Geno likes to quote our friend, Francois Gossieaux, on a regular basis: “The vast majority of social media communities are dead-on-arrival.”

I can already hear you saying, “But we have all the right things in place, like our Ning and a Facebook Fan Page and Twitter account and this tool and that tool and bells and whistles and, and, and…”

Quit it.

It’s still going to be DOA. For the simple (and complicated) reason that it lacks one ingredient. And around these parts, it’s what we call SOUL.

Soul can’t be replaced by your technology platform. It can’t be duped by your influential blogger outreach strategy. And it can’t be duplicated by the hollow shell of the Trojan Horse that looks like a community, but is really another “push” mechanism with the illusion of engagement.

Soul is full of emotion. Soul is immaterial. Soul comes from people. Not platforms. Soul begins deep within the recesses of your chest. It’s wrapped in what you stand for and permeates every aspect of what you do and say.

So you want to know why you built that shiny community and it sucks? Because you forgot something. You started with the tech and not the soul. And you’re just another url in a sea of meaningless ports that are begging people to come to their party and talk about their brand. That’s soul-less.

Is it easy to find soul? Not always. Sometimes it’s as plain as the nose on your face. But a lot of times, you have to dig. Talk to people (face-to-face even *gasp*). Participate in their lives and not just their conversations. Walk a mile in their shoes. Only then can you even begin to understand what makes them tick - and if you’re lucky, get a glimpse of their soul.

We love us some John Moore. Not only have we had the great opportunity to work along side him (he was our first Marketer-in-Residence), but the man behind the Brand Autopsy Practice and WOMMA’s WOM Enthusiast is a really funny guy.

My phone message at work says something along the lines of “Leave your name, number and that thing you do.”

Last week, John did his thing: (BTW, it’s a Quicktime file)

that-thang-that-i-do

Classic.

I was talking with Robbin yesterday and she gave me a whack on the side of the head set of words that I not only wanted to write down, but explore.

We’ve all heard the metaphor that social media is like a party. People mingling and mixing, meeting new and old friends, having a grand ol’ time, debating, agreeing, catching up. You get the picture.

But have you ever stopped to think about the personalities at the party? The wallflowers. The DJ. The frat boys and snarky girls. And then there’s always that one guy: The Loudest Guy in the Room.

When you first enter the party, he’s the center of attention. Everyone wants to be near him. They are hanging on his every word and he’s got them eating out of the palm of his hand. But as the party goes on, and more people enter the room, he realizes that to maintain his status as the “life of the party,” - which we now see is just about the most important thing to him - his has to get louder. A little more obnoxious. A little more annoying. A lot more cocky. And as a result, people start tuning him out. He begins to lose his status. And people move on.

So many companies - and individuals for that matter - are trying to be the loudest guy at the party. Sure, it feels good as you gain that attention and momentum. But I really believe that we are starting to see a backlash against the loudest guy in the room. It’s not really an attention contest anymore. And those that have set out to be the loudest in the room are starting to find out that there’s only so much of them the rest of us can take before we turn our backs and go on with our lives. And then where does that leave them? Sad and lonely.

Yesterday was a long day. I pride myself on working smart hours, not long hours.

But yesterday went like this: I woke up at 5:30, off to the gym for a bit, then home to shower and off to work before eight. Numerous meetings, conference calls, tweets, emails and interruptions later, I walked out about 8:40 PM and headed home.

This morning I had a call at 7:45. And a board meeting I had promised to attend at 8. I had to ride around the building three times because I felt like I would lose reception when I ducked into the parking deck. So I was late into my meeting. I hate late people more than I hate busy people. Maybe hate is too strong of a word, but I try very hard not to fall in either group.

Anyway, I walked into my meeting late, a board meeting for the Greenville CVB. (Did I tell you how very, very beautiful our part of world is? You should visit or hold your next convention here.)

So anyway, back to my story. My friend Fabian Unterzaucher, who is Chairman of the board and manages the Westin downtown, started the meeting like this:

He simply had a picture of Josuha Bell on the screen. And he quietly handed out a piece of paper with a story (which he quietly asked us all to read) of how this amazing world class violinist, one of best in the world, did this social experiment in a metro stop in the DC area.

Check it out here. Now many of you may have seen this. I know. I know. I know. It’s old. It has had a boatload of views. And I must have been busy in 2007.

Because somehow, I completely missed it.

And well, it stunned me.

So I lingered after the meeting. Instead of emailing a thought to the sales director, I told him. I made plans to meet for lunch with someone I think is kind and interesting. And I walked slowly back to the parking deck. Still stunned.

And I wondered, what are we so busy talking about these days? What are we missing? If engaging with your customers and connecting with your employees is now a given, how can we stop the social media frenzy and convince people and companies “being social” has to be meaningful?

We preach this: Talk with your customers. Understand the passion conversation. Meet your customers where they live. You can check out Spike’s Social Fresh talk here. It sums up our point of view nicely.

I heard Scott Monty speak the other day at Blogwell and I wrote down Ford’s social media strategy: Ford wants to HUMANIZE the company by connecting customers to Ford employees and to each other. (@scottmonty, correct me if I get this wrong, you talk kinda fast.)

Don’t you love that? I mean — let it really sink in for a minute.

That is exactly what we are all talking about, preaching and longing for…

People want real human contact. We want real connections to other human beings who share our same passions in life. After all, 90% of Word of Mouth happens offline.

Everyone is talking numbers in the new emerging media world. Numbers of eyeballs. Number of friends, views, twitter followers and RSS feeds.

Hmmm.

My friend @chrissandoval shared this lovely picture of his vacation site with his followers a couple of nights ago. I told him to “quit twittering and go enjoy the view.” And he in said back to me: “But I can’t help but share.” And that just made me smile.

We as humans do want to share our lives. And guess what people, it is not about the numbers. We just want to share our lives with people who can add value. Who make us think and laugh. And feel good. People we trust. People just like us.

It is not about the numbers.

It was a great day in Charlotte, NC yesterday as I had the great opportunity to attend and present at the first Social Fresh event. The sold out day was jam-packed with great prezos, but the most interesting to me was to see what David Armano is up to on his new adventure at Dachis Group. I’m not gonna lie - those kids are sharp and I know we’ll be keeping a keen eye on the work they do.

My talk was about the lessons Brains on Fire has learned in our journey’s creating branded ambassador movements. I was at the end of the day and I truly appreciate everyone sticking around. I’m posting my prezo here for those who requested it:

And if you want to to read the whitepaper version of the 10 Lessons Learned, download our ChangeThis Manifesto.

Thanks again to Jason Keath, all the volunteers for the day and all the fantastic folks I was fortunate enough to meet and hang out with.

Onward.