Commodity Logic

I first heard the phrase months ago from a friend and colleague in the same industry. A client of his wanted to busy up a magazine ad with the logic, "Hey, if we're paying for paper and ink, we might as well use it."

I shrugged it off as an isolated incident. Surely this is only the mindset of less-experienced marketing professionals at smaller organizations. Right?

Wrong. The same thing happened on another one of his projects--this one funded by a rather well-known, highly successful Twin Cities entrepreneur. The product: a catalog. The comment: "As long as we're paying for paper and ink, we might as well use it."

I won't get into the details of what was being discussed, but suffice it to say, if you've seen the brilliant Stop Sign Video, it was about adding more to the stop sign (and making it half blue, half pink).

The Commodity Mindset is so wrong on so many levels, the riffing analogies are almost too numerous to fathom:

"Excuse me, Senor Picasso, but as long as I'm paying for canvas and oils, could you add something more to that painting... something besides cubes?"

"Sorry, Herr Mozart, but as long as I'm paying for the 20 violinists, could you please add a movement?"

"Yes, Albert, it's very clever. But as long as I'm paying for your research, could you add another letter to e=mc2?"

Don't obsess on the individual commodities of your marketing. Think about the final product from the perspective of the audience. In a crowded world, "less is more" is usually the way to go.

Focus vs. Inclusion Part III

This was originally on YouTube and then removed. Now it's back on a different site, so I'm including the link:

What If There Were No Stop Signs?

Sure, it's a little... uh, slanted toward the agency perspective. But it's an excellent portrayal of life from the creative side.

Best line: "We're targeting men secondarily."

What Do the iPhone and Working with an Agency Have in Common?

I'm not a gadget head. I'm not a first adopter. I've never been a Mac Whacko. But now that's all changed, thanks to the iPhone. Especially thanks to the latest OS update.

I won't bore you with a laundry list of what makes the iPhone so addictive. What I think is interesting is this: When it comes to the creative marketing process, the iPhone provides the perfect analogy. Why? Because it's one part rigidity and one part flexibility. One part highbrow, one part lowbrow. One part singular expertise, one part massive collaboration.

The industrial design and user interface represent the first word in each of those pairings. Apple played the role of the exclusive artist and said, basically, screw convention, screw the way things have been done before, screw the entire concept of "buttons." And it created a design and user interface so human-friendly and appealing to the eye, that the mere sight of a Blackberry looks downright troglodytic.

The most recent decision to take a page from Facebook and let people create their own applications ("apps" in common parlance) for the new OS represents the second set of words. Apple controlled what it wanted to control, then it opened the floodgates to outside creativity within its constraints. The result: I've downloaded half a dozen "apps" for my iPhone, including the best device for locating movies and showtimes ever devised (Box Office).

(I've also downloaded two ridiculous apps just for fun: iBeer turns the phone in to a glass of beer where the liquid moves when you tilt the phone. And PhoneSaber turns the phone into a Star Wars light saber that makes sound effects according to the way you move the phone. Don't worry, total cost for both was only $2.99, and I consider it tax deductible.)

There is now a mad dash to create iPhone apps. And that's a good thing. Because it only strengthens the brand by keeping the public intimately engaged. People are using an Apple product to express themselves, which for me is the holy grail of branding.

When you're working with a creative agency, you should expect both sides of this proverbial coin. For any given project to succeed, you need one part "we're the experts, this is what you should do" and one part "you're the client, you know your business, we can be flexible." Too much of either one seldom works.

P.S. Just downloaded the app that turns your phone into bubble wrap that you can pop. Yippee!

What Do Franchise Relations and the Cookie Monster Have in Common?

I've long despised the proliferation of "nerbs" (verbs used as nouns, such as the act of "sunsetting a product line"), but I heard a doozy in a recent client meeting that I think I can get behind.

This is a client with an extensive national franchise network. Last year, they tried a marketing campaign that seemed pretty simple for store owners to understand. Yet, in the end, execution was lacking (didn't they realize that the window clings had to go in a certain order for the design to make sense?). My contact said plainly, "This year, we need to Sesame Street it even more."

Now that's a nerb I can embrace. The truth is, it's not even an insult. I've touted my own version of Sesame Streeting, called "Good Grips Marketing." I remember reading that Good Grips kitchen products, which were intended for arthritic seniors, quickly caught on with the younger set. Why? Because there was something so simple about them, as if they looked at you and said, "Grab me here, and I won't let go." Next, I noticed how car dashboards were getting simplified. No more galaxies of buttons with no clear way of connecting the dots. Suddenly, everything was minimal and big. (It's a feature of my Honda Accord that I still appreciate.)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: If you want someone to do something, make it easy. If you want them to understand something, make it fun. Is this a product of a twee culture that refuses to evolve from childhood? Well, maybe. But I think it's more a reflection of our ridiculously chaotic lives, and the fact that we'll throw our loyalties behind anyone who makes the extra effort to keep things simple.

Random Rewrite #3: Honda

The back cover of the July 2008 Harper's magazine displays a full-page ad for Honda. Blue sky, green grass, a father and son flying kites on a sunny summer day. After a stat showing that Honda has averaged five more miles per gallon than the industry average over the last 15 years, the copy reads:

Higher fuel efficiency, lower greenhouse gas emissions.
That's the power of dedication.

Over the past fifteen years, Honda has achieved the highest average fuel economy of any automaker. Which means our vehicles have emitted less CO2--the primary cause of global warming--on average, than any other car company. All of which enhances our ultimate goal: a cleaner environment.

HONDA
The Power of Dreams

* * *

It's a perfectly good ad, yet it seemed like a bit of a missed opportunity. Thanks to its own forays into hybrid technology, Honda has some legitimate environmental street cred, but the tone favors the advertiser over the audience (when you don't use the second person, you're not really talking to anybody). Plus, coupling "the power of dedication" with "the power of dreams" is a little confusing.

I would have written it slightly differently...

* * *

More miles to your gallon.
Less carbon in your atmosphere.

Spending less money at the pump isn't exactly a new idea. At Honda, we've been leading the charge for more than 15 years. Because giving you the best fuel economy of any automaker isn't just good for your pocketbook, it's better for the environment.

Green innovation is a goal for some automakers. For Honda, it's already a way of doing business.

HONDA
Innovation. Proven.

* * *

Previous Random Rewrites:

#2: AkzoNobel
#1: Nortel

BrandWatch: Leeann Chin

I have a rule of branding thumb that goes something like this: The minute a business that has always been known for one thing suddenly announces a seemingly unrelated thing, count the days until it closes, declares bankruptcy or gets snatched up in a hostile takeover. I call it BrandWatch.

Case in point: Five years ago, a bagel shop near my house stuck neon posters in the windows screaming "Now Selling Smoothies!" It was a jealous response to the popularity of nearby Jamba Juice, and everybody knew it. Within six months, that bagel shop was replaced by a Caribou Coffee. (On the other hand, the mom-and-pop photo developer that also sells umbrellas is mysteriously still in business...)

For several months, BrandWatch has been tracking two stalwart brands: Starbucks, as it retreats to focusing on coffee (a good idea after some overly aggressive food flirtations), and McDonald's, as it rolls out its premium coffee McCafes (an undeniably good revenue stream with a fantastic advertising campaign that should be another short-lived experiment).

Now, as of today, I've added Leeann Chin to the Watch. Why? Because new owner Lorne Goldberg has updated the menu (good), painted the walls lime and vermilion (great) and introduced Red Cherry Frozen Yogurt (what?).

Don't get me wrong. I picked up dinner at one of these new stores last night. The decor is lively. The menu is easier to understand. And the Red Cherry Yogurt display is a nice little eye-catcher with an attractive logo. But frozen yogurt? Personally, I go to Leeann Chin to deceive myself that I'm being healthy while eating sugary breaded meats (sesame chicken...yum) on top of carbalicious fried rice. Do I want to top that off with some frozen yogurt concoction that takes me back to the mid-80s? For me, the answer is a definite no; Leeann Chin might as well sell umbrellas. We'll see what the market decides.

Do You Have the Attention Span to Read This Post?

It all started when a friend of mine was talking about her experience teaching high school kids. We were on the subject of plagiarism and how the web enables it. The conversation shifted to the larger issue of IAIQO: Instantly Accessible Information of Questionable Origin, and that's when I learned something unexpected.

"My students don't check their sources and don't check the facts; they just cut and paste," my friend said. "But it's not because they're lazy. It's because they don't even understand the basic concept of synthesizing information, drawing their own conclusions and writing them down."

Wow, that's scary, I thought. It's as if the web is actually changing basic human cognition.

Enter the Atlantic Monthly. This month's cover story ("Is Google Making Us Stoopid?"), absolutely floored me with these opening remarks from author Nicholas Carr:

"I’m not thinking the way I used to think. I can feel it most strongly when I’m reading. Immersing myself in a book or a lengthy article used to be easy. My mind would get caught up in the narrative or the turns of the argument, and I’d spend hours strolling through long stretches of prose. That’s rarely the case anymore. Now my concentration often starts to drift after two or three pages. I get fidgety, lose the thread, begin looking for something else to do. I feel as if I’m always dragging my wayward brain back to the text. The deep reading that used to come naturally has become a struggle."

What floored me was the realization that Carr was describing me. I've had this exact same feeling lately, and I've been getting a little worried. Is my reading material just not as arresting as it used to be? Is my brain beginning its inevitable decline already?

Now, after finishing the article (well, almost... I got distracted), I'm wondering if technology is actually changing the way I think. I had come to think of A.D.D. as a scapegoat among adults--an enabling acronym used as cover for people who just don't like details. On the marketing side of things, I've long thought that the line of communication demarcation was the age of 30: over 30, narrative good; under 30, just show pretty pictures (or ask them to talk about themselves). Now it looks as though there's more of a spectrum at work, with the lines getting blurrier as human brains adapt themselves to the media we use, rather than the other way around.

I don't know what else to say about this development, except that in the course of writing this, I've received five emails and two IMs, checked the Dow, added my sister to my Facebook friends and... wait, my son is crying about something.

Did anyone make it to the end of this post?