Change, Part II

I was driving down Washington Ave. in downtown Minneapolis when the radio guest made an interesting point. When asked why the electorate doesn't care more about the facts in political campaigns, and why false and misleading ads are often effective, the founder of FactCheck.org said:

When you falsely portray a candidate in a way that goes against the grain of people's preconceived notions, it doesn't work. But when you do it in a way that reinforces the myth already in the ether, it often does work.

See? That's why every Republican is a greedy warmonger who pals around with bloated CEOs, while every Democrat is a tax-and-spend wimp who pals around with terrorists! The two parties have gone to great lengths (and spent millions of dollars) to create these perceptions over several decades. They're very hard to undo.

But what about something like TankGate, the famously ill-conceived photo of Michael Dukakis posing in full military garb inside an M1 Abrams tank? This wasn't a tactic of his opposition; it was the stupendously misguided brainchild of his own campaign. It failed miserably, because it tried to change perceptions overnight. Call it branding "shock and awe," as if McDonald's had suddenly announced that it was trading beef for tofu. It went against the grain, and it was an instant laughingstock.

A month ago, Bill Maher asked why the Obama campaign hadn't tried to "swiftboat" John McCain. Because they're smart, I thought. They know that swiftboating John Kerry worked because it went with the grain, but doing it to McCain would fly in the face of his solid image as a war hero. Is it fair that a Vietnam POW is bullet-proof, while a Silver Star and Purple Heart recipient from the same war is vulnerable to attack? No, but that's the way it is. Don't fight it.

Months ago, I sat in a meeting with a VP of sales who was exasperated that, despite months of indoctrination, many of his reps still described their employer as a "distributor," rather than a "solutions provider." There were probably many reasons for this (including the inertia of longer-standing employees who are always resistant to change). But is it also the case of an "against the grain" internal branding move?

We'll find out.

Good Change/Bad Change

Political season is almost over, and it's time to talk about change. Good change, bad change, and the fact that we might all soon be standing on a street corner begging for change.

A funny thing, this concept of "change." When it comes to marketing, particularly in politics, it's a good thing (when times are bad, the challenger has two basic rules: run on "change" and tie your opponent to the current unpopular president). But it occurs to me that there's one kind of change that nobody likes: a candidate that seems to change during the course of the campaign.

Think back to the Gore-Bush debates. Back in those heady times, when we were blissfully unaware of the terrorist attack, wars and global recession soon to come, we had the luxury of fixating on eye rolls and sighs. After Al Gore showed much of both in his less-than-stellar first debate performance, an interesting thing happened: His handlers sat him down in front of a TV and made him watch Saturday Night Live's Darrell Hammond do his Gore imitation. "See?" the handlers said. "People see you as stiff and uptight. You have to change that."

And what did Gore do? He started wearing earth tones, doing morning-show interviews while sitting in an easy chair, and most notably, seeming to do his next debate performance on Xanax.

I remember thinking that it was a horrible decision. Sure, if we had never seen the other Gore, this Gore might seem more pleasant. But more important, people saw that Gore would change based on their perceptions of him. That's far worse, because it shows weakness. (His handlers blew it even more by leaking the SNL sit-down story to the media.)

In the next election, what was the angle that the Republicans introduced early and rode to victory? "Our guy is resolute; their guy is a flip-flopper." Hillary Clinton refused to change when it came to her initial approval of the war in Iraq, but what really hurt was the perception that she changed her personality on the campaign trail almost weekly. And McCain, who as of this writing is down eight points nationally, has always had a tough time convincing people that the current self-proclaimed "maverick" is the same guy as the media-dubbed maverick of 2000. (In the final presidential debate, most people saw one angry guy and one guy who remains calm under attack. They preferred the latter.)

Before you make any radical changes to your product, service or entire corporate brand, think about whether it's change that people want, rather than change you think they need.

Words Matter

Paraguay?

I've been on record as saying that I think Starbucks and McDonald's are trying too hard to become one another. I said it nearly a year ago after Starbucks started selling breakfast sandwiches and McDonald's announced it was creating barista bars to hock its McCafe gourmet coffee products.

I'll stand by the prediction that neither experiment will last, although it's pretty clear who's doing it better: McDonald's. When I try to think off the top of my head of an ad campaign that is truly succeeding (meaning, it's memorable, people talk about it, and you remember whom it's for), I think of the McDonald's McCafe spots. You know the ads. There's one with two guys, one with two women. Each follows the same "unmasking" formula: Closeted regular folk remove their veils of snobbery under the reverse enlightenment of the golden arches.

Because my biggest pet peeve about American culture is the latent hostility toward curiosity and intellect that emerges during each presidential election, it pains me to admit that these ads are very good. Why? Because they fit the brand. McDonald's isn't actually trying to be Starbucks (and it's not; the iced hazelnut coffee I tried a week ago was god-awful). It's saying that its products are low-attitude.

The ads are memorable because they're expertly written, acted and edited. People talk about them because they're funny and they strike a universal chord (all people feel the pressure to act contrary to their true natures in some way every day). And you remember whom they're for because their ultimate message travels with, not against, the grain of how we already perceive McDonald's.

True, I'll be surprised if the barista bars are still around in 10 years, but until then, well done, Ronald.