Michelle: A study found that 70 percent of people feel the meetings they attend are a total waste of time. But what's even wilder is that a different study found a manager's decision about a job candidate is often set within the first half-second of an interview. Mark: Hold on, half a second? Not even a full second? That’s terrifying. So we're all sitting in these pointless meetings for hours, but the most important judgments about our careers are made in the blink of an eye. The gap between those two stats is basically where our entire professional lives go to die. Michelle: It’s a huge gap! And it's the exact space that the book The Bullseye Principle: Mastering Intention-Based Communication to Collaborate, Execute, and Succeed by David Lewis and G. Riley Mills aims to fix. Mark: Okay, I'm listening. The Bullseye Principle. It sounds sharp. Michelle: It is. And the authors are a fascinating mix. One, G. Riley Mills, is an Emmy-winning writer and a global leadership coach. The other, David Lewis, is a former Fortune 500 salesman and a trained actor. They’re essentially merging the principles of the stage with the pressures of the boardroom. Mark: An actor and a salesman. That sounds like a recipe for some next-level persuasion… or manipulation. What’s the core idea here? Is it just about learning to fake it 'til you make it? Michelle: That's the perfect question, because it’s actually the opposite. Their whole argument is that the most powerful communication isn't about faking anything. It’s about being incredibly deliberate with your intention. It’s not just what you say, but the energy and purpose you launch your words with. Mark: Intention. That feels a little abstract. How does that play out in the real world? Michelle: Oh, it plays out spectacularly when it goes wrong. Which brings us to the legend of a man named Phil Davison.

Mark: I feel like I should know that name. It has a certain ring of internet infamy to it. Michelle: It absolutely does. So, picture this: it's 2010 in Stark County, Ohio. Phil Davison, a local councilman, is giving a speech to Republican leaders to get their endorsement for County Treasurer. He’s prepared, he has a Master's in Communication, and his speech is actually well-written. Mark: Okay, sounds like he's got all his ducks in a row. Michelle: You'd think so. But right before he goes on stage, he’s told that the party insiders have already picked their guy. He’s not getting the endorsement. He feels humiliated, betrayed, and furious. And he takes all of that raw emotion onto the stage with him. Mark: Oh no. I can see where this is going. Michelle: The video is a masterclass in what the book calls incongruence. His words are saying, "I am a competent, stable leader for this county." But his body, his voice, his entire being is screaming, "I am going to burn this building to the ground." He’s pacing like a caged animal, his voice starts at a low growl and builds to a full-throated roar. He’s pointing, glaring, his face is beet red. Mark: I’m watching it in my head right now! It’s one of the most magnificently unhinged things ever captured on camera. So you’re saying the words themselves were fine, but his intention—which was clearly to project pure, undiluted rage—was what blew the whole thing up? Michelle: Precisely. His verbal channel was saying one thing, but his vocal and visual channels were telling a completely different, and frankly terrifying, story. The book argues that when those channels don't align, the audience will always, always believe the non-verbal cues. They won't hear your message; they'll only feel your emotion. Mark: Which in his case was, "This man should not be allowed near the county's money, or sharp objects." Michelle: Exactly. But here’s the fascinating part that the book highlights. Later, the authors coached him. They had him deliver the exact same speech, word for word. But this time, they gave him a new intention. Instead of projecting anger, his intention was "to reassure" or "to inspire confidence." Mark: And what happened? Michelle: It was a completely different speech. It was calm, professional, and persuasive. The content was identical, but because the intention driving it was different, the entire impact changed. He went from "unhinged maniac" to "competent candidate." Mark: Wow. Okay, that’s an extreme example, but it makes the point perfectly. But how does this apply to a regular person? I have to give a project update in a meeting tomorrow. It's boring. I can't just 'intend to be charismatic,' can I? That feels fake. Michelle: That’s the key. The book says don't pick an adjective like 'charismatic.' Pick an active verb. Before you walk in, decide: is your intention "to CLARIFY" the next steps for your team? Is it "to CHALLENGE" a flawed assumption? Is it "to REASSURE" your boss that things are on track? That one verb becomes your North Star. It shapes your tone, your pace, your body language. It's not about being fake; it's about being focused. Mark: So it's like method acting for a sales pitch. You’re not pretending to be a different person; you’re just focusing on a single, clear objective for that one scene. Michelle: That’s a perfect way to put it. You're choosing the emotional and psychological bullseye you want to hit. And that idea of choosing your intention for a single moment scales up beautifully. It’s not just about one speech; it’s about how you consistently project yourself over time, which is the core of your personal brand.

Mark: Right, because if your brand is 'the angry guy' like Phil Davison, it doesn't matter what you say in your next speech. People have already made up their minds. Michelle: Exactly. The book quotes Jeff Bezos: "Your brand is what people say about you when you’re not in the room." It's the total experience people have with you. And a huge part of that brand is built on how you handle pressure and how you collaborate. Which brings me to another fantastic story, this one about Henry Ford. Mark: The assembly line guy. Let me guess, his brand was 'efficiency at all costs'? Michelle: You'd think so, but this story reveals a different layer. In the early 20th century, a Chicago newspaper called him an "ignorant pacifist." Ford, being Ford, was furious and sued them for libel. The newspaper's lawyers decided to prove their point in court by putting him on the stand and humiliating him. Mark: That sounds like a terrible idea for Ford. Michelle: It was a disaster at first. They peppered him with obscure trivia. "Who was Benedict Arnold?" "How many soldiers did the British send to quell the Rebellion of 1776?" Ford, who had little formal education, fumbled. He looked, for all intents and purposes, ignorant. The courtroom was snickering. Mark: This is painful. It’s like the Phil Davison speech but in slow motion. Michelle: It was. But then, Ford got fed up. He stopped, pointed at the smug lawyer, and delivered a line that completely flipped the script. He said, "If I should really want to answer the foolish question you have just asked, or any other question, let me remind you that I have a row of electric push-buttons on my desk, and by pushing the right button, I can summon to my aid men who can answer any question I have a mind to ask on any subject." Mark: Whoa. That is an absolute power move. My jaw just dropped. Michelle: He went on to say, "Now, will you kindly tell me, why I should clutter my mind with general knowledge, for the purpose of being able to answer questions, when I have men around me who can supply any knowledge I require?" Mark: That's brilliant! So his brand wasn't 'I know everything.' His brand was 'I get everything done.' He was basically saying his real skill isn't his personal knowledge; it's his network. His ability to collaborate. Michelle: You nailed it. And think about his intention in that moment. It shifted from "to defend my intelligence" to "to demonstrate my resourcefulness." He redefined what it meant to be smart in that room. He wasn't the encyclopedia; he was the search engine. Mark: And that’s a much more powerful brand for a leader. It's not about being the smartest person in the room; it's about building the smartest room. This connects back to what the authors were saying about their own backgrounds—the actor knows how to perform in the moment, but the salesman knows how to build the relationships that make those moments possible. Michelle: Precisely. And the book has a great framework for this, drawing from the work of psychologist Dr. John Gottman. He talks about "bids for connection." A bid can be anything—a sigh, a casual question, a shared glance. It's a small attempt to connect. Gottman found that in relationships, the masters are the ones who consistently "turn toward" these bids, acknowledging them. The disasters are the ones who "turn away," ignoring them. Mark: So building a network like Henry Ford's isn't about big, grand gestures. It's about paying attention to the tiny, everyday moments and showing people they're heard. Michelle: Yes. Every time you acknowledge a colleague's comment in a meeting, or ask a follow-up question, or just make eye contact and nod, you're strengthening that connection. Over time, those tiny moments build the trust that allows you to summon an expert with the push of a button. Mark: Okay, so we have intention in the moment, and this consistent, connection-building brand over time. But the book argues there's an even more powerful tool that ties it all together, right? Storytelling. Michelle: The most powerful tool of all.

Mark: I'm a little skeptical of this one. The business world runs on data, spreadsheets, and PowerPoints. 'Storytelling' can sound a bit soft and fluffy. Michelle: The authors would argue that's the biggest mistake modern leaders make. They cite a Stanford study that is just staggering. In a typical business presentation, audiences retain only about 5 to 10 percent of the statistics shown. Mark: That sounds about right. I can feel the numbers sliding out of my brain as they appear on the screen. Michelle: But, if you wrap those same statistics in a memorable story or anecdote, the retention rate jumps to 65 to 70 percent. Mark: A 600% increase? Okay, that's not fluffy. That's a strategic advantage. Michelle: It’s a massive advantage. Because our brains aren't wired to remember data points; they're wired for narrative. For cause and effect. For emotion. And the book tells a story to prove this point that is so much more powerful than any business case study. It’s about a man named Albert Robinson. Mark: I'm ready. Michelle: Albert was a track and field prodigy from Chicago. He dreamed of being in the Olympics his whole life. In 1988, he makes it. He's in Seoul, running the 4x100 meter relay. He runs his leg of the preliminary heat, and the U.S. team wins. They're a shoo-in for the gold medal. His lifelong dream is right there, within his grasp. Mark: I'm getting chills already. Michelle: After the race, as they're celebrating, an official comes over. The Soviet Union and two other countries have filed a protest. They claim one of the baton passes happened outside the designated zone. The officials review the tape. And they disqualify the U.S. team. Mark: No. After all that? Michelle: Just like that, his Olympic dream is shattered. Not because he lost, but because of a technicality. He returns home, completely broken. He retires from track a year later, gets a city job in Chicago, and for nearly 30 years, he locks that memory away. He never talks about it. The pain is too great. Mark: Wow. That's just heartbreaking. Michelle: But here’s the turn. Years later, his twin daughters, Rachel and Sydney, start showing promise in track. Albert becomes their coach. And he starts to do something he never thought he could: he starts to tell his story. He uses the pain of that disqualification, the lessons of that deferred dream, to teach them about resilience, about commitment, about how to handle both victory and defeat. Mark: So the most painful moment of his life became his most powerful teaching tool. Michelle: Exactly. And that's the book's ultimate point about storytelling. A list of "leadership principles" is forgettable. But the story of Albert Robinson—the feeling of that dream being snatched away, and the redemption he found in coaching his daughters—that's something you will never forget. It communicates perseverance and the power of reframing failure more effectively than any bullet point list ever could. Mark: It proves the point without even trying. The lesson isn't in a statistic; it's in the feeling. You're not just hearing information; you're being emotionally transported. Michelle: And that’s what great leaders do. They don't just present a vision statement. They embed it in a narrative that connects with people on a human level. They make you feel the mission.

Mark: It’s all starting to click together. It all comes back to this idea of performance, in the best sense of the word. Whether it's a single sentence in a meeting, your entire professional reputation, or a story you tell, you're not just transmitting information. You're creating an experience for the other person. Michelle: That's the perfect synthesis. And you have to be intentional about what that experience is. You are the director of that interaction. Mark: So if you had to boil it all down, what's the one thing a listener can do tomorrow, after hearing this, to start applying the Bullseye Principle? Michelle: I think the book's most practical and powerful takeaway is this: before your next important conversation—a pitch, a feedback session, even a difficult talk with a family member—don't just rehearse what you're going to say. Take thirty seconds and pick one single, active verb for how you want the other person to feel as a result of your words. Mark: Give me some examples. Michelle: Your intention is to reassure them. To challenge them. To inspire them. To unite them. That one word becomes your bullseye. It guides your tone, your body language, everything. It’s simple, it’s fast, and it can completely change the outcome. Mark: That's a fantastic, simple tool. To reassure, to challenge, to inspire. I like that a lot. It feels manageable. What's the one intention you're taking into your next big meeting? Let us know your thoughts and join the conversation with the Aibrary community. We'd love to hear how it goes. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.