You Are Not Michael Scott - and That’s a Good Thing

There’s a moment in The Office where Michael Scott announces a grand plan with absolute confidence… and zero follow-through. He wants everyone to love him. He wants every idea to be “fun.” He wants to be everywhere, all the time, loudly.

And every time I rewatch it, I think: "This is what nonprofit marketing looks like when clarity is missing."

Not because we’re foolish. Not because we’re unserious. But because we’re under-resourced, overextended, and constantly told—explicitly or not—that if we just did more, things would magically click.

The beginning of the year makes this pressure louder. New calendars. New goals. New boards asking, “So what’s the plan for social media this year?”

And suddenly, every front-facing action feels urgent.

Instagram.

Email.

TikTok.

LinkedIn.

Website updates.

Flyers.

Partnerships.

“Visibility.”

Here’s the truth we don’t say enough in nonprofit arts spaces: Every front-facing action you take needs a purpose—and that purpose cannot be “because we’re supposed to.”

And it definitely can’t be “because everyone else is doing it.”

The Real Problem (It’s Not Strategy—It’s Specificity)

Most nonprofit arts organizations don’t lack strategy. They lack specificity.

We say things like:

• “We need to grow awareness.”

• “We want to engage the community.”

• “We should be more consistent online.”

  
  

Those aren’t strategies. They’re hopes. And hopes are exhausting when you’re already doing the work of five people.

When specificity is missing, social media becomes performative instead of functional. You’re posting because the calendar says so, not because the post is doing something for your audience.

And when capacity is limited—which it almost always is—being vague is expensive.

Not Every Platform Is for You (And That’s Not a Failure)

Michael Scott wanted approval from everyone. Staff. Corporate. The warehouse. Strangers at Chili’s.

That impulse shows up in nonprofit marketing all the time.

• “If we’re not on TikTok, are we behind?”

• “Should we be posting reels?”

• “What if funders are watching our Instagram?”

Let me be very clear: Not every platform is for you.

And choosing not to be somewhere is not a sign that you don’t care about equity, relevance, or the future. It’s a sign that you respect your capacity—and your audience’s time.

The better question isn’t “Where should we be?”

It’s “Who are we actually trying to serve right now, and how do they prefer to hear from us?”

If your core audience reads emails but rarely comments on Instagram, that’s not a branding problem. That’s data.

If your community shows up in person but doesn’t share posts, that’s information—not a failure.

You don’t need to be loud everywhere. You need to be clear somewhere.

Capacity Is a Strategy (Even If No One Taught You That)

In small arts organizations, capacity is often treated like a personal flaw instead of a structural reality.

• “We just need to be more disciplined.”

• “We’ll get consistent once things slow down.”

• “I’ll do it after this program cycle.”

Things don’t slow down. And discipline doesn’t create hours in the day.

Capacity isn’t something you work around. It’s something you plan with.

When you’re managing programs, partnerships, fundraising, and community care—your marketing has to be specific enough to earn its keep.

Ask yourself:

• What do we actually need this communication to do?

• Is it meant to invite, inform, reassure, or reflect?

• Who is this for, and what do they need from us right now?

If you can’t answer those questions, the post probably doesn’t need to exist.

The Moment of Truth (This Is the Part We Avoid)

Here it is—the uncomfortable part.

It’s not all about you.

Not your calendar. Not your internal urgency. Not your need to “stay visible.”

Your audience doesn’t wake up thinking about your organization. They’re navigating their own constraints, curiosities, and care limits.

When your messaging centers your stress instead of their experience, people feel it—even if they can’t name it.

This is where I want to protect the line you care about deeply: You can’t be all things to everyone. Remember S.A.V.I.C.C.

Specificity. Action-Orientated. Values-Driven. Impactful. Customer-Centered. Concise.

When those elements are aligned, marketing stops feeling like noise and starts feeling like service.

What Clarity Actually Looks Like (In Real Life)

Clarity doesn’t mean more content. It means fewer things done on purpose.

It sounds like:

• “This platform is where we nurture relationships—not announce everything.”

• “This email is for people who already care, not people who don’t know us yet.”

• “We’re focusing on one message this month, not five.”

And yes—sometimes it means letting go of an idea that sounds exciting but doesn’t fit your current reality.

That’s not playing small. That’s playing honest.

So...

Michael Scott wanted to be loved. Most nonprofit arts organizations want to be understood, supported, and sustained.

Those are different goals—and they require different choices.

As you move through this year, sit with this question:

What does this action mean for the people we serve—not just for how we appear?

If you can answer that, you’re already doing more than most.

And you don’t need to be everywhere to prove it.