A soccer mom walks into a lumber yard: Developing empathy for your outsiders

I visited the local lumber yard yesterday.

My husband had tasked me with finding some wood to provide more support under our mattress (the new platform bed slats haven’t been doing the job well and he’s been getting migraines).

I’d never been to a lumber yard before, but I was surprised find myself nervous. There were three buildings, and I had no idea which entrance to use. When I walked in, nobody greeted me or even looked up from their work. The workers and their customers all wore plaid, Carhartts, and well-worn ball caps; I stuck out like a sore thumb in my soccer mom attire. There was a sea of desks in the room, staffed by men busily taking phone orders. I stood in the center of the office for a full minute, trying to figure out who might be willing to help me. Nobody volunteered.

I migrated to the one woman in the office, who turned out to be the cashier. I didn’t know the lingo to use and I had a lot of questions, which made me feel like a bother and an ignoramus. I began to perspire.

I was acutely aware that my “job to be done” was quite different than most of their other customers, who were ordering truckloads of wood for building projects. It was a relief when the cashier led me over to a customer service rep who didn’t smirk at me, listened to my needs, and helped me figure out the best solution: six 10” boards would be easier to transport than a 60x80” piece of plywood. But then I was on my own again finding the right warehouse, recruiting someone to cut the boards for me, and figuring out where to pull up my vehicle for loading.

When I got home, relieved the experience was over, it dawned on me: This is how the uninitiated feel about attending an orchestral concert or an opera, a museum or a ballet performance.

In her book The Art of Relevance, Nina Simon urges arts administrators to deliberately visit environments or institutions they aren't familiar with. She says it's the only way to truly understand what it feels like to be an outsider.

“For many insiders—especially professionals—it sounds unbelievable that people would experience threshold fear in museums or theaters…How could a person possibly feel intimidated, truly frightened, of entering a museum? How scary or confusing could it be? We can’t fathom that kind of fear, and so we demean or disregard it.”

I couldn’t agree more.

If audience building is the goal, it’s time for arts leaders to begin centering the experience of the uninitiated (the Outsiders). Why?

Because consumers simply don’t seek out experiences that cause stress, effort, or uncertainty. Which means that the members of your community who have no experience with your art likely won’t seek it out—unless you deliberately shape the whole experience from marketing to ticket purchase to the event itself to be more familiar, more relevant, more comfortable for them. Knowing how to do this requires openness and empathy—and a little field work.

What unfamiliar setting can you visit this week? A lumber yard might be a good place to start.

Go alone. Bring a notepad. I guarantee you'll get some good ideas on how to better welcome outsiders into your space.