You Are Not What You Do

Company owners who may take their work personally are oftened cautioned, "You are not what you do."

I agree with the above-stated, but through entirely different reasoning.

In business, it is not what you do that defines you, but rather what your competition doesn't do that should define you.

In a never-ending struggle to get (and stay) noticed, separate yourself from other companies by doing something that is unique not to your company, but to the marketplace itself.

Explore fringe products and services and try offering something that has not yet been offered. The recipe is simple enough: Dare to be different and customer attention will follow in waves.

A scenario:

With the marketplace as crowded as it is, another pool company or dentist advertising through direct mail must try something drastic to get the jaded customer to change his or her routine or service provider. 

Offering an enticing discount on the scrubbing of pool decking or teeth has been done before. Coupons -- done. Free gift -- done.

Instead, explore what copywriters Gary Blake and Robert Bly call the "Ah Ha" moment, where you present them with something innovative or educational. Don't just tell customers that you are different than the others, show them.

In boxing, success stems from beating your opponent to the punch. In marketing, the same holds true.

A Lesson in Saving

One of the many things I did before moving from Brooklyn to Phoenix, I bought a tall, yellow piggy bank shaped like a crayon.

I spent several months filling it with a few pounds of spare change that I had amassed and then gifted it to my two nieces and nephew.

A natural mother and gifted teacher, my sister, Sara, waxed poetic to her kids about the importance of saving before giving them the gift.

The kids seemed as impressed by the noise the bright yellow skyscraper made when it was shaken as they were with the fact that they had trouble tipping it over.

I emptied the savings jar from my memory shortly after leaving town.

Today, Sara called and let me know that the kids had finally topped off the jar.

They had saved their pennies, nickels and dimes and were now en route to the toy store to purchase some new toys with the $335 they had collected. A savings lesson well learned, I thought.

My sister continued. The new toys would be donated to the children of a less fortunate family; her own kids were happy to do so.

Two-and-a-half years after Sara's kids were given the piggy bank with the intention of teaching them a lesson about saving, they had taught me a lesson in return. 

I saw the jar and thought $avings, they saw the same jar and saw savings. My sister's beautiful children received the gift and saved not money, but another's childhood.

Velvet Rope

Author, marketer and captivating public speaker Seth Godin writes in his book Free Prize Inside about the power of creating a "free prize" to build a customer base. The free prize can include anything from free catalogs and brochures to good customer service.

One such demonstration of a free prize is the line wrapping around the block -- chock full of partygoers eager to get past the doorman and into the club. Wrapped in velvet rope, the prize is the acceptance, not entrance, into a half-empty nightclub.

I had a free prize gifted to me this past Sunday.

Seeking a dinner reservation for two, I phoned T.Cook's at the Royal Palms Resort in Phoenix.

An upscale restaurant in the heart of the Valley, I expected polite and personal attention. I received it. And more.

The phone rang only once before it was promptly answered.

"I hope you're having a pleasant afternoon this Sunday. My name is Bret* how can I assist you?"

I told the host that I was looking to make reservations ... for two ... for tonight.

"Just a moment."

A full minute-and-a-half later, Bret returned.

He sighed hesitantly into the phone.

"Reservations for two, right?" He muttered to himself. "Hmm ..."

"Just a moment more, please."

I held two, three, four moments more. I looked at my phone. Several minutes had gone by before finally, Bret returned.

He let slip an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Sir, I was able to secure a reservation just for you."

The free prize.

I thanked him for the reservation and silently applauded his wonderfully-executed marketing ploy.

Despite his restaurant being decorated by critics with more stars than a clear country sky, a Sunday night dinner in mid-July in the hottest city in the Union, would not have reached (or breached) the room's maximum allowable occupancy.

With one hand on the velvet rope, this gatekeepr kept me waiting and all the while intensified the brand's mystique.

__________________________________________

*name changed for privacy's sake.

Confusing Advertisements

Stated succinctly: Any advertising campaign's top priority is raising and reaffirming brand awareness.

But ... what happens when an advertisement goes awry?

Such is the recent (public) case of the confusing Mike & Ike Candy billboards that have sprouted around cities nationwide.

The billboard puts on display the fantastical (more fantasy, less fantastic) feud between the candy's two namesakes. In the case of this billboard, Mike has angrily--or jealously?--crossed out Ike's name from the candy's packaging.

The billboard, pictured:

As they speed by in moving cars, buses and trains, motorists are supposed to assume that the graffiti was done intentionally by an imaginary character who vied for little public attention in recent years.

Mike & Ike's parent company, Just Born, has raised the advertising stakes this year: according to the Kantar Media unit of WPP, Just Born "just" got by in 2011, shelling out a measly $125,000 in advertising expenses last year.

And according to the New York Times, "The campaign is set top include television spots and an animated billboard in Times Square, bringing the campaing's total estimated cost tp $15 million ... The campaign will last for a year, when the answer to whether Mike and Ike reconcile will be revealed."

This all equates to a feeble, misfired attempt at suspense creation.

The campaign is primarily  aimed at consumners aged 13 to 17 and was conjured up by Just Born's soon-to-be former advertising agency, the Elevator Group.

This learning lesson in message clarity will cost this candy company an estimated $15 million ... That kind of money spent on a message that's cloudy and convoluted?

Trips to the dentist are less painful.

Edit Your Life

I slipped the first of three CDs into my dash and waited for enlightenment to strike.

I hadn't ever listened to a book on tape before, but my expectations were high.

The silence of my car's cabin was broken by a monotonic introduction. I was suddenly thrust into the tight confines of an airplane seat cleared for takeoff on a lengthy international flight. The narrator's voice channeled the enthusiasm of a flight attendant lifelessly reciting an airplane's safety instructions.

Exercise some patience, I urged myself. 

His delivery labored on. Belabored by his "motivational" storytelling, I turned off the CD. Now that's self-help.

I had fully expected Leo Babauta, blogger, former newspaper editor and author of this book, to have read from his own work, but I guess that would be asking for too much. Everything is outsourced nowadays.

I stuck to it, started the CD once more and got used to the man's voice when I finally reached a point where I lent it my full attention. 

"Edit your life," the reader read, "eliminate all but the essentials."

I thought of my desk at work and my desk at home.

I thought of my rising pile of paperwork and the setting sun.

Then, I thought of the scene in Up in the Air (2009) in which George Clooney rhetorically asked, "How much does your life weigh?"

Sitting in my seat with the seatbelt fastened and folding tray in its upright position, I renewed my vow to adopt a Less is More mantra; something hard to do in an increasingly More is More environment.

I've since shortened my To Do lists, tended to the matters that matter most, and with renewed vigor focused on quality, not quantity.

The Court of Public Opinion

The Supreme Court has kept extremely busy this week serving as black-robed-counsel on decisions ranging from immigration to healthcare. Lost in the shuffle, however, was an important decision rendered mid-day Friday, June 29, regarding media ownership.

As reported locally by KNAU, the highest court in the land decided to "place limits on ownership of broadcast outlets and newspapers in local markets."

Hit squarely in the mouth were ownership groups across the country whose businesses would undoubtedly be affected by the decision.

Dizzying as the blow delivered by the court's gavel was, the Gannett Corporation, who own (locally) NBC 12 and The Arizona Republic, was dubiously unavailable for comment immediately thereafter.

Instead, the sound of crickets played loudly.

While other media outlets scrambled for a response and any semblance of a sound bite by the affected parties, the Gannett Corporation played dead. The phone rang ... and media relations experts at Gannett coyly shrugged their shoulders.

Surely, it would extend past a clever exercise in wordplay to assume that Gannett's in-house public relations team was caught snoozing in the outhouse.

I yield my gavel now as blog author in handing down two rulings of my own.

First, to the Supreme Court:

I hereby suspended your powers for a term spanning no less than thirty (30) days for misappropraition of power and absence of good judgement. The rise of the internet has diluted the power of television and newspaper outlets' monopolies and thus given the public at large a choice. Please disrobe before leaving the courtroom.

Secondly, to the public relations team at Gannet Corp.:

You have been caught off guard, invited the proverbial cat to "get your tongue", and passed on a moment in the national spotlight. You allowed crickets to play, while reactions were sought. For this you shall be forced to watch contestants swallowing live crickets on Fear Factor reruns (on any NBC affliate of your choice, of course). Finally, "no comment" translates to "no paycheck"; you shall not get paid for a single day of work starting from the date the case first went to trial.

The court of public opinion is adjourned.