Why Scripts?!
A new hire's cursor hovers over one box in my intake form. First U.S. week. Goal for today's standup: "Sound confident without oversharing." That single sentence is why I stopped writing long modules and started designing scripts. In the first 90 days, learners don't need a textbook; they need the right words for the next two minutes of their real day. My assistant, quiet, no-code, AI-supported, listens to context, preserves the person's voice, and offers a few lines they can actually say out loud.
Stronger Meetings With A Script Engine
The Library
I began with a simple Google Sheet: three tabs, scenarios, friction points, and blocks. Scenarios are the meetings we all recognize. Friction points are the habits that trip people up: verbosity vs. brevity, decision-framing, evidence-in-one-breath, timeboxing, and kind directness. Blocks are tiny, reusable lines tagged by type (opener, ask, if-pushed, closer) and tone (concise, warm, formal). No code. Just structure and language.
The Tiny Chart
I keep one small chart inspired by Erin Meyer's The Culture Map—eight dimensions on a 1–7 scale, stored in the same sheet. For a learner, I lightly mark "home" tendencies next to the expectations of the context they're entering. It's a compass, not a verdict. When gaps spike, say on directness or feedback style, the assistant nudges the script: a tighter opener for executives, a clearer ask for cross-functional calls, a warmer frame for sensitive feedback.
Intake
We keep the intake short. Role. The scene they're about to enter. Who's in the room and what those people value. The outcome they want—decision, information, or relationship. How much time do they truly have: thirty, sixty, ninety seconds? And how they prefer to sound. If they say "confident but not defensive," I keep that phrase on my shoulder while we work.
Assembly
The engine does light pattern-matching. Client status with execs? Emphasize brevity, decision-framing, and evidence. Peer feedback? Kind directness and a quick why. The assistant assembles a short script from the library—never to overwrite the person's voice, only to sharpen it.
In The Room
That engineering manager who feared oversharing planned to explain the entire sprint. Builders love backstory; audiences need headlines. The script we generated kept it tight: "High-level: we're on track for October 10. One risk is latency in the beta; mitigations in A/B test now." The ask followed naturally: "To hold October 10, we need a yes/no on expanding the beta by the end of the day." If pressed: "Two fixes in test; I'll share the winner on Thursday." The closer handed ownership and next steps without sounding abrupt. No theory dump. Just a clear path through the scene, quietly informed by that little chart reminding us to lead with outcomes, not chapters.
After The Call
Every script ships with a micro-experiment and a reflection. The experiment is tiny on purpose: lead with the outcome first in two meetings this week; keep the opener under thirty-five seconds; make the ask time-bound. The reflection takes a minute: What did you cut that no one missed? What made the room lean in? Those notes feed the library. Over time, blocks sharpen into phrasing that travels well across teams.
Because this lives in a spreadsheet, iteration is painless. If a line skews too formal, I rewrite it. If a closer sings with clients but flops with peers, I retag it. The assistant learns, and so do I. Edit distance—how much a learner changes the script—becomes a proxy for confidence. When it drops, we're closer to their authentic sound.
What I Watch
I track signals with a pulse: time to first confident meeting; decision velocity (clear ask, owner, date); manager signal at 30/60/90; scripts generated vs. scripts used. No heavy dashboard required—just a weekly glance to see if the story is moving.
The "AI" is a custom chatbot tied to the sheet. Intake flows through a simple form. The draft arrives where people already live, Slack or Teams, not a buried LMS tab. Privacy is strict: minimal context, learner edits, no raw transcripts. The assistant proposes; the learner disposes.
I spend less time explaining how to communicate and more time handing people words that work. The learning is adaptive, not because a dashboard says so, but because every scene writes the next. New hires ramp faster. Partners hear clarity sooner. The scripts get better with each small edit.
The Line I Keep
A manager, French, first month in Boston, wrote after a tricky week: "It didn't make me sound American. It made me sound like myself, but in a way people here hear." That sits next to "sound confident without oversharing" in my scrapbook. Personalization isn't about changing someone's voice; it's about giving it the shape to carry. The Meyer-inspired chart helps me spot which levers matter; the script makes those levers usable in the room.
Start Tiny, Upskill Fast, Stay Confident!
Five common scenes. A handful of friction points. A dozen blocks you're proud to say out loud. Add the simplest Culture-Map chart you can draw, eight sliders in a sheet, and use it as a compass, not a rulebook. Ship to one team. Watch what they change. Fold their edits back in. One morning, you'll open the spreadsheet and realize you're not maintaining "content" anymore, you're directing a living story. And every time the 8:57 a.m. cursor blinks, you'll know exactly how to get your protagonist through the next scene.
