🩺 Anatomy of a Winning Story – Part 3: The Likeability Factor

🩺 Anatomy of a Winning Story – Part 3: The Likeability Factor

This is Part 3 of my five-part series on The Anatomy of a Winning Story — the hidden ingredients that make audiences lean in, laugh, and care.

Part 1 was about Emotional Stakes.
Part 2 explored Structure and Surprise.
Today, we’re diving into the Likeability Factor — and why the hero we root for is never perfect.

🪞 Why the Hero We Root For Isn’t Perfect

If your story makes you look too good, it’s not a story.
It’s PR.

The Polished Prison We All Built

I used to think likeability was about being impressive.
If I sounded smart enough, polished enough, articulate enough—people would trust me.

I remember the first story I told onstage.
I was polished, perfect… and flat.

Every word was rehearsed.
Every gesture was planned.
Every pause was calculated.

The audience clapped politely—and looked away.

It took me years (and watching real storytellers connect while I couldn’t) to realise:
Perfection might earn respect, but it kills connection.

And that’s the trap so many of us fall into at work.
We polish, prepare, and protect our image so carefully…
that people never see the human behind the performance.

The Counterintuitive Truth About Storytelling Heroes

Most people think storytelling is about looking competent.
But the best stories—whether onstage or in the boardroom—are about being human in public.

At What’s Your Story Slam, our most memorable storytellers aren’t flawless heroes.
They’re the ones who faint at the sight of a placenta, run around the Colosseum with an engagement ring, or mistake pregnancy for an MSG allergy.

You laugh. You lean in.
And most importantly—you like them.
Because they remind you of you.

The Workplace Version of That

You don’t need a stage or a spotlight.

Likeability at work isn’t about confessing your deepest fears in a town hall.
It’s about showing small, honest imperfections that make you relatable—while still showing competence.

Think of it like this:

• You admit you blanked out during your first big presentation… and how you recovered.

• You laugh about sending an email to the wrong client—and how you handled the fallout.

• You share that you used to script every word in meetings—until you realised authenticity builds more influence than polish.

That’s the professional version of fainting at a placenta.
You’re not losing authority.
You’re earning trust.

Why This Works

Psychologists call this the Pratfall Effect — we like competent people more when they make small, human mistakes.
The key is balance: share endearing flaws, not concerning ones.
Vulnerability should make you relatable, not questionable.

The WYSS Winners’ Secret Sauce

Our storytellers don’t aim to impress. They aim to connect.
They’re flawed but functional.

And that’s exactly the balance leaders need to strike at work:

• Admit when you don’t know, but show how you find out.

• Own the mistake, then highlight the recovery.

• Laugh at yourself, but never lose the lesson.

Likeability isn’t about being liked.
It’s about being trusted enough for people to follow your lead.

The Likeability Audit

Before your next meeting or presentation, ask yourself:

• Am I trying to look perfect, or to be real?

• Where can I reveal a small imperfection that builds connection?

• What’s a moment that shows competence and humanity?

Remember: people don’t connect with perfect.
They connect with real.

Your most ridiculous workplace moment?
That’s probably where your best leadership story lives.

Ready to Put This Into Practice?

25 October (Sat) Grace Under Fire: Applied Improv for Leaders
Forget perfect. Be present.

8-9 November (Sat-Sun) Seed to Stage: Storytelling Intensive
Find your story, shape it, and own the room.

19 November (Wed) What’s Your Story Slam – Thank You for the Mess
Watch real people turn chaos into connection.

Missed the Earlier Parts?

📖 Part 1 – Stakes - The #1 Reason Why Your Story Falls Flat
🎢 Part 2 – Structure - Your Story Needs a Spine

Next in Behind the Slam

Why “I met someone interesting” is forgettable—
but “my tall Soviet stallion in a red tracksuit with CCCP across the front” is iconic.