I ask all Frontier employees to follow the Scout Law. It goes as follows:

A Scout is:
Helpful and trustworthy, 
Kind and cheerful, 
Considerate and clean, 
Wise in the use of all resources.

What more could you want from an employee or colleague?

First thing's first: SPOILER ALERT. 

Second, if you want to persuade others I suggest embodying the voice of a Southern President. Smart but casual, visionary but practical. Here is the letter that Frank Underwood penned to President Underwood in one of House of Cards' greatest episodes. There are many lessons within it (paragraph breaks my own):

Dear Mr. President,

I'm writing you on an Underwood portable my father gave me when I left for the Sentinel. It was the words my father said when he gave it to me that resonated even more than this 70-year-old machine.

"This Underwood built an empire," he said. "Now you go and build one of your own." Those words have been a large part of what has motivated my life.

I've only written one other letter with these keys. It did not fail me then. I hope it will not fail me now.

You said I wanted to diminish you. The truth is I don't. You said I wanted to challenge you in 2016. The truth is I don't. You said I wanted the presidency for myself. The truth is... I do.

What politician hasn't dreamed of about what it would be like to take the oath of the highest office of our land? I've stared at your desk in the Oval and coveted it. The power. The prestige. Those things have a strong pull on someone like me, who came from a small South Carolina town with nothing.

But since you assumed office, my only aim has been to fight, for you and alongside you. Whether that be in Congress, or as now, the battle over impeachment. Maybe one day I'll have my chance to serve as President. But not while you are the nation's leader.

And in you, sir, I see a brave man. A just man. A president whom I would follow anywhere, no matter how strong the wind blows against us... I want to tell you something I have never told anyone.

When I was 13, I walked in on my father in the barn. There was a shotgun in his mouth. He waved me over. "Come here, Francis," he said. "Pull the trigger for me." Because he didn't have the courage to do it himself. I said, "No, pop," and walked out, knowing he would never find that courage.

The next 7 years were hell for my father, but even more hell for my mother and me. He made all of us miserable; drinking, despair, violence... My only regret in life is that I didn't pull that trigger.

He would've been better off in the grave, and we would have been better off without him. I'm not going to put you in the same position as my father put me in.

You will find enclosed, on a separate sheet, a confession to the crimes you have been accused of. They're false words, but my signature will make them true.

Use them, if you must. If you truly believe that I have only served myself, then I have forever lost your trust. All I can do now is give you my freedom to save your own. I said I would take the fall for you. And now I give you the means to make that happen. I am pulling the trigger myself.

We all must make sacrifices to achieve our dreams. But sometimes we must sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. It is my honor to make such a sacrifice now.

Your loyal friend, still in my heart, if not in yours,

Francis.