Stop Explaining Tourism Like an Accountant

Happy Wednesday, here we go. I keep seeing these resident campaigns that proudly explain tourism saves the average household $2,000 a year in taxes.

And every time I see one, I have the same thought:

That number means absolutely nothing to a normal person.

Because nobody experiences it.

I don't wake up in the morning and think, "Wow. Thank goodness for that hypothetical tax offset."

I wake up wondering why my HOA fee went up.

The average resident is trying to survive school drop-off, rising insurance premiums, and whatever fresh hell is happening at the grocery store. Meanwhile, tourism rolls into the conversation like an accountant who wasn't invited to the barbecue.

"Actually, if you look at the data..."

Buddy. Read the room.

These tourism graphics are "technically" right. That's what makes this so frustrating.

The industry creates jobs. It supports small businesses. It helps fund infrastructure. It keeps restaurants alive during shoulder seasons. It absolutely contributes to the quality of life in a community.

So, why do we explain all of that in the least human way imaginable???

It's like giving your spouse a spreadsheet for your anniversary.

Technically, you did something. Emotionally, you missed the assignment.

I think somewhere along the way we forgot who these messages were for.

• The resident isn't sitting around wondering how many room nights were generated last quarter.

• They aren't anxiously awaiting the release of the annual economic impact report.

• Nobody has ever burst through the front door yelling, "Honey! The occupancy tax collections are in!"

Residents care about outcomes.

• Can my daughter get a summer job?

• Can my favorite local restaurant stay open?

• Why does our downtown feel alive when the next town over looks like somebody forgot to water it?

• Why do we have concerts in the park?

• Why is there a trail here?

• Why doesn't our community have more things to do?

Those are resident questions.

And tourism answers a lot of them.

We just keep responding in a language nobody speaks outside our industry.

The irony is that destinations are finally starting to understand they need resident support. Community sentiment is becoming a boardroom conversation, more accurately "destination stewardship" (watch that space - there's already 7,847 explanations of it). More destinations are launching resident campaigns. More organizations are trying to explain their value.

Good.

That's progress.

But if your entire strategy is telling residents they saved money they never saw, you're probably not building support. You're building confusion.

Or worse, skepticism.

Because residents aren't stupid.

The minute they hear "$2,000 per household," they're doing the math in their head.

Where is it?

If I saved it, where did it go?

Can I have mine now?

Frankly, I think that's a fair question.

The answer isn't to stop talking about economics. Economics matter.

The answer is to stop leading with economics.

Lead with evidence.

• Show me the theater that got restored.

• Show me the business owner who made payroll in February because visitors showed up in October.

• Show me the community event that would disappear tomorrow if tourism funding disappeared tonight.

Show me the thing.

...then tell me the number.

Because stories are how human beings decide whether something matters.

• A resident can love a farmers market.

• A resident can love a park.

• A resident can love a thriving downtown.

• A resident can love a local festival.

Nobody has ever fallen in love with a pie chart.

And if I were advising destinations right now, I'd spend a lot less time building infographics about tax offsets and a lot more time creating what I call a proof file.

A running collection of visible evidence.

Photos. Stories. Projects. Businesses. Improvements. People.

The industry has spent decades proving its value to elected officials, finance committees, and boards.

The next decade will require proving its value to neighbors.

Those are very different audiences.

One wants a spreadsheet.

The other wants to know why they should care.

So if I were running a destination organization right now, I'd start by doing three things.

1. First, I'd stop leading with economic impact and start leading with visible impact. Every quarter, I'd be able to answer one simple question: "What can residents physically see because tourism exists?" If you can't answer that quickly, neither can they.

2. Second, I'd build a library of proof instead of a library of reports. Not statistics. Stories. The restaurant that stayed open. The trail that got built. The event that survived. The business owner who hired three more people. Tourism doesn't happen in a spreadsheet. It happens in places and in people's lives.

3. Third, I'd stop communicating with residents only when I need something. Too many destinations suddenly discover the importance of community engagement right before a budget hearing, a ballot initiative, or a public relations crisis. That's not engagement. That's panic.

The destinations that will win resident trust over the next decade won't be the ones with the biggest economic impact reports.

They'll be the ones whose residents can already answer the question:

"What does tourism do for us?"

Without needing a pie chart to explain it.

Because the truth is, tourism has the receipts. We just keep showing people the calculator instead.

I'm Jenn Barbee. And if tourism really owes me $2,000, I'd like it in cash.