Don't Be Afraid of Specificity, Part II

With apologies to my readers, I'm finding that I can't let go of the "specificity" idea. Ever since I wrote about it last month, I feel as though I've been bombarded by additional examples of the necessity for specificity (say that three times really fast).

The example I've even started to use in meetings ... whether we're talking about products, services or story ideas ... is "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." We all remember the movie, right? It was a huge, global, overnight cinematic sensation. Yes, even I (a movie snob) saw it. Yes, I laughed all the way through. No, I never watched a minute of the spin-off TV series. Now imagine if this conversation had taken place with a studio development executive when Nia Vardalos was pitching the idea:

"It's called 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding.'"
"Greek, huh?"
"Yes, Greek."
"Not many Greeks in this country."
"There are millions, but that's not the point ... "
"Kind of alienating to only focus on Greeks, don't you think?"
"The point is, the movie can apply to any number of cultures."
"Not sure what you mean."
"Italians, Mexicans, maybe even Irish ... they'd all identify with these characters."
"Then why say 'Greek'?"
"Because I'm Greek. I know Greeks."
"But we need to be inclusive. No Irish person is going to see a movie with 'Greek' in the title."
"Sure they will, once the word of mouth spreads."
"Either we take out the 'Greek' or we consider doing different versions for each ethnic group. And that would be expensive."
"You don't have to do either. Trust me, these characters are universal."
"If they're universal, then why make them Greek?"
"Because I know Greeks, like I said ... "
"If Greeks are universal, then why is there anything to 'get to know'?"
"Have you even read the script?"
"Pass. Got anything else?"
"I've got a buddy flick about cops where one guy is super straight and the other one is totally crazy."
"Tell me more ... "

This Is What Brand Confusion Looks Like

It may appear as though I only comment on branding as it relates to coffee companies. Understandable, since it is a passion of mine. The moral of the story here is, if you're going to change your logo, flip a switch. Don't say "we'll do it gradually" or "we'll do cup sleeves in a phase one, and cups themselves in a phase two."

Are You a Philosopher or an Economist?

When I started my personal blog, my fourth post (dated May 1, 2007) was called "Philosophy & Economics." Sounds riveting, doesn't it? Apparently I had been on an audiobook bender, and I had filled my head with, among other things, a history of the great Greek philosophers, and "Freakonomics" by economist Stephen Leavitt. As esoteric as the topic may sound, I still hold to the fundamental idea: Philosophy is about how the world should be; economics is about how the world is.

The question is, are you a philosopher or an economist?

Most people, including entrepreneurs and marketing professionals, vacillate between the two, and this was never more clearly expressed than in a book I recently finished: "Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time," by Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz. Starbucks started with a philosopher's mindset; it was out to introduce good coffee to the United States--specifically dark-roasted Arabica beans. It's easy to forget now, but before Starbucks, America lived on Brim. (Without Starbucks starting the movement, I wouldn't have the luxury of drinking coffee at superior local haunts like Kopplins.) Starbucks established the coffee bean and roast it thought superior, then, like any evangelist, set out to educate and convert the masses. And it worked. The product was radical at the time. It aroused curiosity and spread by word of mouth, one person at a time. And remember, Starbucks originally only sold beans and coffee-makers. It didn't serve actual brewed coffee or espresso.

Then Schultz went to Italy and experienced the espresso bar. He decided that serving espresso was the logical next step for Starbucks. He faced massive resistance from the company's founders. It was anything but a smooth transition. In fact, Schultz had to resign from Starbucks, start his own company, and then buy Starbucks back. But it happened. Still thinking like philosophers, Starbucks sought to educate the public. It maintained strict parameters on how it served espresso. And it worked, as people flocked to the then-new drink in droves.

But then things got interesting. Competitors started popping up and were more willing to think like economists. They might not have had the same quality of bean, but they were open to doing some things its customers wanted that Starbucks was not willing to do. For example, they served lattes with skim milk vs. whole. Starbucks refused to do so because skim milk affects the quality and taste of the drink. Starbucks customers started to complain. And more important, walk across the street to competitors. Starbucks was caught in the middle between philosophy and economics. It had build a customer base (but not achieved profitability) based on strict quality, but its business plan required massive growth to be profitable. At what point did it need to stop preaching and starting listening? And at what point would that mean selling its soul?

Schultz decided to think like an economist, and Starbucks began allowing skim milk to be used in its espresso drinks. Some people would say this was the beginning of the end for Starbucks; many others would argue that it was the beginning of the beginning.

Much as it's fun to rip Starbucks for all kinds of things (the greatest Onion headline of all time was "Starbucks Opens in Rest Room of Existing Starbucks"), Schultz has by and large managed to navigate the philosopher/economist tempest pretty damn well. He's never compromised on the bean or the brewing, so by being a philosopher, he's managed to beat lower-quality competitors like Gloria Jeans. But by also being an economist, he's profitably introduced frappucinos, Starbucks ice cream and even music into the mix (all the result of customer suggestions or employees' ideas). He sums it up by pointing out that Starbucks will add hazelnut syrup to a drink if a customer requests it, but it will never sell a bag of hazelnut-flavored beans. Believe it or not, that actually makes sense when you read the book.

I do think Starbucks officially lost its way with the introduction of VIA instant coffee ... a case I made in a previous visual post. And of course they've had to scale back in recent years. The company is certainly not perfect. Its reputation has always been more corporate than it views itself, but it has also been a rather exemplary corporate citizen when it comes to employee ownership and health benefits.

It's easy to be a rigid philosopher, but philosophers end up frustrated and bitter because few people think exactly like them. It's also easy to be a free-wheeling economist, but pure economic thinkers ultimately stand for nothing other than making money. What's terribly, terribly difficult is to walk that tightrope and make good decisions that lean one way or the other ... to listen to your audience without compromising your integrity. It's not a terribly sexy idea, and there's no public award for it. But in my book, it's actually the key to real success.

The "We Get It" Movement

A marketing movement that's been building for a few years now has finally reached the mainstream. I call it the "we get it" movement. Sure, it's probably geared mostly for the so-called Digital Native consumer population, but it actually has a much wider appeal. It goes like this:

For decades, advertising has lived in the Patronizing Age. This is the time when advertisers surely must have thought you were stupid. They assumed that you would buy whatever they were selling without realizing what's actually going in their ads. And the ads were, in retrospect, ridiculous.

The We Get It Movement says, "Listen, you and I get it. We see through all the B.S. the other people fall into. We're smarter than they are. (Wink.)"

The first ad that I can remember with this tone came from the Target Market anti-tobacco campaign. A series of kids looked into the camera and delivered blisteringly sarcastic lines to the tobacco industry. I can't recall the specifics, but I picture a kid looking into the camera and saying (with all the mock sincerity in the world), "If you show me a cartoon camel smoking a cigarette, I'll think it's cool." The campaign was shocking for its absolute rejection of the "Just-Say-No" marketing that dominated the airwaves at that time. The strategy was completely different: Instead of talking AT people and trying to demonize an entire industry, the idea was to let the "victims" speak, thus emasculating an industry by showing how the target market sees through its infantile tactics.

Now the idea is officially mainstream, because Kotex is running its high-buzz UbyKotex campaign not only on YouTube, but during American Idol. If you haven't seen the spots, they're quite hilarious. They achieve the "we get it" factor by basically making fun of the entire history of feminine hygiene product advertising. But the strategy is more than satirical; it's really about complimenting the audience and ushering in a whole new inside-joke vibe with the super-marketing-savvy consumer. I'm not exactly the target market for Kotex, but I'd be surprised if the strategy (and its resulting tactics) aren't paying huge dividends in the aisle I usually avoid.

Don't Be Afraid of Specificity

Since I just covered the issue of "Fear of the Negative," I might as well address a similar fear that tends to work against marketing goals: Speciphobia, the fear of being specific.

This is an understandable language issue in marketing. From a legal standpoint, you often can't be too specific without opening up some level of exposure and risk. The problem is, from a pure communication standpoint, people love specificity. As consumers, we want to know exactly what we're getting, exactly what we're saving, exactly what you can do for me, and exactly what you want me to do.

In fact, I would argue that in the media-saturated chaos that now engulfs us, we're positively lost without specificity. Three examples come to mind (a specific number, see?):

1. Twitter, as we all know by now, lets you say anything you want to say, but only in 140 characters. Why 140? No reason, other than it's a restriction that forces you to act within it, and thus makes the entire platform more usable and interesting.

2. The idea of "buying local" has been around for decades, but why has it suddenly gained traction? Because an enterprising local consultant named Cinda Baxter started The 3/50 Project. The idea: Think of three local businesses you'd miss if they went away; and commit to spending $50 a month at those and other independent, locally owned businesses. "Buy local" is an empty platitude. "Support three businesses at $50/month" is a call to action.

3. Everyone wants to make a movie. Everyone imagines writing the great American novel. Now, with projects like the 48 Hour Film Project and NaNoWriMo, millions are getting into the act. You mean I only have 48 hours to make a movie? (Some contests have shortened it to 24). I only have a month write a novel? That's crazy. Okay, I'll do it.

Specificity sounds risky. We too often assume that it will alienate people. In fact, it usually has the exact opposite effect. Specificity eases understanding and incites action. So the next time you think it's good enough to say that your product or service "drives performance" or "leverages core assets," think again. Give me a number.

Telling the Story

Just wanted to share this video produced by Conk Creative with 185 Media (sorry for the chopped aspect ratio; this is the smallest YouTube will allow, and the right side still gets cut off).

This is going to be an ongoing series that tells the story of HealthPartners, which is really the story of prepaid medical insurance itself (something we take for granted).

I did a lot of similar work back in the day at West Publishing, and you'd be surprised how effective pieces like this are, especially for new and existing employees. People want to know more than what you do and how you do it. They really crave an understanding of WHY you do it.

Don't Be Afraid of Negative Language

Much has been written about the importance of being positive all the time. Rubbish.

Not to get too scientific about a largely subjective industry, but basically our brains are huge prediction machines. We have big brains so that we can recognize patterns (such as people's expressions) and be able to predict how things are likely to affect us. To see patterns, we need contrast. To see black, we need white, and vice versa. Studies have shown that people who strike a purely positive or negative attitude regardless of the actual circumstances are doomed to make bad decisions.

Yet when it comes to marketing language, I've seen my own pattern for over 10 years: "We can't be negative." Don't get me wrong. If that's a response to someone proposing a tagline of "We're not as bad as our competitors," I understand. But it's gotten to the point where people are unwilling to even use the word "don't" in their copy or taglines. This is not helpful.

I did a little research and found some of the more famous taglines that incorporate so-called "negative" language. See if you can remember the company represented by each tagline:

We don't make a lot of the products you buy. We make a lot of the products you buy better.
It's not just shipping. It's ________.
Don't leave home without it.
It's not just for breakfast anymore.
Never let 'em see you sweat.
Don't get mad. Get ____.
The uncola.

Do these taglines strike you as negative, or do they provide clarity? Obviously, I think the latter. (Although I've never understood the first tagline. If you don't make products I buy, then why do I need to know who you are?)

Go back to a fundamental truism of marketing: People are busy. You can't waste their time. That means you need to tell them what you do. And to do that, you sometimes also need to tell them what you don't do. In fact, you can almost feel the relief in the air when someone says, "No, we don't do that." I've reached a point where I don't trust anyone who can't tell me what they don't do, or what they're not good at. Kudos to Domino's Pizza for using real negative consumer feedback in their newest ad campaign. It made me trust them, and it made we want to try their pizza again for the first time in years.

If contrast is your friend, then "negative language" is at least your drinking buddy. If you want the yin, you have to have the yang, because "positive" and "negative" can't be defined except in contrast to each other. In considering what you or your company does, start with what you don't do, as well as what "negative" problem you solve. After all, you can't have a Band-aid without an owy. You can't have a firefighter without fire. And you can't have a pain reliever without pain.

Don't you not disagree?