The New Rules of Influence: How to Authentically Build Trust, Drive Change, and Make an Impact

The New Rules of Influence

Copyright © 2024 by Lida Citroën

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First Edition

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Citroën, Lida, author.

Title: The new rules of infl1278;uence : how to authentically build trust, drive change, and make an impact / Lida Citroën.

Description: First edition. | Oakland, CA : Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc., [2024]

Identifiers: LCCN 2024007132 (print) | LCCN 2024007133 (ebook) | ISBN 9781523006663 (paperback) | ISBN 9781523006670 (pdf) | ISBN 9781523006687 (epub)

Subjects: LCSH: Leadership. | Influence (Psychology)

Classification: LCC HD57.7 .C5357 2024 (print) | LCC HD57.7 (ebook) | DDC 658.4/092— dc23/eng/20240404

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024007132

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024007133

2024–1

Book production: Happenstance Type-O-Rama

Cover design: Ashley Ingram

To all of us who want to know that by the

end of this crazy and wonderful journey

called life, we mattered, we made a difference,

and we left the world a better place.

Contents

PREFACE: Why This Book?

INTRODUCTION: Why the Old Rules Don’t Work, and We Need New Ones

CHAPTER 1: Claiming Your Own Sense of Influence

CHAPTER 2: Discover Your Why

Rule 1: BE COURAGEOUS

Rule 2: BE REAL

Rule 3: BE CREDIBLE

CHAPTER 3: Find Your Who

Rule 4: BE OF SERVICE

Rule 5: BE INCLUSIVE

CHAPTER 4: Clarify Your How

Rule 6: BE CONSISTENT

Rule 7: BE AGILE

Rule 8: BE A STORYTELLER

CHAPTER 5: Locate Your Where

Rule 9: BE VISIBLE

Rule 10: BE A BRAND

CHAPTER 6: Driving Influence

CONCLUSION: Measuring and Living Your Impact

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INDEX

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Preface

Why This Book?

Were you one of those kids in school who had lots of friends, always wore the cool backpack, and knew what to say to the cute boy or girl at parties?

I wasn’t.

At 6′1″, I’ve always stood out—literally. In the eighties in California where I grew up, there weren’t many girls my height (who weren’t supermodels), and I attracted attention for my stature. At age thirteen, I was the tallest person in my Catholic secondary school—including the teachers (some male)—as I topped 5′10″.

Being so tall did come with some benefits: I would undoubtedly get looks when I entered a room, and if those times coincided with small bursts of adolescent confidence, I could project a grace and self-assuredness that, combined with my height, commanded positive attention.

But being tall—especially as a young woman—also came with challenges: I was uncoordinated and awkward with my long limbs and often was picked last for sports you’d think I’d excel at. Yes, basketball, I’m talking to you. Boys were intimidated by my height and avoided me like the plague. And, while I loved the look of high heels, wearing them would surely put me in nosebleed atmosphere territory, and I didn’t have the self-confidence to pull that look off.

Empathetic people around me tried to encourage me to lean into what they saw as my God-given gift: Stand tall and proud! Embrace your height! Your height is your unique quality—own it! But I didn’t feel those messages; I just wanted to be a normal height like the other girls.

I also wanted to be someone special, important, valued—someone who made a difference. I wanted my voice to matter and my opinions to be respected. Just because I physically stood out did not mean I knew how to harness my presence to be my authentic self and to have influence. Physical presence (and the attention that came with it) was not enough to exert influence. It was just a piece of what made me unique, like having red hair or freckles might.

After college, I spent twenty years navigating the corporate arena, which didn’t do much to reinforce my understanding of influence. I saw people of diminutive stature—people who let others really see them, shared their passions and talents freely, and put themselves out there in bold and risky ways to defend their ideas—attract attention like I did for my height, but they wielded influence, while I didn’t. I witnessed people whose command of the English language had me thumbing through the dictionary, while everyone else nodded with blissful enthusiasm. I noticed how people around me—people who were different from me in every conceivable way—were given free rein to explore their ideas and seemed to possess a secret sauce to influence that I obviously lacked. When they sought to make change, they were successful.

What was I missing?

Later, like a good corporate soldier, I read all the books on leadership, executive presence, influence, confidence, and authority. I attended the seminars and workshops and meetings, took notes, and clapped madly; these new skills seemed so exciting! I practiced the techniques, bought the expensive tailored clothes, refined my communications, and sought to make a difference. All along, I felt I was playing a part, reading a script, and drinking from someone else’s Kool-Aid fountain. None of it felt like it was coming from my heart.

As my career grew, I secured high-profile business development roles, met a lot of key decision makers from various industries, and participated in social and business initiatives and events. And my visibility in my community and industry grew. I’d even say my courage grew, but my impact still waned. I got things done. I was effective. I checked lots of boxes, but I was also unfulfilled.

To those around me, I could seem like the epitome of confidence (my height helped here). I’m naturally quick on my feet, I have a sharp wit (yes, sometimes this can be problematic), and I’m well educated. And, sure, there were times I could assert myself into challenging situations, leveraging my expertise. But it wasn’t consistent, internalized, or sustainable, and I can’t say I always truly felt as confident or sure as I acted. In a sense, the books and seminars had worked: I knew how to pull off a self-assured presence, even if it wasn’t authentic or heart-felt.

When I left Corporate America in 2008 and launched LIDA360, a personal branding and reputation management firm, my understanding of influence shifted in a seismic way. I knew my craft and my target audience, but for the first time in my professional life, I would have to embody all those qualities that the books and seminars and gurus had preached, not just project them. I would need to become influential if I was going to help others do so.

I began asking questions of the business owners I admired: What (and who) motivated and inspired them? Where did they find the most meaning and purpose in their work? How did they balance being genuine with being profitable? I listened to what they told me and tried the new skills on like a new pair of gloves: at first, they felt awkward and a bit stiff, but over time, the leather became supple, and the skills became embedded in who I was. For the first time in my life, I asked myself, Could I be someone who truly motivated and inspired people? What is my purpose? What would being real, to me, feel like?

Curious, I continued to learn. I watched people doing the work they loved, being the person they were most proud of, accepting the hard decisions, and embracing healthy choices. As I learned, my own voice grew. I found myself feeling more confident, not worrying about how it might look to be confident, but actually feeling self- assured. I offered my opinion, shared my skills and knowledge, and found myself attracting followers, clients, friends, colleagues, and communities, who, when surveyed, regularly described me as warm, inspiring, and real. And my influence grew.

Over time, I found it almost easier to be me than to try to remember what I was supposed to be. I built a bigger followership online, attracting opportunities with my ideal target audiences, and grew more convinced that what I was doing now was what I was meant to do. This became my full and unwavering belief in myself and my offer.

I began working with clients who were influencers and thought leaders (in the truest sense of the words). They were changing the landscape of their industry and community, legislation, social narrative, and global issues. They were so deeply passionate about their area— whether it was advocating for neurodivergent individuals, coaching collegiate girls’ hockey, helping obese patients change their lives, driving environmentally responsible real estate development, or advocating for the rights of marginalized immigrants—that it leaked from their pores. For them, not doing this work, and not being able to serve in the way they knew they were destined to serve, was simply not an option. Their sense of passion, commitment, and authenticity correlated to their influence.

Then I came across a quote attributed to Mark Twain, There are two important days in your life: the day you are born, and the day you realize why. This rocked my world. This quote spoke to me in such a bold and profound way. It explained why I was so passionate about and committed to understanding the reason I was placed on this Earth, at this time, under these circumstances. I even shared it in my 2016 TEDx Talk, The Power of Gratitude and Generosity: Serving Those Who Serve, as it seemed to explain my passion for serving the military.

I began to see that each of us has a purpose, which, once we identify it and lean into it, becomes non-negotiable for us. We can try to justify why fulfilling that purpose isn’t practical—such as It doesn’t pay enough to work with at-risk youth. I’m better off as an accountant, or I have to focus on providing for my family, even though serving communities in far-reaching corners of the world is what I’m called to do—but we’ll never feel fully fulfilled. We can learn to play a part, but that’s not the same thing as living the part.

My voice developed more and more, along with my commitment to share an empowering message of hope and love and confidence with others. Over the years, I became an in-demand speaker and took international stages with joy and enthusiasm. I wrote books, articles, and blogs, and coached people to become more and do better. Life was on a roll!

The C-Word

And then Covid happened.

When we learned about Covid, life as we all knew it shifted. Covid gave us new language like social distancing, variants, lockdown, and doomscrolling, and we learned (as our mothers told us all those years ago) that washing our hands really does matter. We experienced isolation, loneliness, and mental health challenges and saw what the absence of human and social connectedness could do to our sense of well-being. Around the globe, we cheered for healthcare workers, panicked if we lost our sense of taste, and wondered what our world would look like once this was all over.

Coming out of the pandemic, we slowly returned to business as usual and aimlessly migrated out of our yoga pants and into real shoes for the first time in eighteen months. But things had radically changed.

Leaders who recognized that paradigms had, in fact, shifted, knew that having meaningful influence with their teams meant leaning into real human needs, not running away from them. These leaders saw their peers face the backlash of sharing too much (or not enough) with audiences who valued their insights. They saw the threat and impact of cancel culture, as executives, entrepreneurs, and trailblazers embraced full transparency to reveal who they truly were—fears, warts, traumas, insecurities, and all.

These same leaders saw how people around them begged them to authentically build trust (instead of mandating compliance), to lead with humanity, passion, vulnerability, and impact (and not coerce others to follow their instruction). When leaders delivered on this need, people followed them—online and in person.

The need for more truth, connection, and empathy was amplified by the pandemic, but it didn’t start there. The events of September 11, 2001, decades of global political unrest and uprising, the insertion of new language and considerations (such as pronouns to identify ourselves), and changes in how we work because of technology started before Covid and continue to morph even today.

But for me, the pandemic served as a demarcation in time to put into neon lights the fact that what worked before wasn’t going to work going forward. People admitted to being more fatigued, less inspired, and more unhappy at work. My clients say their hobbies went from hiking, biking, and sailing to gaming, gambling, and growing (weed). Even today, years after Covid emerged, we don’t surf outside—we surf online. Younger generations describe feeling social because of their collection of online friends, but those aren’t the people they spend physical time with on a Saturday afternoon. And still today, online communities scream for leaders and influencers to show their humanity and relate to people in real (unscripted) ways.

I realized that we need New Rules for how we engage with each other, reveal our humanity and vulnerability, and impact those around us. A TikTok video showing how to use puff pastry dough to make a delicious appetizer can go viral in seconds, while a heartfelt speech about the need to advance resources for marginalized communities falls on deaf ears. Surely there was a formula to build trust and make an impact, and I was committed to finding it.

Why I Wrote This Book

From the early days of my career, I’ve struggled with the traditional norms of executive presence. I listened to speakers, teachers, writers, and coaches talk about what it takes to succeed and exude confidence, and I saw one fatal flaw in the math: the examples tended to be men. White, educated, Mad Men–era executives. And that wasn’t me.

My goal wasn’t to enter a room and have everyone’s heads turn. I didn’t seek to speak with the finesse and well-rehearsed narrative that brought oohs and aahs from the audience. From what I’d been taught, executive presence didn’t work for me or for my friends and colleagues who also looked, sounded, and felt different from the traditional model.

Around me (online and in person), I saw others also struggling. Over decades, as the world grew and shrank almost simultaneously, we looked for a different way to show up, to be real, to be ourselves. The popularity and prevalence of social media replaced conventional communication with smaller, smarter, and more colorful ways to converse. We talk to our family differently today than we did ten years ago (hello, Zoom!), we fall in love on a keyboard before meeting in person, and we get and hold jobs without ever being face-to-face with our bosses and colleagues. Our human interactions have morphed. Sometimes not for the better.

The introduction of employee resource