Neither Captious Nor Weasly Be

When it comes to customers, don't be captious. Niggling gets you nowhere.

How many times have you contacted sales or customer service, only to be informed you've called the wrong line? Or told to fill out some online form first? Or made to feel a fool, because you don't know if you have Version 4.2?

When conversing with a customer, be sensible and humble. To show off your knowledge blunts your effectiveness.

And when it comes to customers, don't weasel. Weaseling destroys trust.

If you need to make a point with a customer, make it clearly, concisely, candidly.

How many times have you contacted sales or customer service, only to be informed the price isn't actually available, the product doesn't really work, the warranty is never, ever applicable? "You'd have known that, if you'd seen the fine print."

When conversing with a customer, be sincere and straightforward. To squirm out of every promise makes you a weasel. And the weasel is a threatened species.

Writers on the Big Screen

Hollywood routinely returns to writers for characters because, unlike superheroes, they're observant, witty, flawed and vulnerable—qualities a main character must have to woo an audience.

While it's easier for Hollywood to realize other creatives (artists, musicians and dancers, for example), the absurd and scary nature of the writer's life never loses appeal.

My list of the top movies depicting writers (in chronological order) comprises:

Young and Innocent (1937). A short-story writer is on the run from the cops, who are convinced he's a murderer. An early Hitchcock thriller.

The Lost Weekend (1945). An alcoholic writer's weekend plans are dashed when he decides to drop into Nat's Bar.

In a Lonely Place (1950). Screenwriter "Dix" Steele can't manage his anger. His mean streak make him a murder suspect, when a pretty coat-check girl is found strangled. 

Beloved Infidel (1959). A gossip columnist falls for F. Scott Fitzgerald, who's working in Hollywood so he can afford the asylum where he's put his crazy wife.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961). Holly Golightly drags her neighbor, the writer Paul Varjak, into her crazy life.

Black Like Me (1964). A journalist investigates segregation from an unusual angle.

The Front (1976). Blacklisted TV screenwriter Alfred Miller persuades his bookie to sign his name to Miller's scripts in exchange for a percentage.

My Favorite Year (1982). TV scriptwriter Benjy Stone tells of the summer he met his idol, swashbuckling actor Allan Swann.

The Year of Living Dangerously (1982). A foreign correspondent assigned to Indonesia gets caught up in a political coup.

Cross Creek (1983). Novelist Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings deals with rejection by buying a Florida orange grove.

The Ghost Writer (1983). An aging literary giant invites a young acolyte to dine at his secluded country home. Not to be confused with the 2010 thriller below.

Out of Africa (1986). Memoirist Karen Blixen discovers what matters, while she learns to run a coffee plantation.

Stand by Me (1986). Author Gordie Lachance recounts a trip with three childhood buddies over a Labor Day weekend.

Hannah and Her Sisters (1986). The family and romantic entanglements of three sisters, one a budding writer, unfold between two Thanksgivings.

Barton Fink (1991). A playwright's Broadway hit propels him into a $1,000 a week job in Hollywood.

Shakespeare in Love (1998). The Bard struggles with his new comedy, Romeo and Ethel, and falls for a wealthy merchant's daughter.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998). A drug-addled journalist is assigned to cover the Mint 400 motorcycle race.

Wonder Boys (2000). A drug-addled novelist attends a writer's conference with his agent and two students from the college where he teaches.

Adaptation (2002). A high-minded scriptwriter asks his twin brother to interview the author of the book he's desperate to adapt.

As Good As It Gets (2003). Best-selling novelist Melvin Udall discovers a waitress may be the only person in New York who can stand him. 

The Human Stain (2003). Novelist Nathan Zuckerman receives a visitor one dark night. The stranger, a down-on-his-luck college dean, wants him to write a book about his life.

Sideways (2004). An aspiring writer joins his soon-to-be-married former college roommate on a road trip through California wine country. 

Finding Neverland (2004). Scottish writer J.M. Barrie meets a widow and her four young sons in Kensington Gardens and a friendship begins. 

Capote (2005). A writer's masterpiece also proves his undoing.

The Squid and the Whale (2005). Husband and wife novelists decide to call it quits. Their divorce doesn't go over well with the kids.

Miss Potter (2006). Spinster Beatrix Potter becomes an international celebrity and falls in love with her publisher.

HOWL (2010). Poet Allen Ginsburg's colorful verses land his publisher in court, charged with selling obscene material.

The Ghost Writer (2010). A ghostwriter tries his hand at a politician's memoir after his predecessor—under suspicious circumstances—gives up the ghost.

Midnight in Paris (2011). An unfulfilled screenwriter vacations in Paris, where he discovers that a 1920 Peugeot lets him travel backwards in time. 

The Help (2011). An aspiring journalist decides to write a book about Southern housemaids.  

Hannah Arendt (2012). A high-profile New Yorker assignment teaches a German intellectual "the greatest evil perpetrated is the evil committed by nobodies."

Saving Mr. Banks (2013). P.L. Travers resists the Disneyfication of her creation, Mary Poppins.

Big Sur (2013). Jack Kerouac retreats to the woods in hopes of drying out.   

Wodehouse in Exile (2013). In the leadup to world war, a famous British humorist is tapped by the Germans to appease Americans. 

Papa (2015). A young journalist goes to Havana to meet his idol, Ernest Hemingway, on the eve of the Cuban Revolution. 

Trumbo (2015). Hollywood's top screenwriter finds himself in deep kimchi for his pinko leanings.

The End of the Tour (2015). David Foster Wallace goes on a book tour with a Rolling Stone reporter. 

Genius (2016). Novelist Thomas Wolfe finds he desperately needs an editor; Max Perkins complies.

Paterson (2016). A bus driver records his responses to the beauty that surrounds him in poems he keeps secret.

Their Finest (2017). A scriptwriter adds "a woman's touch" to a teary propaganda film during the Battle of Britain.

Rebel in the Rye (2017). J.D. Salinger loses his mind, but finds his voice.

The Man Who Invented Christmas (2018). Desperate for cash, Charles Dickens tries his hand at a ghost story.

Mank (2020). A tippling screenwriter and a boy genius take on the powers that be.

Loose Lips Think Slips

Even Napoleon had his Watergate.

— Yogi Berra

This just in: PELOSI SENILE. SPICER LIAR.

When politics turn puerile, it's okay to turn a slip of the tongue into news.

But according to psychologists, for every 1,000 words spoken, one or two slips of the tongue occur. Given the average pace of speech, that's at least one every seven minutes.

Hardly newsworthy.

Sigmund Freud called slips of the tongue Fehlleistungen ("faulty actions") and insisted they were meaningful, because they reveal unconscious thoughts.

He was certainly right, to a degree.

I remember greeting two dinner guests, a married couple, at my front door one evening. It was wintry, and heavy topcoats were in order.

The moment the doorbell rang, my wife (now ex) whispered, "Listen, if they act tense, it's because they're both having affairs." I ran to the door, opened it, and announced, "Hi! Come in and take your clothes off!"

Similarly to Freud, psychologist Daniel Wegner contends the unconscious is constantly mulling worst-case scenarios, so we can spot and prevent them. The more the conscious mind resists those thoughts, the more the unconscious revisits them. On occasion, the unconscious sabotages the conscious mind, and a dark thought just rolls off the tongue.

But not every slip of the tongue is Freudian.

According to linguist Gary Dell, thoughts, words and sounds are linked through three networks in the brain—the semantic, lexical and phonological. Speech arises from their interaction. Every so often, one of the networks simply misfires, and a slip of the tongue results.

Sam I Am

When white Vaudevillians complained about having to share dressing rooms with dancer Sammy Davis, he'd tell his young son to ignore them. "They're just jealous 'cause we got a better act."

Because he traveled from the age of three with his dad's act, Sammy Davis, Jr. was kept out of school, and thus sheltered from Jim Crow-style segregation.

It was only when he turned 18 and joined the army that Davis realized his color was a handicap. But when he was removed from latrine duty and assigned to entertaining fellow troops, he also realized talent was powerful.

"My talent was the weapon, the power, the way for me to fight," he once said. "It was the one way I might hope to affect a man's thinking."

Talent, in any walk of life, is the only power most of us—not born into wealth—possess.

Davis exploited his to mount the pinnacle of the entertainment profession—even winning membership in the original hipster supergroup, The Rat Pack.

Along the way, he broke down more racial bars than did many other, more dignified black luminaries of the day—in 1972, even kissing Archie Bunker.

How about you? Are you using your talent to break down bars?

Does Content Produce Oxytocin?

A recent survey by PwC shows one in two CEOs think lack of trust threatens company growth. They have good reason: Prerequisite to any purchase is trust. And trust is a rare commodity these days.

Why do we trust each other, anyway?

Researchers in California asked test-subjects to choose any amount of money they wished to, and transmit it to strangers via computer. But first, they told the subjects that the money they sent—whatever the amount—would automatically triple in value, after they sent it. They also told the strangers they could keep the money they got, or share it with the senders. Before and after each transmission, the researchers measured the amount of oxytocin—the brain chemical responsible for "social bonding"—in both the senders and receivers.

The researchers found the more money recipients got (money being the gauge for trust among senders), the more oxytocin their brains produced; and the more oxytocin their brains produced, the more likely they were to share that money with senders (money also being the gauge for trust among recipients).

The researchers' conclusion: Oxytocin reduces our fear of trusting a stranger.

I'd like to encourage the Content Marketing Institute to fund a comparable experiment to prove my pet theory: Marketing content produces oxytocin.

If the Institute is unwilling, you can send me money (via computer), and I'll fund the experiment.

It'll be money well spent.

Trust me.