Narrative Branding: Stories That Sell
Chris Do and narrative expert Michael Margolis dissect how to use story to escape commodification and build a brand no one can copy.
Chris Do
Founder, The Futur™ · November 1, 2023
Objects Have No Value, Stories Do
A Zippo lighter is worth about twenty dollars. But what if that same piece of metal belonged to General George S. Marshall, the architect of the post-war Marshall Plan? What if you had a photograph of him using it to light a celebratory cigar on D-Day? Suddenly, the object is worth thousands. It might even be priceless.
The object never changed. The story did.
This is the central thesis from narrative expert Michael Margolis, founder of Storied. “People never buy the product,” he argues. “They buy the story that's attached to it. Not just the story that you're telling, but rather the story that people are telling themselves about what that thing means to them.”
We are surrounded by this principle, yet we remain mostly blind to it. From a wedding band, which is merely scrap gold to a pawnbroker but a priceless symbol to its owner, to a $250 bar of craft chocolate whose value is derived from its rarity and provenance. The story creates the meaning, and the meaning dictates the value.
Chris Do points to the iconic watch scene in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. Bruce Willis’s character, Butch, risks his life, hunted by the mob, to retrieve a cheap gold watch. To an outsider, his actions are insane. But the watch was passed down by his father, who endured unimaginable hardship to protect it. For Butch, the watch wasn't an object; it was a symbol of paternal love, sacrifice, and legacy. The story made it worth dying for.
This concept of provenance, or the story of where something comes from, is a powerful value driver. In the food world, it’s known as terroir, the “taste of a place.” A cheese can only be called Parmigiano-Reggiano if it comes from a specific region in Italy. Champagne can only come from Champagne, France. This isn't just marketing; it's a narrative about authenticity, tradition, and a quality that cannot be replicated elsewhere.
If you have no story, you are just a Zippo lighter on a gas station counter. If you have no unique provenance, you are just another block of cheese in the dairy aisle. In a world of infinite choice, your story is the only thing that separates you from being a commodity. As Do notes, “If you have no story, you're kind of interchangeable, and that is the definition of a commodity.”
The Hidden Operating System: Distinguishing Story from Narrative
Most discussions about storytelling in business miss a critical distinction, one that operates like the hidden code of our entire social reality. It is the difference between story and narrative.
“The narrative is a Christmas tree,” Margolis explains, “and the stories are the ornaments that go on the Christmas tree.”
This distinction is not academic. It is the key to understanding how beliefs are formed and how influence truly works. Here is the breakdown:
- Story: A story is a single, closed-loop event. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. It is concrete, specific, and personal. “My father immigrated from Africa and built a new life” is a story.
- Narrative: A narrative is an abstract, open-loop belief system. It is shared, collective, and often subconscious. It doesn’t have a clear beginning or end. “The American Dream” is a narrative.
We are drowning in a sea of stories, but we have very few shared, collective narratives to make sense of them. The American Dream narrative, for example, gives context and power to millions of individual immigration stories. Without the larger narrative, each story is just an isolated anecdote.
This concept extends to everything we perceive as valuable. The US dollar, for instance, has very little utility value. It’s a piece of paper. Its power comes from the collective narrative we’ve all agreed to: that it is a store of value and a medium of exchange. After the United States left the gold standard in 1971, the currency’s value became entirely untethered from a physical asset. It became a pure narrative.
“The minute our faith and confidence in the US currency wanes,” Do observes, “all of a sudden that's just now a piece of paper. The story matters a lot.”
Understanding this difference is a paradigm shift. Grasping it is like taking the red pill and seeing the Matrix of culture itself. For leaders, creatives, and entrepreneurs, it provides a new lever for influence. Stop just telling stories. Start shaping the narrative.
Conviction Over Consensus
Once you understand the power of narrative, the next question is how to build one. This is where Margolis introduces a controversial idea that upends decades of conventional business wisdom, particularly for those working in innovation and technology.
“I have an inherent bias,” he admits, “but I find that the majority of research is garbage and is a distraction.”
This is not a wholesale dismissal of data. It is a reordering of the creative and strategic process. Most organizations lead with research. They conduct open-ended “fishing expeditions” to discover what they should be. The result is often a muddled mess of conflicting data points, a pizza with 32 toppings that pleases no one.
The alternative approach is to invert the sequence. You must start with conviction.
Start with a thesis. Based on your vision, your gut, and your unique perspective, put a stake in the ground. Declare what you believe the future looks like and what role you will play in it. This is an act of leadership, not of analysis.
Then, use research to validate. Once you have a clear, conviction-driven thesis, research becomes an incredibly powerful tool. It allows you to test your assumptions, poke holes in your argument, and refine your position. But it is serving the thesis, not creating it.
“When it comes to actual leadership or driving change or repositioning a brand, you got to start with conviction,” Margolis insists. “If the conviction doesn't exist in the organizational system, the world's best research is going to rot on the vine.”
This is a principle Do has spoken about for years in the context of goal setting. Most people set goals by looking backward, a forensic exercise that projects the past onto the future. Innovators look to the future they want to create and invent a path to get there. As Margolis puts it, “Data is a story of the past, whereas disruption is a story about the future. We have to start with the future first.”
Margolis shares a powerful case study from his work with Facebook in 2016. At the time, Facebook Groups was a neglected feature. A new leadership team had done brilliant ethnographic research and had a vision for its potential, but they were drowning in millions of user stories. They couldn't find the core narrative.
Margolis’s team helped them crystallize it around a timeless, universal truth: the human need for belonging. The new narrative for Facebook Groups became a story about belonging in the digital age. This was not a data point; it was a conviction about a fundamental human need.
That narrative was so powerful it eventually shifted the entire company’s mission and its North Star metric toward “meaningful social interaction.” It started not with a spreadsheet, but with the conviction of leaders who understood a universal truth. As Plato supposedly said, “Those who tell the stories rule the world.”
Character Trumps Credentials
For an individual creative, a founder, or a small agency, these high-level concepts can feel distant. How does a solo freelancer compete in a marketplace that feels increasingly commodified by technology and global competition?
The answer lies in another of Margolis's core principles: character trumps credentials.
“There's a million designers, there's a million creatives,” he says. “But there's only one that has your story. That becomes the place where you can literally reveal your own inner authority.”
This is not about being a “good” person in the Boy Scout sense. It’s about being a memorable, distinct character. It’s about having a point of view, an origin story, and a visible personality. It’s the difference between being a resume and being a person.
This idea pushes back against a powerful instinct among creatives: the belief that the work should speak for itself. We are obsessed with craft, honing our technical skills in Photoshop or Figma or code. But as Do points out, the market often rewards something else. “Our customers... do not want to know how we make the sausage,” he states bluntly. “They don't give a damn about the craft.”
What they want is competence, yes, but they buy connection. They buy a story they can see themselves in. This is where character becomes your ultimate X-Factor.
The conversation turns to the most polarizing of modern characters: Donald Trump. Setting aside politics to analyze the brand, Do identifies a key insight. “He's understood that it's better to be a flawed person and be real... than it is to be a perfect fake person.” Trump, a billionaire with gold-gilded toilets, became a relatable figure to millions precisely because his flaws were on full display. He felt authentic, even to those who disagreed with him.
This stands in stark contrast to polished, media-trained figures who seem to speak out of both sides of their mouths. “Can you just be real?” Do asks. “If you're angry about something, just say I'm angry... At least then we know where you stand.”
The age of pure substance, if it ever existed, has been replaced by an age where charisma and character are currency. This shift arguably began with the first televised presidential debate in 1960 between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon. Radio listeners thought Nixon won, but television viewers favored the more charismatic Kennedy. Personality became a political asset. Today, in a world saturated with social media, it's a professional necessity, a core principle of building a successful personal brand.
Your credentials, your portfolio, your years of experience, these are just the price of admission. They make you qualified. Your character, your story, your willingness to be a real, flawed human, that is what makes you chosen.
The Playbook for Higher Ground
In an era of accelerating commodification, especially with the rise of generative AI, the only sustainable path forward is to find what Do calls “Higher Ground.” This is achieved through a combination of three elements: positioning, differentiation, and X-Factor.
Your story is the key to unlocking all three.
Margolis presents a framework for thinking about this, a ladder of value that moves a brand from the functional to the transcendent. It consists of three levels:
- Functional Value: This is the base level. It's what your product or service literally does. It slices, it dices, it saves time, it increases revenue. It is the features and benefits.
- Emotional Value: This is the next level up. It’s how your product or service makes the customer feel. Confident, secure, smart, relieved.
- Aspirational Value: This is the highest level. It's about what your product or service helps the customer become. A leader, an innovator, a better parent, part of a movement.
Most brands compete on functional value, which is a race to the bottom. Great brands compete on emotion and aspiration. This is where the X-Factor lives.
Margolis provides a telling example of a venture-backed startup in the developer tool space. Their product was technically brilliant, but their messaging was stuck at the functional level, endlessly listing features. They were lost in the weeds.
Working with them, Margolis’s team uncovered a powerful, ineffable concept that bubbled up from user interviews: developer happiness. Developers who used their tool simply felt happier. They couldn't live without it. This was their X-Factor. It was an emotional and aspirational benefit that competitors like GitHub could not easily claim.
It was the perfect narrative to differentiate them in a crowded market. The executive team loved it. But they didn't have the conviction to own it.
They retreated to safer, more generic terms like “developer velocity” and “developer success.” They chose the functional over the aspirational. They abandoned their Higher Ground because they were afraid to claim a narrative that felt too bold, too ineffable, too emotional. The conviction wasn't there at the leadership level, and a multi-million dollar opportunity was lost. Claiming a unique position requires the courage that many entrepreneurs learn through difficult experience, a theme explored in conversations with founders like Ryan Blair.
The X-Factor is often something you cannot prove on a spreadsheet but you can feel in your gut. It shows up in the language of your most passionate customers. Finding it requires listening, but owning it requires courage.
The Narrative in Action: A Live Workshop
To make these abstract concepts concrete, Margolis puts Chris Do on the spot, running a live mini-workshop to sharpen the narrative for Do’s own evolving business.
The challenge is a classic pivot. The Futur historically served creative professionals, teaching them the business skills they were never taught. Do’s new venture, Brand Lab, flips the script. It’s designed to teach creativity to business people, those left-brainers like mortgage brokers, lawyers, and realtors.
The pivot created an immediate narrative problem. Do describes the friction:
- The Old Guard: His creative community felt left behind. “Oh, you're just leaving us behind, Chris.”
- The New Audience: The business people were skeptical. “What is creativity gonna really do for my business?”
Do’s initial narrative created a binary, an “us versus them” dynamic. As Margolis points out, “The moment that one tells the new story... anybody who lives in the old story is likely to feel wrong, bad, judged, stupid, or defensive.”
Do’s rational explanation is logical. He plans to use the revenue from the new, higher-ticket offering to subsidize programs for the creative community. He sees himself as a Robin Hood figure, bridging the two worlds. But this is a functional explanation, the strategic “Lego blocks” of the business model. It lacks an emotional core.
“I want to move upstream to aspiration and emotion,” Margolis prods. He asks Do to reconnect with the core DNA of his brand: the name itself.
“What is it about the name The Futur that is so important to you?”
Do’s energy shifts. The answer is immediate and clear. It’s about looking to the horizon, dreaming beyond what you can see. It is embodied in the phrase he has used to close videos for years: “You're not defined by the past. The future is what you make it.”
This, Margolis reflects back, is the answer. This is the unifying narrative.
“That to me is a timeless truth that's baked in the DNA of your work,” Margolis says. “That is… a rallying cry that's unifying, that transcends the boundaries and the differences.”
The narrative isn't “Creatives vs. Business People.” It isn't a story about two separate audiences. It’s one big story about enabling everyone, regardless of their background, to take control of their destiny. It’s a narrative about adaptation, evolution, and self-determination in a moment of massive societal change. That's a story that both the struggling artist and the successful lawyer can see themselves in. That's a narrative that can transform a business, not just scale an agency.
The solution was not to create two separate stories. It was to find one, bigger story that was already there, hiding in plain sight in the brand's own name.
The future is what you make it. That is the umbrella. Underneath it, there is room for everyone.
Your business needs a similar umbrella. A core belief so foundational it transcends any single product, service, or customer segment. That is your true narrative.
Find it. And have the conviction to own it.
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“If you have no story, you are a commodity.”
— Chris Do
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