Seasons greetings- or how to offend people before the year's even begun

In case you hadn't noticed, it's nearly Christmas. I say you might not have noticed because in London, by this stage of December, most people are living on a diet of champagne and Berocca, with lunch sliding via a few office mince pies into a dinner where everyone seems to be wearing the same semi-ironic Santa hat procured from some dodgy stall on Oxford Street. But this being Paris, a few tasteful lights have gone up near the local mairie, your office colleagues will be grumbling that they have to use up some of their obscenely large holiday allowance to go shopping for presents, and otherwise it's business as usual.

That is, apart from the cartes de voeux. In a country that tends to do things the right way round when it comes to religion (no RE lessons at school: lots of public holidays for religious festivals) the end of year cards are something of an institution.

And so, a large pile arrived on my desk last week. Corporately tasteful, carefully avoiding any potentially offensive allusion to religion, they sat there accusingly while I tried to work out who should benefit from my seasonal wishes.

What I hadn't banked on was the steady trickle of colleagues asking me what they should write in their cards. It began last Wednesday. "I want to say, 'Que cette nouvelle année vous apporte la réussite dans tout ce que vous entreprenez, que le bonheur soit au rendez-vous dans vos cœurs et dans ceux de vos proches.' How do you say this in English?"

You don't. You really don't. If you were to write to a business contact that you hoped they succeeded in everything they undertook, and that happiness would reign in their hearts and those of their loved ones, they would probably never work with you again on the grounds you had clearly gone bonkers. 

Day two wasn't much better. "Que cette année soit pour vous source de réussites et de joies" is marginally less verbose, but wishing that next year will be a source of success and many joys seems to imply your contact may be expecting twins.

When I explain this, people are puzzled and disappointed.
-"But what should I say instead?
-Merry Christmas.
-Can it not be a little longer and nicer?
-How about, 'Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year'?"

They don't believe me. I may even lose my crown as oracle-of-all-things-English. And I haven't even written my own cards yet. Maybe I'll wish my English contacts a 2013 that rhymes with prosperity, health and joy and my French contacts seasons greetings. Then I won't have to send any next year.

Is a picture really worth a thousand words?

I’m about to say something that threatens my employability, or at least the figure in front of the zeros on my payslip each month. Design is more important than words. You can write the sharpest prose imaginable: if it’s badly presented, it will look sloppy and unprofessional.

Of course the reverse is also true: stylish design spattered with verbose nonsense smacks of all fur coat and no knickers. But it at least has the advantage that it looks ok from a distance.

I got to thinking about this because a designer friend of mine pointed out that while she likes what I write, she finds the black background makes it difficult to read the words. In a blog about communicating clearly, I’ve committed the cardinal sin of letting the design get in the way of the message.

I have a feeble excuse for this: it’s because I couldn’t think of a suitable picture to put at the top. The problem is that pictures come with immediate associations. A word’s meaning can be fluid, capricious, bent to the context it’s used in, in combination with other words. A picture leaps out of the screen and claims the meaning for itself. For this blog (broadly Anglo-French, focusing on language, corporate communication and translation) a picture of lots of flags might do the trick – except that flags make you think of politics. A picture of London? Finance. Paris? One of those blogs about Anglo-Saxons discovering smelly cheese and sexy people. Tower of Babylon? Too academic, un-corporate.

Bad design is worse than no design at all. It can cheapen, distort or constrict in a way that the odd badly-chosen adjective cannot. It plays the lead role in forming the reader’s first impression (and given that in the age of social media most people have the attention span of a gnat, this may well turn out to be the only impression they form.) And yes, I know there’s no such thing as “no design” – the minute you choose Helvetica over Arial or white background over black, you become a designer – but let’s say the potential for gaffes is lower than if you start sticking your holiday snaps at the top of the page.

Of course design is about more than pictures – the very best design is so much an extension of the structure and essence of the message that the user barely notices it. But I’m definitely not there yet. So if you think of a decent picture and a nice background colour I can use, please let me know.

“Do you speak Globlish?” (or the perils of phrasal verbs)

This week’s post was supposed to be a Part Two of last week’s musings on corporate storytelling, but I’ve been sidetracked. After spending much of the last three days developing an internal video project aimed at our managers around the world, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what type of English you need to use for a global audience.

The problem raised its ugly head early on in the process. The film involves a dozen or so employees – French, Italian, Indian, German and British - delivering lines to camera. Most of the people watching it will not speak English as a first language. If this sounds something like the joke about an Englishman, an Italian and a Frenchman walk into a bar, that’s because it is.

Most discussions on the ‘type’ of English to use in corporate communications are variations on the age-old British versus American English debate. Everyone has their own rules. Mine is that if your audience is Western Europe, go with British; if you’re widening it out to the rest of Europe, American wins out marginally; and if your audience is global, then only American will do. Above all, choose one and stick to it: there’s nothing more irritating to a linguistic pedant than a piece of writing schizophrenically spattered with ‘z’s and ‘s’s. It’s one of the reasons I hate the Paris metro.

In fact the real language of international English is not American English at all. It’s Globlish. Using American English as a starting point, you need to eliminate all the vocabulary and structures that get in the way of a non-native speaker understanding what you’re trying to say. At a basic level, this means getting rid of cultural references masquerading as words. (For example, the French describe sticky tape as “Scotch”. The English call it “Sellotape”. Why? Because the two rival brands got a foothold in each country at a different time). You also need to shorten sentences – although this is good practice anyway. But the real holy grail is complete elimination of phrasal verbs.

You may not even have heard of phrasal verbs if you’re a native speaker. When you were growing up, you probably got away with learning no grammar, looking up the odd term in the dictionary when you were looking to impress someone, and generally you’d get away with it.

As a non-native speaker… well, after years of painstaking study, you probably still wouldn’t understand that last sentence.

Make up, run out, set up… English is full of dastardly combinations of deceptively simple verbs and prepositions which mean something entirely different when strung together. So whereas passing out might be the unfortunate consequence of a typically British bout of binge-drinking, passing away is altogether more serious.

As a global communicator you need to banish these words from your vocabulary. This is very hard, because most native speakers, when urged to make things simple, fall back on Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, which is mainly made up of… that’s right, phrasal verbs. It’s one of the irritating reasons that foreigners often understand other foreigners speaking English better than they understand the real thing. To speak Globlish is to tread the fine dividing line between straightforward, simple English and the easy Latinate alternatives – “tolerate” instead of “put up with” for example - that, used excessively, will catapult your writing into a bizarre Franglish translation.

How not to tell your corporate story: the sausage factory test

I went to an event the other night where someone asked what my company did. I started trotting out the standard spiel before I realised, after 30 seconds, their eyes had glazed over. I stopped. "You see that chair? Whether or not it's safe to sit on - the material, the design, the way it's put together - will have been checked by one of the engineers from my company. Not only that, but the boat it arrived in from China, the factory it was made in, and the working conditions of the people who made it, will also have been checked by us. In fact, pretty much everything you use, every day, will have been checked by someone from my company or a company like it".

I can't pretend this flash of inspiration started an in-depth conversation about the values of conformity assessment. However it did get me thinking just how badly most companies tell their corporate stories.

Most companies grasp the idea that the homepage of the corporate website is not the place for a 1000-word essay on the intricacies of their business model and the complex drivers behind their markets. They understand that you should be able to say what you want to say in a couple of sentences. Yet when they put pen to paper, any real explanation of what they do, or the value it brings to their customers tends to go out of the window. I came across the following example in the About Us section of a FTSE100 company the other day:

“We are a leading global company that continues to be financially, operationally and strategically strong, and poised for growth".

All well and good, but it gives absolutely no indication of who they are or what they do. The second sentence continues:

“We strive to foster a culture that values and rewards exemplary ethical standards, personal and corporate integrity and respect for others".

Other than the rather questionable assumption that a giant corporation should be handing out brownie points for personal integrity, the main problem with this sentence is that you have no idea whether the people in question are miners, bankers or hairdressers. In fact this is a classic example of a company description that fails the all-important “sausage factory test”.

There are two versions of the sausage factory test. Level One is where without changing any of the words, you could use the same description to describe a sausage factory. In the case of the company above, it would have to be a fairly international sort of sausage factory, perhaps also producing frankfurters and chorizo, and maybe even the odd andouillette, but it definitely stands.

Level Two is where by changing just a couple of words – usually a list of the company’s products or services – you could use the description to describe a sausage factory. Another FTSE100 company – coincidentally one of the first company’s competitors offers:

“X is a Chilean-based copper mining group with interests in transport and water distribution. It is listed on the London Stock Exchange and has been a constituent of the FTSE-100 index since 2004.”

Swap “sausages” for “copper mining” and “pizza and chips” for “transport and water distribution” and….well, you get the picture.

Level Three is where the description does tell you what the company does, but is so packed with generic (sausage factory) words – leading, major, global, plus a string of ultimately meaningless list of figures describing the turnover or number of employees- that you sense an opportunity has been lost to tell the real story. In fact as most companies make it past Levels One and Two, Level Three is the one you really need to worry about. Take the following description from the homepage of a CAC40 company:

“X is the world’s leading steel and mining company. Guided by a philosophy to produce safe, sustainable steel, it is the leading supplier of quality steel products in all major markets including automotive, construction, household appliances and packaging. X operates in 60 countries and employs about 260,000 people worldwide.”

You may think this is unfair. If you’re not Coca-Cola or Apple, in an unglamorous sector and with an unevocative name, surely you need to shout from the rooftops that you’re the biggest and best in what you do? My suggestion is don’t blacklist adjectives of the “mine is bigger than yours” variety, or key figures, but attach a warning bell on each: think what you’re trying to say, and whether it really adds anything.

And for those of you who are thinking, “that’s all very well, but what would you put in its place”, the next post will be about how to tell your story once you’ve sat the sausage factory test.

ing out the standard spiel before I realised, after 30 seconds, their eyes had glazed over. I stopped. "You see that chair? Whether or not it's safe to sit on - the material, the design, the way it's put together - will have been checked by one of the engineers from my company. Not only that, but the boat it arrived in from China, the factory it was made in, and the working conditions of the people who made it, will also have been checked by us. In fact, pretty much everything you use, every day, will have been checked by someone from my company or a company like it".

I can't pretend this flash of inspiration started an in-depth conversation about the values of conformity assessment. However it did get me thinking just how badly most companies tell their corporate stories.

Most companies grasp the idea that the homepage of the corporate website is not the place for a 1000-word essay on the intricacies of their business model and the complex drivers behind their markets. They understand that you should be able to say what you want to say in a couple of sentences. Yet when they put pen to paper, any real explanation of what they do, or the value it brings to their customers tends to go out of the window. I came across the following example in the About Us section of a FTSE100 company the other day:

"We are a leading global company that continues to be financially, operationally and strategically strong, and poised for growth".

All well and good, but it gives absolutely no indication of who they are or what they do. The second sentence continues:

"We strive to foster a culture that values and rewards exemplary ethical standards, personal and corporate integrity and respect for others".

Other than the rather questionable assumption that a giant corporation should be handing out brownie points for personal integrity, the main problem with this sentence is that you have no idea whether the people in question are miners, bankers or hairdressers. In fact this is a classic example of a company description that fails the all-important “sausage factory test”.

There are two versions of the sausage factory test. Level One is where without changing any of the words, you could use the same description to describe a sausage factory. In the case of the company above, it would have to be a fairly international sort of sausage factory, perhaps also producing frankfurters and chorizo, and maybe even the odd andouillette, but it definitely stands.

Level Two is where by changing just a couple of words – usually a list of the company’s products or services – you could use the description to describe a sausage factory. Another FTSE100 company – coincidentally one of the first company’s competitors offers:

“X is a Chilean-based copper mining group with interests in transport and water distribution. It is listed on the London Stock Exchange and has been a constituent of the FTSE-100 index since 2004.”

Swap “sausages” for “copper mining” and “pizza and chips” for “transport and water distribution” and….well, you get the picture.

Level Three is where the description does tell you what the company does, but is so packed with generic (sausage factory) words – leading, major, global, plus a string of ultimately meaningless list of figures describing the turnover or number of employees- that you sense an opportunity has been lost to tell the real story. In fact as most companies make it past Levels One and Two, Level Three is the one you really need to worry about. Take the following description from the homepage of a CAC40 company:

“X is the world’s leading steel and mining company. Guided by a philosophy to produce safe, sustainable steel, it is the leading supplier of quality steel products in all major markets including automotive, construction, household appliances and packaging. X operates in 60 countries and employs about 260,000 people worldwide.”

You may think this is unfair. If you’re not Coca-Cola or Apple, in an unglamorous sector and with an unevocative name, surely you need to shout from the rooftops that you’re the biggest and best in what you do? My suggestion is don’t blacklist adjectives of the “mine is bigger than yours” variety, or key figures, but attach a warning bell on each: think what you’re trying to say, and whether it really adds anything.

And for those of you who are thinking, “that’s all very well, but what would you put in its place”, the next post will be about how to tell your story once you’ve sat the sausage factory test.

"Strategic reflections on transversal actions": the art of anglification

If part of your unofficial role is, like mine, to be one of a handful of “Anglo-Saxons” working in a large French company, you will almost certainly at some point hear the infamous words: “could you just take a look at the English in this email / presentation / report”.

If the person who asks you this is fairly senior, it’s usually wise to accept with a smile and get on with it. If they’re very senior indeed, the challenge is obviously to change as much as is necessary and that you can reasonably get away with without making them look like an idiot. (This is a delicate balancing act: if things get really desperate, my trick is to only put half your rewrite in tracked changes to minimize embarrassment when he opens your email).

Assuming you do have some latitude with the red pen, I’ve found that the whole thing goes quicker if you stop trying to work out what they’re trying to say in English and just imagine you’re French.  Someone has found a “good point of departure for a reflection”? They’re unlikely to be balancing mirrors on airport runways – the French will be something along the lines of “bon point de départ pour engager une reflection” In English, “a starting point for a discussion”.

So having got the idea – think French to improve the English- you can get out your berets and tricolore flags and keep a look out for the following clangers:

· Animate. The French animate meetings, websites, teams… and when they go on holiday, they expect animations in the evening. Anglo-Saxons on the other hand are remarkably inanimate. No single word exists – you might be ”leading” a team or a meeting, or “producing content” for a website. If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself in the middle of a French colonie de vacances in the middle of August you will look forward to the evening “entertainment”. Look at the context and find something that makes reasonable sense.

· Reference. As in,” X is a reference in the construction industry”. “Une reference” is used a lot in this context in French and sometimes just about goes in English… but only just. Try using adjectives like “major” or “leading” followed by the type of thing the company does e.g. “X is a leading construction company…”

· Transversal. The word that makes me really want to run for the hills. Transversal programmes, transversal themes… Very easy. They are “cross-“ something. Cross-business, cross-sector… In fact this one is so easy that if you change it often enough, some people may even catch on and start using it themselves.

· Actions. Very rarely actions, particularly if they happen after a reflection, or form part of a transversal programme. Almost always “initiatives”.

· Accompany. Don’t approach this one after a long day. “Accompagner le développement”, “accompagner ses clients” invariably show up in literal translation. There is no word, but the concept is not a bad one, so don’t roll your eyes and strike out the whole sentence. “Facilitate” can sometimes work for abstract concepts like development, growth etc. “Support” or “work with” can be used when talking about stakeholders. Sometimes it might be better to go one step back and work out what they’re really trying to say. “Supporting our client’s expansion / growth” for example, works better than just “supporting our clients”.

The thing about this list is it could go on for pages. In fact I’d love to know if other people have their own bêtes noires (not black beasts, please note!) to add to the list. Otherwise happy rewriting and just remember the golden rule – if someone tells you the document they’ve asked you to read has already been sent to several hundred senior managers, the response is always, “It looked pretty much fine to me”.

The Rapport d'activités: getting your thoughts (and post-it notes) in order

Annual report planning time has come around again and the same issues you confronted last year are rearing their ugly heads once more.

There are of course the standard internal politics issues: how many pages you can squeeze in front of the Chairman’s statement before he gets offended; how much money you should put aside for photoshopping Board members’ double chins and paunches.

But the main question is always: how do you get across all the information you have in a way that tells a good story, doesn’t leave the reader drowning in detail but is sufficiently meaty to be worth the effort of reading?

A country not renowned for its love of simplification, France has adopted a straightforward approach. All the detail – performance by sector, corporate governance, management report, shareholder information – and accounts go into a doorstopper volume called the Document de reference. A second (non-regulatory) tome, the Rapport d’activités is a much sexier affair that gives an overview of the business and how it’s performed over the year.

This makes life easier for corporate communicators than trying to cram everything into a single Annual Report.  But the freedom to pick what goes into the Rapport d’activités can result in muddled messaging. There are five things worth bearing in mind here:

1)    Consider your audience. The Rapport d’activités often serves as much as a corporate brochure for potential employees, clients and partners as it does for investors. Furthermore, there are several sub-classes of investors- institutional vs. retail, long-standing investors vs potential new investors… Think who you are writing for (and who you’re not writing for), what content they expect to find and how much they are already likely to know about the company.

2)    Keep it simple. Because the range of audiences is so broad, and the level of knowledge readers bring to the document so uneven, you need to focus on keeping the story simple. That doesn’t mean skipping over complicated parts of the business: it means presenting facts and statements as simply as possible, and in an order that makes sense.

3)    Work out what story you want to tell. The report should include your “core” story – what the business is about, who it helps and how it makes money – and your “annual story”. Was it a year of change or consolidation? How did the markets you operate in impact the business’ activities over the year? What does the future hold? Total manages this balance between core story and annual story well.

4)    Structure is paramount. What sections do you want to include and in which order? Beyond the standard sections – chairman’s statement, performance, business overview etc. – your audience needs will dictate the inclusion of additional sections. Investors increasingly expect to see a prominent Strategy section, for example, and clients will understand your business better if you can include case studies and explanations of your approach. In order to create a flat plan for the document (or sitemap in the case of an online report), I find it helpful to use Post-it notes. Writing the name of each section on a Post-it and moving each section around until you’re happy with the result is a good way to get your thoughts in order. You can then repeat the exercise with content items – overall performance figures, performance figures by business, KPIs, client case studies. The aim is to ensure that everything you want to say finds a home, is not repeated, and is not introduced to the reader without the appropriate context. Even better iff you can find ways to link sections (e.g. by referencing case studies in the strategy section – Capita does a good job of this).

5)    Aim to write where possible in the target language. If the majority of your readers speak English as their first or second language, use English and translate into French. Then invest as much time and care as possible in ensuring the translated version reads like an original. (Try giving the translated document to a native speaker who has not seen the original-language version). Of course for organizational reasons, this may not be possible, particularly if the people who sign off on each section have a poor grasp of the language.

This is of course an oversimplification – your “core” story, for example, needs some thinking about and is likely to involve the input of a large number of people. But the exercise should at least get you to the point where you can brief a design agency… and start preparing the Chairman for the fact he won’t be appearing on page 1.