete with those in its own town.

Mr. Jacobs chose to use this setback as an opportunity. In the 60s, he and a few Rotary Club buddies opened a bank in Ocoee. He donated the property on which the bank was built. One merger followed another until eventually Mr. Jacobs’ investments of land for the bank had returned the current value of his estate—$9 million.

Mr. Jacobs and I spent a good bit of time together. I helped him capture and articulate some of these stories. I wanted to make sure that, in addition to protecting the financial resources he had, we also preserved the rest of his wealth—who he was, what he had learned, and the values that have guided him to his hard-won wisdom, and ensure that these somehow would be passed along intact to those who would follow him, even though, at the time, they did not seem particularly interested in what he had to say.

As we talked one afternoon, I was struck by an insight into what might be important for Mr. Jacobs. He was describing his friendships and associations with citizens of Ocoee, his adopted hometown, and it suddenly seemed clear to me that this was the key. “Mr. Jacobs,” I asked, “what would you think if we could take the money in your estate that otherwise would go to the IRS, and instead direct it into an account that you and those you trust could dispense for projects in Ocoee?”

He looked at me and asked, “What do you mean?”

“We could take the money that otherwise would have to be paid in taxes, and see to it that it was spent to improve the town and the lives of the people there.” 

He was intrigued. “Give me an example,” he said, leaning forward. 

“Well,” I said, “suppose that the elementary school needed new playground equipment. We could take some of the money that we had set aside in a special fund—one that you and those you trust could control—and buy the equipment. If the girls needed a new softball field to play on, you could finance its construction. If you just wanted to make the Christmas parade extra special one-year, you could direct funds to do just that.”

Mr. Jacobs’s eyes grew wide; I could see he was imagining the possibilities. “We could do that?” he asked.

“Indeed, we could. And it wouldn’t take away anything from your family, because the money we’d be using to set up the fund would otherwise just have gone to the government.”

Mr. Jacobs sat back in his chair with a deeply satisfied grin. “This is exciting,” he said, and a new mood of enthusiasm came over him. He was already planning what he would do with the money.

Rather than giving $2,000 to the Rotary Club or $3.000 to his wife’s sewing circle, Mr. Jacobs ended up contributing $5 million. The money was used, as we had discussed, to create a fund to benefit the city of Ocoee—a fund that would be controlled by him and those he trusted, and be used expressly to support worthwhile community projects for that town, in keeping with the things that Mr. Jacobs felt were most important. With his wife gone, and appropriate arrangements made to care for his child and grandchildren, his remaining great love was the town of Ocoee. The difference that this advising made for him and for the citizens of Ocoee may well extend beyond the foreseeable future, benefiting countless generations to come.

I believe the best advisors are those who are able to engage their clients on the story level and then use the insights and understandings gleaned in that exchange to build technically brilliant plans that reflect the values, personalities, fears, dreams, wisdom, and life-learning of their clients and their families.

Whether you call it “Our Firm’s Story” or “The Story of My Practice” or “My Personal Introduction,” every successful advisor must be able to crisply and credibly relate a personal Transformation Story. It’s one of the key pieces in meeting prospects and engaging clients. It can make all the differences between a thriving, vibrant business and one that barely squeaks by.

Your Transformation Story is powerful for several reasons. First, it makes you more human. People can relate to you because they know that the real world is about dealing with change in a constantly changing world. When they see that you have experienced life in real terms, that you’re not just simply a figurehead, a plastic person, somebody with a title and a bunch of letters behind your name, they can relate to you as a real person.

It’s also an effective way for them to connect with you. We feel connected to the people whose stories we have listened to and who have listened to our stories. By hearing your story, they feel more comfortable telling you theirs. By opening up to them, they are invited to open up to you. Your authentic sharing makes it easier for them to share genuinely with you.

Another very important benefit of the transformation story is that it gives permission and encouragement for them to change. When we approach prospects about working with us, we are asking them to change, to change from being a prospect to a client; to change from not having a plan to having a plan. The story of our transformation is a subtle and powerful way to say, “I’ve changed, and it’s okay for you to change too.” While the message will never be spoken by you in those terms, nonetheless they will understand it in those terms.

Finally, telling a Transformation Story is an amazing way of shifting the dynamic of an advisor/client meeting. Most clients come to an advisor’s office feeling intimidated, guarded, skeptical, and worried about fees. They’re very much on the left side of their brain because they’re going to have to process some complicated information. People who are in the left side of the brain, in analytical or critical mode, are much less likely to move forward. That’s because virtually every major decision we’ve made in our lives—whether to buy this house or to move or to marry or to go to that college—was decided on an intuitive level, on the right side of the brain. Then it was justified on the left side of the brain. So, if you want your clients to make the transformation from prospect to client or from ordinary client to exceptional client, you need to address the right side of the brain. And you do that best by shifting the conversation into story-sharing mode. You can do that most easily by telling a story about yourself—your Transformation Story.

The structure of your Transformation Story is deceptively simple. It has four key steps: Step number one is that you describe what I call “the old you.” You briefly describe the way you used to be, setting up the transformation that will soon follow in the story. Thus your listener is able to see you and the setting in which you were operating. It’s important to set that anchor first, because people need to know and identify with the person who was “the old you.”

Step two is the transforming event. Something happened that rattled your world and shook up the status quo. It may have been an earth-shattering, life-changing event like a major disaster, a serious illness, or even the death of a loved one. Or it could have been something subtle, something cumulative that built up over time, like the feeling that enough is finally enough. Some times, it’s only the last straw. But whether it was large and dramatic, or small but irritating, it put the protagonist of the story in a bind and created a tension that had to be dealt with.

Step three is the response. You reacted—perhaps badly at first—to the transforming event. It makes a more interesting story if the protagonist (which in this case is you) initially pushes back, reacts badly, doesn’t handle well the change that has been thrown his way. It’s important that you share that less-than-perfect side of yourself, because that shows you to be more human because as humans, we naturally resist change. But ultimately your better self took over and you became a much better, more qualified, competent person.

And that lead to step number four, which I call “the new you.” As a result of the way you responded to the transforming event, you became a different person, someone much better qualified to help the prospect or client address the concerns and problems that they have.

This very basic pattern can be used to narrate a very powerful story. But, while the story is told in this sequence, it is created by approaching the four steps in a different order. You tell the story in order: step one, step two, step three, then step four. By contrast, when you sit down to design your story, you use a different sequence. To create a great Transformation Story, you’re going to first identify who you are today. You’re going to recognize which attributes you want to emphasize to the client. That’s the new you. Next, you’re going to decide which event in your life played a key role in helping you become that kind of person. After that, you’re going to focus on how you responded to the transforming event, both negatively and positively. Finally, you’re gong to clarify who you used to be before the event happened, before the transformation occurred.

Your Transformation Story has to be told quickly. Typically the prospect’s only going to allow you about three minutes, even if it’s an interesting story. Hence, you need to write out the pieces of the story and polish it. I would suggest you take a piece of paper and identify in writing the characteristics you want to project to the client: Who are you and what makes you uniquely qualified to help them? Who is “the new you?” Next, write down what changed you. Go back in your memory and think about which events are causes for your becoming that kind of a person. You’ll be surprised at how many triggers there could have been. Find one’s that interesting and has a human believability to it. If it’s big and dramatic, that’s good. If it’s only small but believable, that’s still okay because we know that even small things can drive us to make major changes. Then think about and write how you reacted and ultimately changed in response to the event you identified. Finally, write down a description of who you used to be before all this change occurred.

Once you’ve written it out, it’s important to start telling the story. You might start by just telling it to yourself, maybe into a recorder for the first time or two. Then find somebody who is willing to give you a listening ear and good feedback. Say to them, “I’m working on telling a story about how I’ve changed and I wonder if you would listen to this story and then give me some response.” Tell them the story and then listen to what they say. As you practice, remember a few important points: The story has to be believable, it must be interesting, and it must be short. It doesn’t have to be perfect before you tell it to a client. In fact, the very best practice you get is simply telling it to clients and seeing how they respond. Over time, the story’s going to get better and better as you learn which words to use to help your listeners connect with you and visualize the events you are describing.

Before you know it, you’ll start seeing what I call “the connecting look” in the eyes of prospects and clients, as they “get it.” They understand you, they like you, and they want to work with you. It’s a magical moment for both of you.

I was recently coaching the Chairman of the Board of Directors of a large hospital network in the Midwest. He was struggling with how to get his board to see the vision and come alive to a series of bold initiatives for improving patient care. Nothing he could think of seemed to generate in them the kind of energy and excitement he felt. I suggested he tap into the power of story to help his colleagues appreciate the potential impact of their efforts. I asked him this question: “When you finish this project, what stories do you want patients to be telling about your hospitals?” In answering my question, his mind and his spirit literally leaped with excitement. And furthermore, he knew clearly how to energize his board.

Last summer, I was speaking to an estate-planning conference in Washington, D.C. The group has a reputation for being technically astute and very analytical. I wanted them to understand how much value they were leaving on the table, both for themselves and their clients, if they failed to combine Legacy Building with their technical expertise. I asked them a variation of the same question that had worked so well with my Chairman of the Board client. I asked them to think silently for a minute or two about this question:

“When your days as an estate planner are over, what stories do you want your clients to be telling about you?”

At first, they were fidgety and resisted considering the question in silence. But I insisted and they finally settled into reflection. After a couple of minutes, I asked them to share their thoughts with a colleague. Their tones were thoughtful and subdued. I asked a few to share their thoughts with the whole group. What they had discovered in their thoughtfulness was that what they really wanted to be remembered for was their kindness, their wisdom, and their ability to make a difference in the lives of their clients.

Let me invite you to reflect on the same question: When your days as a financial advisor or insurance expert or estate planner—or whatever it is you do—are over, what stories do you want your clients to be telling about you?

My good friend, Richard Stone wrote in The Healing Power of Storytelling that “[a]t the end of our lives, all that is left of us is our story.” He also quotes a Native American tradition: “As long as someone is still telling your story, you’re really still alive.”

Ultimately, our work as advisors is about helping clients tell and pass along their stories. If we’re lucky, our clients will also ask us to help them change the way those stories turn out. Not much else compares to the importance and fulfillment of that work.