"The meek shall inherit squat."

Sermon From the Mount

April 23, 2010

Messaging and The IKEA Effect.

In Predictably Irrational, author Dan Ariely describes the phenomenon whereby human beings naturally attach a lot more positive emotion to possessions that present a bit of challenge to obtain. He calls this The IKEA Effect.


Marketing messages can work the same way. Sometimes “Some Assembly Required” can be a very powerful thing.

This happy airplane helps American Express earn trust.

This happy yellow airplane proves I'm smart and helps American Express earn trust.

My current favorite example of this is the American Express “Don’t Take Chances, Take Charge” TV campaign in which everyday objects like clothing, furniture, a shower curtain and even a pair of closet doors (my favorite vignette) wear sad faces while the voiceover describes how they might get stolen, lost or broken. The faces turn happy as the copy tells us how Amex insures purchases against those very vicissitudes.

Aside from the fact that these are perfectly-crafted little films (the Bach cello music is a brilliant accompaniment, by the way), what I find particularly riveting about the ads is that you need to watch them for a few seconds to get the joke. It’s not immediately apparent that the wallet, mug of cappuccino and leather chair are “sad”. But, by the time your brain can actually form the concept of “hey, what’s going on here?”, the coin drops, the light goes on, the synapses fire and your brain sighs with relief. “I get it. I feel good. Thank you for proving how smart I am, American Express. Now I feel good about myself and I feel good about you, too.”


If you want me to trust you, don’t prove that you’re smart. Prove that I’m smart.


I can’t claim to have any research right here in my hands that demonstrates the efficacy of the American Express commercials, but I do know that Drumcircle just completed a project for a big retailer in which we discovered the real, emotional components of this elusive thing called “trust.” One somewhat counter-intuitive “aha” was this: if you want me to trust you, don’t try to prove how much smarter than me you are (as aside: this has some pretty significant implications for any organization that sells “expertise”; whether that expertise is in home theater systems, enterprise resource planning or even marketing strategy).

Instead, make me feel smart.

There are a lot of ways to make a customer feel smart. One real good one is to let them do some of the final assembly of your message all by themselves. They’ll value the message more highly (according to Dan Ariely) and you may just earn a little bit more of their trust in the process.

February 26, 2010

Real Branding Hurts*

There are hundreds of definitions for branding. There are even dozens of good ones.

The difference is, in marketing, it's the brander who hurts instead of the brandee.

The difference is, in marketing, it's the brander who hurts instead of the brandee.

For the moment, let’s consider this one:

Branding is the process of making one company’s products distinct from similar products offered by competitive companies.

Sure, it’s overly simplistic but let’s go with it for now.

Just as there are hundreds of definitions for branding, there are hundreds of ways to make one product distinct from another. We can invent distinctive, new features and functions, create distinctive, new ways to benefit customers, find distinctive, new ways to communicate about features and benefits (even if those features and benefits are not especially distinctive and new). And we can imbue our products with distinctive, intangible qualities that some customers will find enticing.

But not all customers. The process of making a product distinctive requires us to define exactly who we’re going to try to entice and exactly who we’re going to risk turning off. And that’s why branding – real branding - hurts.

“But, I don’t want to turn my back on potential sales”

Having the guts to walk away from something is just as important as having the fortitude to embrace something. That’s hard to do because “I don’t want to turn my back on potential sales.” But, think about it this way; what if you could be reasonably sure that the “customers” you’re walking away from would never really be your customers anyway? What if you could know that they’re so in thrall to your competitors that spending one more dollar on them would be foolish? And what if you could focus all your attention on people who are most likely to find your offer appealing?**

Bank of America is a 900-pound silverback of a brand. Bank of America can afford to be all things to all people. Or it can afford to try. Wainwright Bank, based in Boston, MA, cannot, so they’ve made the conscious decision to be “the socially responsible bank” (my words, not theirs; don’t come after me, Wainwright folks, I’m a big fan) and to appeal to people who find that enticing. You can follow this link and read in detail how well Wainwright’s doing with this strategy.*** I wouldn’t have used them as an example if their results weren’t pretty remarkable.

Cannibals need love too


If you’re a company with a portfolio of multiple brands, sometimes real branding means letting one of your brands take share from another. Procter & Gamble and Campbell’s Soup are great at this and they’re thriving. Their attitude is “if anybody is going to carve off a chunk of our business, it’s going to be us.” General Motors is lousy at it and, well, we’ve picked on the U.S. auto industry enough.


But, even for marketers who are good at it, it’s painful. For somebody like a CMO, it requires a clear vision, an iron will and the ability to turn a slightly deaf ear to the righteous indignation of the brand managers who are getting cannibalized.


John Mellencamp, marketing strategist


When you do it right, branding hurts. Sometimes it means walking away from what seem like potential sales. Sometimes it means allowing one of your brands to encroach on another, and may the best brand win. But if the real goal of branding is to make what you’re selling distinct from similar offerings from competitors (and, let’s all be real honest, the are a lot of similar offerings available) then the hard choices have to be made by people who are comfortable with discomfort.

Next time you’re facing one of those hard choices, hum a few bars of Hurts So Good. Maybe that will make it easier. But it probably won’t.

_______________

* This post was inspired by my good friend and client, Phil Jones of AGCO Corporation. Thanks, Mr. Jones.

** Exactly how to go about doing this will have to be the subject of a future entry. Short answer: call Drumcircle at 617.395.1636 and ask for Bill.

*** I’ll bet that the Wainwright folks don’t see this as a strategy so much as A Way Of Being. A Mission. A Raison d’être. And that beats a wimpy old strategy any time.

December 12, 2009

We’re all selling “tiny transformations and elements of identity”. Or, at least we should be.

This will be the second entry in six months in which I praise the work of Malcolm Gladwell. But let’s be honest; the man can write about earwax and make it absolutely fascinating. So imagine what he does with the subject of how the marketing of hair dye has evolved since the Eisenhower administration.

Maybe you market roofing nails and maybe you market hair dye. What tiny bit of transformation are you offering your customers that your competitors aren't?

Maybe you market roofing nails and maybe you market hair dye. What tiny bit of transformation are you offering your customers that your competitors aren't?

In Mr. Gladwell’s latest book, What The Dog Saw, in the essay called “True Colors”, he does such an exquisite job of crystallizing what we all do for a living (or what we all should be doing if we’re really good at our jobs) that I’m compelled to share it (not that Mr. Gladwell needs my help to secure his nearly perpetual position on the New York Times Best Sellers List).

This is the kind of material you can quote and have people think you’re one erudite and articulate sucker.

“…all of us, when it comes to constructing our sense of self, borrow bits and pieces, ideas and phrases, rituals and products from the world around us – over-the-counter ethnicities that shape, in some small but meaningful way, our identities. Our religion matters, the music we listen to matters, the clothes we wear matter, the food we eat matters – and our brand of hair dye matters, too.

“…products offer something that songs and poems and political movements and radical ideologies do not, which is an immediate and affordable means of transformation (the italics are mine)”

Sure, the brand of hair dye we choose matters. And so do the brands of soda, financial products, eye drops, farm implements, soup, light bulbs, executive training, life insurance and galvanized roofing nails that we choose. Whatever we’re selling, we’re all purveyors of tiny transformations and elements of identity.

This may strike some of us as a “well, duh.” But, in this case, the well duh is such a beautiful distillation of an important point that I believe it’s worthy of repetition.


And, for others, it may open a fresh eye through which to observe the people we hope to sell to. What tiny transformation are you offering? How does what you sell fit into a persons’ identity (and don’t give me some tired response like “that sort of thing is fine if you’re selling perfume but I’m selling drywall supplies”. That sort of narrow thinking was debunked about the time Decartes’ Error was published).

If you sell life insurance, maybe you can have a small part in transforming a couple of customers from a mom and dad into “good providers.” If you sell roofing nails, perhaps you can help transform some random guy with a hammer into a “creator of shelter.”

It’s fun to think about. Almost as much fun as reading a Malcolm Gladwell book.

December 9, 2009

Why every single brand of insurance, detergent, appliance, light bulb, motor oil, plant food, rental car, investment service and galvanized roofing nail needs “taste copy”.

When I was a young copywriter I had the privilege of working on several Anheuser-Busch beer brands (to be clear, I was one of a small army of young copywriters and art directors sharing that privilege). One of the great parts of that job was attending Beer School, where we learned about the magic of beechwood aging, what several tons of hops and malted barley smell like (delicious), what Clydesdales smell like (also, surprisingly delicious) and the difference between lager and pilsner.

One of the non-great parts of that job, at least to a young copywriter’s  way of looking at the world, was being forced to internalize the sacred mantras of the Anheuser-Busch brands’ “taste copy.”

Whether they were "rich and smooth", "smooth and mellow" or "crisp and clean", as a young copywriter, the mandatory :taste copy" made me nuts. As a not-so-young marketer, I find it not only darned smart, but worthy of stealing.

Whether they tasted "rich and smooth", "smooth and mellow" or "crisp and clean", as a young copywriter, Anheuser-Busch's mandatory taste copy made me nuts. As a not-so-young branding strategist, I find it not only darned smart, but an idea that's well worth stealing.

Each A-B brand had a set of words - mostly adjectives – that were used to describe the particular flavor of that particular brand. Budweiser was always “distinctively crisp and clean.” Michelob was always “smooth and mellow”. Michelob Light was always “rich and smooth.”

Those words were to appear in that order in every piece of communication, whether it was a TV commercial or a coupon ad. And woe betide the high-spirited, creative puppy who took it upon him or herself to “improve” on this situation.

Of course, at the time, being high-spirited, young creative puppies, we rankled under these…rules. Wasn’t it our job to push hard at this boundary? Wasn’t it our duty to rend and sunder rules like these?

In fact, no, it wasn’t.

Especially not if we ever wanted to see our work produced. So, we all grumbled and cracked, dark, cynical jokes and “crisped” and “mellowed” until our fingers grew numb on the dull, gray keys of our beige IBM Selectrics.

Now, flash forward a decade or two and bear witness to this former creative puppy beseeching clients to work together with their researchers, planners and creatives to craft, agree on and enforce the use of “taste copy” for every brand.

Taste copy for every brand of what? Every brand of everything.

As young creatives, all we could see was that the fascistically-dictated taste copy prevented us from stretching our creative wings and describing Michelob as “brisk and refreshing.” What we didn’t see was all the good things the taste copy did:

  • It stopped territorial squabbles between client-side brand teams before they could even start. Budweiser owned crisp and clean. Michelob owned smooth and mellow. Period. There was nothing to discuss. Dismissed. Go sell more beer.
  • It streamlined the work because nobody at the agency or the client got bogged down reacting to focus groups’ opinions about whether or not Michelob Light really tasted “rich”. It did. It said so in the taste copy.
  • And, perhaps best of all, at least from a pure, marketing standpoint, the taste copy enforced consistency of message across all media. And this is where the concept becomes especially relevant today.

Back when I was pecking out the fifteenth variation on Michelob Light for the Winners or This Bu’d For You, “across all media” pretty much meant TV, radio, outdoor and print. Now it means all that plus web, earned, viral, social, guerrilla, buzz and body art. Which is terrific. But since creating content for each of those media can conceivably be handled by a different set of people, enforcing a consistent description of your product, what it does, how it works and what it stands for begins to look a lot less like creative handcuffs and a lot more like common sense.

Please. Use the handcuffs.

The harder trick, of course, is to create the right “copy” - I’m using that term in its loosest sense, to mean the core message that pins a brand in the heart and mind of it’s intended buyer - that not only appeals to the senses, but also to peoples’ need to make emotional connections with the brands they buy. It’s not easy because people are not necessarily willing to admit (in many cases they’re not even aware) that their choice of insurance company, light bulb or analgesic is making a critical emotional connection for them. But finding those connections – or, more specifically, finding where there may be a lack of connection and crafting your brand to make one – is the most important job marketers have in this rip-off-your-features-and-undercut-your-price world.

So, by whatever means possible, discover the emotional connections that your brand can make, craft your “taste copy” accordingly (plug: one real good way to accomplish this is to hire Drumcircle. End of plug), then enforce the use of that copy with draconian ruthlessness. Demand to see it everywhere your brand is written about and to hear it each time your brand is spoken of. Defy anyone to “improve” it.

And if, by chance, somebody does come up with something better, well, buy them a beer.

August 19, 2009

I’m Lovin’ It. Carl’s Jr. Consistently Brings Automatic Weapons To A Knife Fight.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Big Carl. 1,400+ calories and $0.50 less than a wimpy, 700 calorie Big Mac.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Big Carl. 1,400+ calories and $0.50 less than a wimpy, 700 calorie Big Mac.

McDonald’s is McHuge. McGlobal. McMonolithic. So if it’s your job to try to nibble away little chunks of business from Micky D’s, (like, for instance, if you’re the marketing team for Carl’s Jr.), you don’t wake up every morning looking for new ways to play fair.

And, to be fair, they haven’t. Carl’s has probably done the best job of any marketer lately at scoring tons of free eyeball time and brain space by deliberately cultivating outrage through the overt sexualization of sandwiches. It doesn’t matter what I think of their efforts. All that matters is what what burger-loving males between the ages of, say, 14 and 24 with three bucks in their pocket think of them.

OK. I'll admit that I didn't even know who Audrina Patridge is until I reaad that a bunch of mommy bloggers had complained about this Carl's Jr. viral video.

OK. I'll admit that I didn't even know who Audrina Patridge is until I read that a bunch of people were complaining in blogs about this Carl's Jr. "Bikini Burger" viral video. Well, say what you will about Audrina's gold lame swimsuit. Carl's closeup food footage blows the pickles off most of what you see on the air these days. That is a tasty-looking burger.

So, I’m not even going to comment on “Soapy Paris Hilton on a Bentley” or “I Like Flat Buns” (by the way, Carl’s used Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” years before Burger King forced mommies to cover the eyes of their Sponge Bob loving kiddos), because their latest street fightin’ tactic is something that just about everybody in marketing has always dreamed of doing (come on, admit it) but never got to because it was “too risky”, “too hard”, or “we’ll get letters.” And, whatever you think of Audrina Partridge and her “Bikini Burger”, the Carl’s team deserves some serious props for this one.

According to today’s Wall Street Journal, Carl’s has taken to parking a flashy, heavily branded mobile kitchen in front of select McDonald’s restaurants, waylaying customers as they’re walking out and offering to swap Big Macs (Beef content = 3.2oz) for Big Carls (Beef content = 7oz).

And, since Carl’s has learned to use YouTube the way Procter & Gamble uses “One Life To Live”, we can expect to see some juicy footage emerge from this. If they’re really lucky, maybe they’ll catch a McDonald’s manager going all Christian Bale on some innocent kid in a paper hat in the Carl’s Mobile Diner. Good for you, Carl’s team. Fight on. If you had restaurants in Massachusetts, I’d go scarf a couple of Big Angus Burgers (I think those are Paris’ faves) just to say thank you for reminding us all not to be such big, cluckin’ chickens.

July 15, 2009

“Facts are the enemy of truth.” So said Miguel de Cervantes, 16th Century Spanish novelist and, apparently, savvy marketing guy.

I think Seth Godin is a heck of a bright fellow and I especially admire him when he expresses (beautifully) ideas that align with Drumcircle’s worldview.

For example, in his blog today, entitled Facts always win, right?, he writes about how marketers, especially B2B marketers, are far too prone to rely on facts as reasons people should buy their products.

Young man, your presentation on 3/8-inch, high-capacity chisel point staples interested me. But it didn't move me.

Young man, your presentation on 3/8-inch, high-capacity chisel point staples interested me. But it didn't move me.

Says Seth:

“If you’re selling a business to business service and you can prove that it’s better, that it delivers more value, that it’s cheaper or more durable or more efficient, shouldn’t that mean you will close every sale?”

Of course, we all know it doesn’t work that way. Nobody closes every sale. And there are dozens of fat books and scholarly papers on neuroscience, decision-making and marketing that explain why: they’ll never admit it, they’ll probably never even know it, but even the most spreadsheet-obsessed, abacus-wielding, thy-Likert-scale-guideth-and comforteth-me businessperson will still always buy what feels right rather than what - at least according to the manufacturer - is right (a more neuroscientifically accurate way to say it is that we buy what feels right, then convince ourselves that it is right by looking to all those facts).

The truth is, building a sales pitch solely on facts and product attributes is risky. After all, a competitor can drop prices, introduce a more durable product, incorporate a secret ingredient or win some important industry award. Suddenly you’re in a facts arms race. Suddenly, you’re working hard to “out-fact” your competitors instead of outsell them.

Without even knowing it, Seth Godin captures in four paragraphs the potency of what Drumcircle calls Message Architecture™. It’s an important part of how we help clients move from feature/function/fact-driven, transactional marketing to connection-driven, Emotivational™ marketing.

Stick to the facts. Just stick them on the bottom.

Message Architecture isn't advertising copy, but it has been known to inspire more emotionally engaging advertising copy.

Message Architecture isn't advertising copy, but it has been known to inspire more emotionally engaging advertising copy (click the picture for a larger view)

In almost every Drumcircle engagement there’s a session called an Emotivation Workshop. In these half-day sessions, we work together with our clients (and anyone else they’d like to include) to craft a new, more effective Message Architecture for their products or brands.

These new messages are always constructed from the bottom up, in three linguistic “stories”, like the illustration on the left (click it for a version you can actually read).

As with any good structure, Message Architecture has to be built on a firm foundation. In this case, it’s all the facts and features that make what we’re selling great: we’ve got the biggest, fastest, oldest, newest, freshest, lightest, heaviest, you get the picture.

Continuing the architectural analogy, the middle story is where the work gets done. It’s where we elaborate on the benefits customers derive from all those great features and facts in the first layer.

The top layer is derived from a unique, emotional insight discovered during the course of the project. This insight is the answer to the question “what, exactly, does right feel like?”

Whether our client is selling baby shoes, copier paper or auto service, there’s always an emotional need within the potential purchaser that goes much deeper than shoes, paper or an oil change. The closer we can come to acknowledging and filling that need, the more right our offering will feel.

This is how we’ll out-connect, out motivate and outsell competitors.

This is where we’ll demonstrate that We Understand the deep, emotional need.

This is where we’ll make our offering feel right (if our assignment is to help develop a new product concept, we’ll work together to design the new product so that every aspect of it, from components to packaging to promotion, not only feels right, but is right).

We don’t have feelings about facts. We accept the facts that fit our feelings.

It’s important to keep in mind that, while Message Architecture is built from the bottom up, people perceive and react to it from the top down. We Understand makes people look (“Why, they’re speaking directly to me…), We Can Do Great Things For You makes them pay attention (…and they’re telling me things that benefit me, personally) and, finally, We’re Great gives them reason to believe (I knew I was right to look and listen, after all, look how great these people are!).

Facts, features and functions are important parts of marketing communication. But in Message Architecture and in human psychology, they come dead last in the process of making a sale. And that’s good. Because, if some competitor comes in and cuts your facts out from under you, but you’ve done a good job convincing people that you understand and are doing great things for them, that powerful, emotional connection can buy you some time to build yourself some new facts (if you find you even still need them).

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