“Proactive would be nice,” Michael said. “That’s not something we see on many defense teams.” Walter described how the DA drives things and the defense team is always reacting. “It would be nice to be on the offensive for once.”
I closed by telling them I thought creating a narrative could instill a positive culture as well. I expected Walter and Michael to ask me when I could get them the name of somebody else to help them, so I could go right back to being a hermit in my office, writing papers that nobody would ever read, in journals that nobody ever heard of, all of which I had already resigned myself to do. To tell you the truth, I actually looked forward to it.
“We’ll do it,” said Michael.
My eyebrows shot up and my eyes widened. I am pretty sure my mouth opened a bit.
“Well, whatever we’re doing now isn’t working,” Michael said.
Then, it got less flattering. “At this point, we’re willing to try anything,” said Walter.
“We’ll do anything you tell us to, Hans. We’ll create one of these narratives and use it to guide all our work. Just tell us what to do.”
My tongue dropped toward my stomach as realization shot up my spine. I felt like a tremendous bluff had been called. Before that moment, the discussion had been comfortably theoretical.
“What’s in it for you?” asked Walter.
Despite being flabbergasted, I managed to answer what would be in it for any academic. “Well, for me, I am in the publish-or-perish business, so whatever I do has to have a research component. I would like to conduct an ethnography of the death penalty. That means I need to learn about everything you do, go everywhere you go, and gain an insider’s perspective on the death penalty.”
“That will expose you to a lot of privileged information,” Walter said.
“In that case,” said Michael, “you had better just join the team.”
Walter nodded.
“Do you have any legal experience at all?” Michael asked.
“None.”
“I want to teach you your first legal term,” Michael smiled, “pro bono.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I said. “Research will be my agenda, not money. I’ll write papers about the death penalty as a social institution. I could do a paper about the narrative process we go through.”
They smirked at each other.
“You won’t have to read them! But just so you know, some professor-types would actually find it quite interesting. If we construct a team narrative and attempt to enact it, it will be the first time anyone has ever deliberately applied narrative theory as an organizing principle and strategic device. I think we would be the first organization anywhere to even try it.”
Michael leaned forward, “You mean you’ve never done this?”
My ideas about narrative change came from a setting much less distressing than the death penalty process. I was introduced to the power of narrative during a research engagement at the world-famous comedy theater, The Second City, in Chicago. When I was there, Tina Fey was the head writer, creating sketch comedy similar to what most people would recognize as the five- to ten-minute skits seen on Saturday Night Live.
In addition to comedy shows, Second City Communications provided programs for organizations that supported their company’s agenda through themes and messaging in the comedy skits. After one such show, a telecom company executive related a surprising result.
“Do you remember the skit when they had me discussing the merger with a manager from the other company?” the executive asked.
“I do,” I said.
“Well, in that scene, which was completely made up, they had me and the other manager jogging through a park as we discussed some merger issues.”
“Yes,” I recalled, “and as you jogged along and talked, you encountered and overcame all kinds of obstacles.”
“The actors were running through a jungle, then a desert, over mountains, and stuff like that. It was funny.”
“So that skit resonated with the employees?” I asked.
“It did!” he exclaimed. “But in an odd way. They all think I am a runner.”
“And are you?”
“No, I’ve never run a day in my life. I hate running,” he said.
“So how did you find out that they thought that?”
“They give me gifts! All kinds of running gear. I get shoes, running shorts, special watches, and gift cards to running stores. People forward me information about marathons! It’s crazy.”
In addition to serving as a proving ground for comedy legends John Belushi, Bill Murray, John Candy, Chris Farley, and, more recently, Steve Colbert and Tina Fey, Second City was also a proving ground for my ideas about narrative theory. I spent about eight months there doing an ethnography focused on how organizations construct stories to create shared understandings. I focused on how these corporate skits were created, and I conducted participant observation in the writer’s room, where writers met with clients to discuss their meeting agenda, such as a merger announcement, and what the clients hoped the show might achieve for their company or organization.
My research was conducted in a division called Second City Communications, now Second City Works. They used their improvisation methods to deliver team building, communication, and leadership workshops to organizations. They also performed sketch comedy shows at corporate events, using skits to convey corporate strategy, culture, and messaging to employees. I studied how the writers and corporate clients crafted scripts to be performed in front of employees. The skits either framed current events or offered designs for the future, such as what the corporation should do, how employees should act, and what kind of culture they should have. The skits were perfect examples of what organizational researchers called organizational narratives.
At that time, organizational scholars doing narrative research collected and examined existing narratives, such as mission statements, letters to shareholders, and corporate histories. In analyzing these existing narratives, most researchers used methods such as discourse analysis to make inferences about the corporation’s culture and identity. What I observed was groundbreaking research within narrative theory. Instead of interpreting existing narratives, I watched how narratives were created. Observing the narrative construction process as it happened was eye-opening. It allowed me to explore corporate decisions about what to include or exclude in each narrative, and how the company hoped a new narrative might change the corporate culture, achieve a shared understanding, or get everyone on the same page in pursuing a strategy. My research was the first to examine “the making of” stories and narratives with a focus on how narratives might create—not just reflect—corporate culture.
Besides being fun, The Second City was an extremely interesting and poignant research setting for narrative theory. My research got attention from some foundational members in the field of organizational narratives, including David Boje, a well-known academic authority on organizational narratives and storytelling.1 He agreed to be on my dissertation committee, and along with Dan Spencer at the University of Kansas, they directed my attention to a critical postmodern approach to organizing, which entails a reflexive approach to critically analyzing how discourse creates reality.
On the day of my dissertation defense, my chairperson at The University of Kansas said the committee would be honored if David Boje would be the first to comment on my presentation.