The Common Uncommonly

I’m over at Eli Rose today to explain why your kitchen smells like rotten fruit.  Drop on by!

Guest blogging at Eli Rose. Come visit!

I always relish Super Bowl Sunday.  Good food, good company, sometimes even a good football game.  And of course, the ads.  It’s the one day each year when the majority of the country actually pays attention to what marketers are trying to say to us.  We talk about the ads, the messages, the execution, the target markets…

Of course, for most people that’s a one-day affair, and starting Monday the commercial resumes its role as designated potty break.  But not for me. 

Part of my job is helping my clients get a handle on how their customers react, both emotionally and behaviorally, to marketing messages.  So understandably, I spend a lot of time paying attention to advertising campaigns, and also the bigger-picture marketing strategies behind those campaigns.  That means I notice a lot of really good stuff, including campaigns that don’t get the attention they deserve because they don’t happen in early February. 

I also see some real head-scratchers.  And if there’s a better teacher than success, it’s failure.  So here are five lessons from marketing efforts (packaging, print ads, web content, and more) that, at some point between strategy and execution, came up a yard short.

Lesson #1: Don’t train your customers to sit on their wallets.

Here’s what happens.  You want your customers to buy.  So you create a promotion to encourage purchases and put a deadline on it to get them moving.  But then you notice that once your promotion ends, sales slow down.  So you add another promotion.  Eventually you end up filling your customers’ inboxes with offers like this…

On February 1, Amazing Clubs sends me an offer:

On February 3, they send me a reminder that the offer expires in 2 days:

On February 5, the offer expires.  Am I worried?  Nope.   Because I’m pretty confident that if I open my email on February 6, I’ll get an even better offer.  And sure enough:

So all they’ve done is shown me that the best deal is just around the bend, and I should hold off as long as possible before buying.  Probably not what they intended.

Lesson #2: Don’t raise expectations you won’t meet.

I like Domino’s.  Good pizza, good variety, decent prices.  Their “we sucked and then we fixed it and now we’re good” campaign has been great.  But despite their best intentions, they may have overstepped with their artisan pizzas.  Not because of the pizzas (which are delicious) but because of the packaging. 

The box reads in part:

“…every single Domino’s Artisan Pizza we make comes signed by the person responsible for it. A signature that lets you know it’s time to expect more from your local Domino’s.”

So what does it tell me when the boxes I get are never signed? 

Lesson #3: Don’t solve problems that people don’t have.

I’ve seen this one for FedEx Office a few times in our local paper. 

It might make sense to some people, but I can’t imagine a scenario where I would drive from print shop to print shop to get bids.  Even with complex projects, I think there are other technologies (phone, fax, email, carrier pigeon) that would do the trick. 

But let’s say I do have to drive somewhere to get a bid.  Once I have that bid, why drive to FedEx Office just so they will match it (which is what the small print offer tells me)?  Why not just get the job done where I got the original bid?  The ad isn’t suggesting that FedEx Office is cheaper, just that they’ll honor the bid I already drove across town to get.

Lesson #4: Do what you say you do.

I was browsing Target’s outdoor section a few weeks ago when this caught my eye:

It’s a “Watertight Container.”  Says so right at the top.  Other copy points include:

• Great for outdoor activities
• Watertight case keeps your most important items safe and dry
• Not to be submerged

Just a tip: If one of your product “features” contradicts your product’s name… something’s wrong.

Lesson #5: Don’t make your problems their problems.

Our final lesson comes courtesy of Spirit Airlines.  Upset over the recent government ruling that airlines have to show the full price of a ticket up front (including all taxes and fees), Spirit decided to greet its web visitors with this window covering the usual home page:

Spirit tells its customers that fares are now “distorted,” informs us that we “shouldn’t stand for it,” and links to a website that Spirit so thoughtfully set up to communicate our outrage to Congress.  It’s a bit over the top, considering the only people truly outraged are the marketing folks at Spirit who have to show higher fares now in their ads. 

Or, if you’d rather buy a plane ticket than join a movement, you can click the tiny “No thanks”  text at the bottom of this corporate tantrum to get to the Spirit website and buy your ticket.  

So there you have it.  Five marketing mishaps, five good reminders for all of us, from companies that normally do a solid  job when it comes to marketing.  Remember, even the best of us make mistakes.  It’s not the mistake that matters, it’s whether you learn from it.

I like to take surveys. 

I don’t often get to, since researchers are usually screened out and I refuse to lie my way through a screener.  But when I get the chance, I’m a very willing participant.  So in the past year I’ve taken three or four phone surveys and about a dozen online surveys.

Why do I do it?  Because after 15 years in this field, I’ve developed a real appreciation for the art of crafting a good question.  And if someone has a better way to ask a question, or has a new approach I’m not familiar with, it would be a disservice to myself and my clients for me not to pay attention.

For the most part, though, we researchers are a pretty traditional bunch.  And when we do deviate, the results aren’t always pretty.  But even the ugly ones are instructive.  Take this example, from an online survey I was filling out after a recent travel experience (company name withheld, but this is an actual screenshot of the entire question): 

This is honestly one of the worst questions I’ve ever been asked in a survey.  It was so bad that I stared at it for over a minute, trying to figure out how I could answer it, or what it even meant.  There was no other context for the question, nothing that told me whether I was answering for a flight or a vacation package, for business travel or leisure, nothing like that.  I was stumped.

Even worse, the question required an answer, so I had to close the survey window without finishing.  Somehow I don’t think I was the only one who abandoned that survey.

I don’t put this question on display to make fun of anyone.  We all make mistakes.  Do this long enough, especially when researching non-conventional topics, and it’s bound to happen.*   

But every mistake should be viewed as a reminder of the importance of asking questions well.  No one said it better than Sir Francis Bacon, father of the scientific method, who noted that “A prudent question is one half of wisdom.” 

That’s a lesson that applies to everyone, whether you’re a brand manager trying to figure out a pricing strategy, or an advertiser testing a market position, or an HR rep conducting exit interviews, or a mom trying to find out how her teenager’s day was.  The better the question, the better the answer.  It’s that simple – even if it’s not always that easy. 

So if you care enough to ask the question… make sure you’re asking a good question.

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* I once posed a question I had designed in a one-on-one phone interview only to have the respondent snort and reply, “That’s a stupid question and I’m not going to answer it.” But that interview was part of a pilot test to catch problematic questions before a full launch.  Glad we did that!

 2011 was quite a year for us Logues.  Especially in healthcare. 

In January, our little boy got tubes put in and adenoids taken out.  Over Labor Day weekend, our son’s asthma attack led to a three-day hospital stay.  And in November, we welcomed a new daughter (and her deductible) into the family. 

So by the end of the year, I could claim two dubious accomplishments.  One, our family spent more money on healthcare in 2011 than ever before (in fact, our health insurance actually paid for itself this year despite ridiculously high premiums!).  And two, I spent more time in hospital rooms in 2011 than 2000-2010 combined. 

As a result, I look back on 2011 with a new perspective on healthcare.  Appreciation for the spirit of the caregivers who dedicate themselves to their patients.  Admiration for the skill of the providers who ensure positive outcomes.  Bewilderment over an absurdly opaque pricing model.  And frustration over a system that is missing the mark in terms of the patient experience.

Don’t get me wrong.  I feel very fortunate that the outcome of every healthcare interaction last year was a positive one.  Obviously everything else is a distant second to that.

But for the most part (rare illnesses aside) outcomes are an expectation.  Rightly or wrongly, we assume that all hospitals are more or less on the same level.  So we look elsewhere to differentiate the good hospitals from the bad hospitals, and the focus is often on the patient experience. 

In our specific cases, despite the positive outcomes and the modern facilities and the amazing level of care provided by doctors, nurses, and staff… our overall experiences were good but not exceptional.

What was missing?  Hospitality. 

As a frequent business traveler, I found nothing inconvenient or uncomfortable about spending a few nights away from home.  But during those nights, I couldn’t help but notice a few areas where my average hotel stay has a leg up on the hospital experience.

Now, I know a hospital is not a hotel — nor should it be.  That doesn’t mean hospitals can’t learn a thing or two about service delivery from the hospitality industry.  I’m not talking about chocolates on pillows… but there are some little things that can make a big difference in the patient experience.

So here goes.  My favorite hotel chain (Hampton Inn) versus Unnamed Local Hospital in a best of three competition: brand consistency, consideration, and knowledgeability. 

Round One: Brand Consistency

When I step into a Hampton Inn, the brand’s personality comes across in everything from the front desk staff to the art in the elevator to the writing on the disposable coffee cups.  I know who they are and I know the experience I’m going to have.  It’s friendly, it’s casual, it’s convenient, it’s not the slightest bit stuffy. 

 But at the hospital, it was a bit more confusing.

Is security a high priority?  You have to show an armband and get buzzed in to access the maternity ward.  Babies are outfitted with high-tech anklets that trigger a lockdown if the baby is taken to the elevators.  But my baby’s anklet kept falling off, and on the recovery floor I was never stopped by any nurses when my sleeves covered my wristband.

Is maintaining patient health a high priority?  You’d expect so, since it’s a hospital.  But the one piece of paper that offered concrete advice to the patient on how to protect her health while hospitalized… well, it was tacked to a bulletin board on the other side of the room, under four other pieces of paper with much less relevant information.  I only found it because I’d rather inspect a bulletin board than see an IV get inserted.

Is this a serious, professional place?  Seems to be.  Permanent signage is formal in language and design.  Temporary signs are typed and laminated.  Well, except for this gem in the public restrooms (who knew there was this much toilet-themed clip art?):

Score: Hampton 1, Hospital 0. 

Round Two: Consideration

Let’s say you’re a brand new mom.  You’re recovering from the physical strain of labor while caring for the needs of a newborn baby.  One of the two paper towel dispensers in the room is broken.  Do you choose:

1. The blinking error light of the dispenser bathing the entire room in a soft red glow reminiscent of a nuclear submarine on full alert, or
2. A maintenance man banging loudly at the dispenser during the only decent nap you’ve had in 24 hours?

If you were staying in a Hampton Inn, the correct answer would be neither of these, because the machine would have been repaired while the room was unoccupied (according to nurses it had been broken for 5 days), and because the patient/guest wouldn’t have been put in a room with that defect in the first place (only about half the rooms on the hall were occupied during our stay). 

Another part of being considerate is simply paying attention to people.  In hotel terms, it’s “every guest matters.”  It’s why the Hampton Inn staff wouldn’t dream of ignoring my wife’s request for extra towels.  In a maternity ward, obviously my wife is the patient.  But in the next 48 hours we’ll be at home and I’ll be helping with her recovery and the baby’s care.  So why ignore, belittle, or patronize me when I ask questions?  (Hey OB-GYNs, this goes double for you!).

Score: Hampton 2, Hospital 0. 

Round Three: Knowledgeability

There are really two subcategories here.  The first is “things you know.”  The second is “things you don’t really need to know as long as you can find them out quickly.”

Hospitals definitely have an edge in “things you know” when it comes to complexity.  I wouldn’t trust a Hampton Inn manager to deliver a baby.  But that edge only matters if everyone is on the same page.  If I ask any Hampton Inn employee when breakfast starts or when checkout ends, I’ll get the same answer.  That’s not always the case in the hospital:  

• Do we wake the baby to get a couple cc’s of food in her belly?  Of course, say the nurses, you need to make sure she is getting the nutrition she needs.  Nah, say the lactation consultants, she’ll wake up when she wants food, let her sleep.
• Do we supplement with formula if we’re not sure how much food the baby is getting?  No, say the nurses, she’ll be fine, she only needs a few drops at a time anyway.  Of course, says the pediatrician, you need to get that baby some food right now!

When it comes to “things you don’t really need to know as long as you can find them out quickly,” I’ll take Hampton Inn any day.  Need to know where to go eat?  The front desk can give you a printed page with recommendations and driving directions.  On the other hand, the hospital cafeteria hours were a mystery to every nurse and staff member I asked, and no one could direct me to any helpful information in the room. 

And if you think this is a trivial example, ask a woman who has been in labor for 8 hours if she’ll be hungry soon.

Score: Hampton 3, Hospital 0. 

So hospitality beats healthcare on the patient/guest experience.  Was it a rigged match?  You bet.  Hospitals are new at this whole hospitality thing, and while many are catching on, it can’t happen fast enough — for them or their patients.  Just as healthcare providers tend to defer to greater expertise within their own field, they would be wise to look for customer service lessons from companies that have been doing it right for decades. 

Either that, or Hampton Inn should start providing medical services.  Complimentary breakfast and triple HHonors points with every appendectomy?

I’m over at Eli Rose Social Media today comparing my clients (and yours) to Algerian natives.  It’ll make more sense when you read it.

Guest blogging at Eli Rose. Come visit!

In Good to Great, Jim Collins kicks off his book with the statement “Good is the enemy of great.”  In other words, once you hit ‘good enough’ there is less pressure to improve. 

I agree.  But I would argue the opposite is also true.  Great is the enemy of good.

Take Dwight Howard.

Dwight Howard: Too great to be good?

(Note to my non-basketball-fan readers: Stick with me.  This is going somewhere, I promise.)

Dwight Howard is the starting center for the Orlando Magic.  He’s phenomenal, the best center in the game right now.   If you’re talking about great current NBA players, he’s going to be part of the conversation.

Last week Dwight had himself a heckuva game in a win against Golden State:  45 points and 23 rebounds.  Those are big numbers.  Not only that, he broke a record that had stood for decades: he attempted 39 foul shots in the game (Wilt Chamberlain held the record since the 1960s with 34 attempts).

It’s an interesting record, because it’s both a compliment and an insult to be fouled that much.  The compliment: we can’t really stop you any other way, so we’re going to foul you.  The insult: we think you’re so bad at your foul shots that we’re willing to put you on the line 39 times because you won’t make us pay for it.

Guess what… they were right.  Dwight only made 21 of his 39 attempts.  An All-Star being paid millions of dollars to play basketball, standing 15 feet away from the hoop with no one guarding him, barely made half of his shots.

That’s the problem with greatness.  Because Dwight is so incredibly great, he doesn’t bother working on the things that would make him fundamentally good.  And it doesn’t really bother him.  In a post-game interview, Dwight said:

“I just tried to be aggressive and get to the line. I didn’t care if I missed 30. I was still going to go up there and shoot the next one with confidence.”

You could take the ‘all’s well that ends well’ approach and shrug off the misses, since the Magic ultimately won.  But if I’m Dwight’s teammate, with the Warriors breathing down our necks as the minutes tick down, I’m sure going to care that he is leaving easy points on the table. 

Because greatness doesn’t absolve you from the responsibility to be fundamentally good.  And that’s the lesson for all of us.

Being a superb CFO means you take the time to learn basic business strategy, not just ROI. 

Becoming a great surgeon means you work on your people skills, not just your cutting skills.

Designing a next-generation hybrid car means including comfortable seats, not just the latest technology.

So by all means, pursue greatness.  But don’t forget to be good while you’re at it.

Inventing is a tricky business. It’s hard to know what people really want without the benefit of hindsight. So it’s nice that history tends to be kind to great minds. Otherwise, we might recognize Edison as the “concrete house guy“, Kellogg as the “yogurt enema guy“, and B.F. Skinner as the “pigeon-guided missile guy“.

B.F. Skinner, brilliant pigeon-hater.

Instead, we think about light bulbs, corn flakes, and the Skinner box.

Okay, maybe you don’t think of the Skinner box right away. But if the name Skinner is familiar to you, it’s probably because of his work in psychology, specifically reinforcement and behavioralism.  And the Skinner box, or more officially the “operant conditioning chamber“, was where Skinner put many of his theories to the test, observing animals as they responded to a variety of positive and negative stimuli.  You know, rats pulling levers to get food while scientists make notes on their clipboards.   Typical lab stuff… but also a metaphor for something bigger.

Because the thing is, we’ve all spent time inside the Skinner box, scurrying around to meet the demands of others, responding to positive and negative conditioning.  And we’ve all spent time on the outside, pushing buttons to administer shocks or deliver food pellets.  We just don’t usually realize it at the time.

I was reminded of this recently while working on a project for a long-time agency client of ours.  This agency brought us to the table to develop a research approach for one of their client accounts.  It was a pretty unique situation requiring a very customized solution, and we put together a great plan.  We thought it was great.  Our agency partner thought it was great.  Their client thought it was great.  In fact, their client thought it was so great that they decided to get other companies to bid on the same approach.  You know, to make sure they could get this great solution as cheaply as possible.

Think this is a unique situation?  Nope.  Another one of our agency partners lives this scenario every day.  They have multiple accounts that they share with other ad agencies, so every time anyone brings a good idea to the table, everyone gets to bid on it.  Lowest bidder wins, naturally.

This kind of thing happens all the time — to agencies, to research firms, to manufacturers and healthcare providers and financial planners and everyone in between.  It’s nothing new. 

And anyway, what’s the big deal?  Can’t fault the client for wanting to save a few bucks, right?  We’ve all been there, and it’s tempting to squeeze our suppliers to protect our own budgets and margins. 

Here’s the problem.  Constantly wielding the low-bid hammer sends one of two messages:

1. I don’t trust you to give me an honest price, or
2. I don’t value your innovative thinking and I don’t intend to reward it. 

While the first message is insulting, the second message (especially when it’s true) is much more insidious.  If you stop rewarding your suppliers for bringing unique, original, innovative thinking to the table, then why should they bother?  Say goodbye to a great source of new ideas and fresh perspectives!

So what’s the solution?  Learn to think inside the box.  What kinds of reinforcement do your suppliers need from you? 

Want mediocre solutions as cheaply as possible?  Make everything a bidding war!  No need for positive reinforcement, electric shocks are fine.

Want truly engaged strategic partners?  Then be prepared to invest in your supplier relationships.  Fill up the treat dispenser!

Just remember: your suppliers are responding to your cues.  Are you sending the right message?

Guest blogging at Eli Rose. Come visit!

I’m over at Eli Rose today with my thoughts on what zombies, politicians, and reality TV have in common (besides an obvious lack of brains)… Drop on by!

It’s always fun to watch movies from the pre-9/11 era that have an airport scene.  Talk about simpler times… a couple airport cops and a metal detector set so low you could walk through wearing medieval armor.

Nowadays, we’ve got the good old TSA to deal with.  Personally, I think the agents get a bum rap a lot of the time.  I like to give them the benefit of the doubt and imagine they’re just as unhappy about enforcing stupid rules as we travelers are about following stupid rules.  Of course, there’s always a few bad apples in every bunch, and yesterday I found one.  She was finding it difficult to stifle her disgust for the cattle she was herding through the checkpoint, and this gem slipped out:

“People!  Stay with your items until YOU push them into the machine.  YOU have to push them in.  The belt doesn’t go automatically like at Kroger.  It’s called manual labor, folks!”

Wow.  Thanks for that. 

Pretty impressive sarcasm, especially coming from an agency that claims to provide “world-class customer service.”  Not that TSA really cares about customer service.  Sure, they have to pay lip service to the idea, but as long as they have a monopoly on airport security, they can do pretty much whatever they want. 

Still, as I reflected on that experience, it got me thinking about the rest of us (who do want our customers to like us):  is it ever okay to be insulting when you communicate?  When are sarcasm, snark, or even outright rudeness appropriate?

It seems obvious that a company shouldn’t insult its own customers.  Very few companies have the right mix of brand, communications, and customer base to pull it off… although the stars do align occasionally.  Take Woot, one of many deal-a-day sites on the Internet.  They’re equal opportunity snarkists, splitting their time between making fun of the products they’re selling, making fun of themselves for selling the products, and making fun of their customers for buying the products.  When you call your “grab bag” special a Bag of Crap, and your customers crash your servers trying to buy them whenever they’re offered, you know you’ve got a match made in marketing heaven.

Clearly, though, Woot is the exception.  For the typical brand, insulting customers (even in fun) is too risky. 

What surprises me, though, is how readily companies insult their prospects.  Like…

• Samsung’s new ad for its Galaxy S II phone.  It’s a direct bashing of iPhone users, who would seem to be a good target group for conversion. 
• Apple’s “I’m a Mac/I’m a PC” ads.  Sure, they were funny, but as a PC guy myself, having a smug hipster point out my nerdiness doesn’t make me want to buy a Mac.  And if Apple doesn’t sell Macs to PC users, where’s the growth coming from?
• Miller Lite’s “Man Up” campaign.  Because if you’re drinking any other light beer, you might as well be wearing a skirt.  Boy, I sure am thirsty after having my masculinity questioned!

In general, if you want someone to buy from you, it’s not a good idea to insult them.  So when does snark work?  When you’re not insulting them.  When you’re insulting yourself.  Like Ally Bank’s smackdown of banking.  Or Domino’s Pizza and their “we sucked, then we got better” campaign.

Want your customers to feel good about themselves?  Want them to feel good about you?  Then ditch the snark and stick to something genuine.

On the other hand, if you don’t really care about your customers… I know just the place for you!

I’m a big fan of Thanksgiving.  In my book, it’s the best of the holidays, the complete package.  There’s…

• Great food.
• A pretty much untouchable day off (two if you’re lucky).
• Quality family time.
• An important and timely reminder to be thankful for what you have.
• No expectations for gifts, giving or receiving.

Oh, and movie marathons.  Really good movie marathons.  Godfather.  Bond.  Star Wars.  Indiana Jones.  Even a Steven Seagal marathon for the plebes (what’s up, Spike TV, couldn’t afford van Damme?).

After all, if you have to be up at 1:30 am soothing a crying newborn, you might as well do it with a piece of pie in front of you and a great movie on TV, right?

So with a baby bottle in one hand, a remote in the other, and a bundle of joy on my lap, I went channel surfing.  Then my paternal instincts kicked in, and I decided to turn this cinematic cornucopia into a teaching opportunity.  As our new arrival went down her checklist of important tasks (eat! poop! cry! repeat!), I made sure she took a few lessons away from movie night.  Things we all need to be reminded of, both personally and professionally.  Like…

Don’t overcomplicate.

Jabba the Hutt should have kept it simple.  He could have just killed Han and Luke in his palace.  But no, he had to get all theatrical and try to feed them to a sarlacc in the Tatooine desert, a plan that gave our heroes a chance to escape.  And don’t get me started on all those Bond supervillians and their elaborate plots to kill 007.  Unnecessary complexity invites failure.

Acknowledge your weaknesses.

If Sonny Corleone had grasped the extent of his own hot-headed nature, he would have seen how easy he was to manipulate and might have sent someone else to deal with his wife-beating brother-in-law.  If Fredo had accepted his place as the dull knife in the drawer, he wouldn’t have tried to go behind Mikey’s back and wouldn’t have ended up at the bottom of a lake with a bullet in his head.  The more you ignore your own weaknesses, the more dangerous they are.  So be honest with yourself.

Don’t overlook potential.

Vito Corleone’s own mother thought he was a dimwit, but under that quiet exterior hid a cunning mind that built a criminal empire.  Luke Skywalker was a whiny runt before he learned how to harness his Jedi powers.  And if Short Round hadn’t burned Indy to wake him from the Black Sleep of Kali Ma, all of India might have fallen to Mola Ram and the Thuggees.  Judge a book by its cover and you might miss one heck of a story.

So there you have it.  Great holiday, great movies, great lessons.  That’s a lot to be thankful for.