A long line at the American Airlines counter. Finally, a particularly well-dressed man gets to the front, loudly announcing that he wants to check in for first class.
The harried agent does her best, but there’s no room. He starts getting louder and more angry. He’s blathering about his power and authority.
She tries to placate him, but to no avail.
Finally, he yells, "Do you know who I am?"
Without missing a beat, the gate agent grabs the microphone. "Attention in the gate area. We have a medical emergency. The man at gate 11 has just suffered a serious bout of amnesia. If anyone recognizes him, can they please come forward and help him?"
All as a way of telling you that an epidemic of amnesia is sweeping our land. Armed with a blog and a following (I have 2,000 [or 2 million] daily readers… wait till they hear about this!), or with a frequent purchaser card or even just a credit card, millions of customers are now your most powerful customers. And as powerful customers, they want you to know, to recognize and to reward them for their power. If you don’t know ‘who they are’, they’re going to hit the road. Angrily.
Watch out for amnesia. It’s spreading fast.
Smart marketers are already treating each customer as even more important than she thinks she is (Or aggressively treating all customers the same… well).
April 27, 2006
What happens when your inbox is empty?
What happens when all the agenda items and all the incoming emails are cleared?
Time to go home.
A job well done. Congratulations, you earned your paycheck.
This is the factory mindset that has been drilled into us since kindergarten. You get assignments, you do your best, and you finish them.
It is at this point that we draw the line between workers and entrepreneurs, between people who work in marketing and marketers.
The challenge is NOT to empty your inbox. The challenge is not to get your boss to tell you what to do.
The challenge is to ask a two part question:
What next? What now?
Asking is the hard part.
April 26, 2006
Is it because it gets in the way of intuition?
I spend a lot of time railing against organizations and teams that fall in love with process at the expense of innovation. This is not a post about that.
It’s about the opposite.
Our culture embraces the intuitive craftsman. We don’t talk about Harlequin Romances or artists who paint by number. Heroism is about writing a novel or making a sale based on what’s deep inside of you… not by following a prescribed pattern.
The plant manager who is proud of his seat-of-the-pants inventory management system, the bizdev guy who cherishes his network, the physician who relies on her diagnostic skills–these are all examples of intuitive craftspeople. Intuition, the sum total of our skill and our training, is the mark of someone to be reckoned with.
Process, on the other hand, appears to be for Dummies.
So we bristle when we’re asked for our weekly goals sheets, or when the boss wants us to use a database or when the insurance company requires docs to follow data-driven guidelines. We pass up the tenth novel by a successful author… because the process has become too transparent.
And yet, in many cases, process is underrated.
Process is your ace in the hole when your intuition stops working.
Process is the system that doubles a plant’s efficiency when you’ve done everything you can think of.
Take your web page (please). The intuitive marketer does her very best, and then conversion and traffic levels are established. That’s all.
Replace that with a process that measures and tests and improves and repeats and changes elements hourly. Replace it with a process that’s all about split testing and funnels and what works. Will a process like that invent MySpace or Flickr? Of course not. But it might very well turn your metrics from negative to positive. It might reinvent all the dynamics of your business.
What happens when a star salesperson starts tracking her calls, her time spent, her rolodex and her results? Her day isn’t intuitive any longer… just the act of selling is. The result: dramatic improvements. Measuring, and measuring in public, is a piece of process that can’t help but organize and leverage your intuition.
If process makes you nervous, it’s probably because it threatens your reliance on intuition. Get over it. The best processes leverage your intuition and give it room to thrive.
April 25, 2006
Bob explains a subtle, patient, effective marketing campaign: AlphaMale: How KitKat became Number 1.
Goal: make it viral. Springwise: Group dating.
April 24, 2006
Actually, all your lawyers are in your marketing department.
Most lawyers view their job as a defensive one. They use phrases like, "keeping you out of trouble."
Unfortunately, when they interact with the public or with a partner or even a landlord, they are marketing your organization, whether they want to or not.
Consider the case of a drugstore chain that accidentally sent out a second rebate check (for $4) to hundreds or thousands of customers. The lawyer drafted a note telling customers (remember, these are the valuable ones, the ones that take action) to discard the second check. Included this line:
We are informing you of this error so you do not incur returned check fees
from your bank, since the check is not valid. Please destroy the duplicate
check.
So, in other words, if you cash the second check by mistake, you’re going to have to pay your bank a $25 bounced check fee on a $4 check because of an error the drugstore made.
One of my favorite lawyers has come to understand that she can do better for her company, negotiate better deals and build better, more profitable customers by acting like a marketer first, a lawyer second.
Scratch that.
Acting like a marketer first is being a good lawyer.
Robert Bruce just figured out how to advertise his poetry. The First Official Advertisement On This Site.
It works, of course, because it’s obviously authentic. Because it piques your curiousity. Because he’s a real person. Because it hasn’t been done this way before, or at least not that you’ve seen.
And then, when everyone does it, it won’t work any more.
I got busted at the Stop and Shop this morning.
It turns out that there are now even more than 19 flavors of Oreos. So I needed a photo of the new flavor for my presentation. The manager saw the flash and ran over. He made it clear that I needed permission from corporate headquarters to take pictures, and followed me around the store to make sure I didn’t take any more illicit photos.
Compare this to the easiest way in the world to attract a crowd at a trade show–hire some folks to film your booth, preferably with bright lights, Bauer battery packs and a big-ass camera. Sure enough, people will show up, like moths to a candle.
The irony of the Stop & Shop approach is that the people who you don’t want taking pictures–snoopy journalists or competitors–can easily conceal their cameras and you’ll never know. But the raving fans, the bloggers, the folks twisted enough to want to take and flickrize their supermarket experiences are your friends.
Of course, Ahold (owner of S&S) has every right to discourage shoppers from photography. So does Disney. But Disney learned a long time ago that flipping the funnel and letting tourists become your salesforce is a great idea. In an experience economy, where a bear workshop or furniture superstore is a form of tourism, photography is part of the deal. (Thanks to Rob Clark for the illustration).
You should go mattress shopping.
I did, today.
I admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been mattress shopping before. What an astonishing experience. If you don’t believe the "storytelling" riffs in Liars, this will convert you. It’s an entire room filled with virtually identical objects, varying in price by as much as 2,000%. And while you can lie down on any of them, lying down on a mattress is totally different from sleeping on one over a decade.
All you can buy is the story.
However, this isn’t a post about the story. It’s a post about the phone on the Sleepy’s salesman’s desk. Our sales guy, who was outstanding by the way, explained that all 400 stores in the chain are owned by one guy, and that the instructions are clear: if there’s anything in the store, anything important, that’s broken and not fixed within 72 hours (including policies, prices, inventory, whatever), his job is to pick up the phone and dial 300.
And Harry Acker, the owner, the billionaire, answers. "This is Harry." And you tell him and he fixes it.
I love that.
Even better… every once in a while, the phone rings. It’s Harry. "What’s up?" he asks. And if you tell him good news, he hangs up on you.
I think I’m glad I don’t have Harry’s job. But I was (amazingly, surprisingly, shockingly) glad I shopped there today.
April 22, 2006
Zahor sends us to: Tribewanted: Adventure Island – Chief’s Blog.
It may be a gimmick, but it is very definitely a story.
