…is the technology. Sometimes, it’s simply not enough.

When was the last time you saved a Word document as HTML?

Never, right? Same here. And yet it’s more than 11 years since Microsoft announced that the document format of the future was HTML.

I should know. I announced it.

I can see myself now: standing in front of an audience of 1,500, leading them into a brave new world, where people didn’t save on their hard disk. Or on the network - or, at least, not directly. Using Microsoft Office 97, they saved on the intranet. Using HTML of course.

I peered out into the semi-darkness. 3,000 sceptical eyes peered back at me.

And here’s the thing: they were right, I was wrong.

Way cool

The trouble with most technology is the technology.

It’s cool, it’s different and it makes for great demos. People gasp in amazement at product launches. They feel a frisson of excitement and anticipation.

Then they go home or back to their office, and try it out themselves. And the result? Usually, it’s disappointment.

Remember WAP? And the hoop-la over 3G?

This week, it’s the Sony Reader, an electronic book that’s hit the UK market. With a 200MB capacity, it can store over 160 books. It has a (faux) leather cover, and uses display technology called e-ink.  It uses power only when the reader turns the (virtual) page. So in theory, the battery should last 1,680 pages between charges.

There’s just one little problem.

Ne’er the twain

You’re either a reader or an gizmo junkie. Just step onto a commuter train - if you can - in the morning, and you’ll see that people fall into one of the two categories.

Reading isn’t just following the words with your eyes. It’s much more than that. It’s the opening of the book, the turning of the pages, the turning back. It’s the smell of the book, the size and shape, the satisfying heft and bulk.

It’s a physical sensation that nothing can replace.

Technology fails when it forgets how end-users really live, work and relax. And if you’re writing about, marketing or selling technology, you should always remember the real people out there.

The ones who still don’t save in HTML.

Find out more:

• Carry 160 books in your pocket with the Sony Reader.
• Reading on the web is not really reading, from this week’s issue of The Spectator.
• Could Sony’s electronic book reader kill off the paperback? from The Daily Telegraph. Includes a short video clip with some invaluable advice (‘just don’t read it in the bath’).

Most things can wait. In fact, most things should wait.

How many times have you checked your email today? Which takes priority - the thing that was top of your to-do list at 9am, or the email that just dropped into your In Box?  

If you’re talking on your landline and your mobile phone rings, what do you do? And if, in the midst of all this, a Skype contact comes online and wants to chat, how do you handle your juggling act?

Not so long ago, things were so different.

Phones rang unanswered. Inter-office manila envelopes worked their way round the building, from department to department. Memos were typed in duplicate, triplicate and quadruplicate.

Letters were posted, and replies carefully composed. ‘By return’ meant a two-day turnaround, not a two-minute one.

The world was a slower place - and that gave us time to think.

Welcome to the machine

When did you first discover email?

For me, it was 1986. I sat in a friend’s office and she showed me just how technically advanced the company was. On their mainframe, they could send messages within a matter of seconds, as vital information winged its way around the organisation.

“Look at this,” she said, her voice brimming over with enthusiasm. She jabbed at function keys (no mice in those days) and clicked her cursor keys.

And there it was: cod and chips, roast lamb and nut cutlet - today’s staff-canteen menu, instantly transmitted by my friend’s friend, whose office was around the corner from those unmissable main courses.

Food for thought indeed.

Business at the speed of light

Since then, things have moved on a little. Slowly but surely, we’ve become bombarded by inputs. Emails, text messages, RSS feeds. Discussion groups, podcasts and instant messaging.

The digital deluge never stops.

Until we stop it.

Right now, my email program is closed. I’ll open it up when I finish this blog post. And if the phone rings, I’ll let it go to voice mail.

I’m no saint - it’s just that I’ve learned the hard way that if I don’t focus, I don’t get the job done. 

One thing at a time.

If only others did the same. Ever spoken to somebody who takes a mobile phone call while they’re in the toilet? I have - believe me, you don’t want to go there.  

Most calls can wait. Most emails can wait. In fact, most things should wait - you’ll have more time to reflect, decide and evaluate. And you’ll come up with better solutions, easier answers and clearer analyses.

Take your time. Think about it. Then, think a bit more.

You’ll be glad you did.

OK. You can check your email again.

The little things that make a big difference

This week, I had the brake cables on my bicycle tightened. They now work better than they’ve ever done.The thing is, that’s not why I went to the bike shop.

Let me explain.

Two days earlier, my front mudguard fell off. Again. It’s one of those indestructible plastic ones, that can withstand heat, light, water and just about anything you can throw at it. It’s been stress-tested in wind tunnels and bent to destruction in the mudguard labs.

Unfortunately, it’s attached to the bike by the flimsiest of brackets, which breaks if you look at it. And I did - twice.

So I went to the bike shop. Now Cambridge has no shortage of bike shops - it’s the Beijing of England, with 50% of the workforce cycling to work.

It was closed. A small, grubby, handwritten sign said it would open again in two days.

So I waited.

I could have gone to any number of other shops, but I didn’t. Why? Because the guy who runs it is good - friendly, attentive, helpful and always trying to add value.

Two days later, I left the bike with him so he could fit new mudguards. They come in pairs, so the back one had to be replaced too.

“They finally woke up,” he said about the mudguard people. “People got sick of them breaking, so they’ve strengthened the bracket. Just look.”

And I did - at an industrial-strength, don’t-mess-with-me silver bracket that looked like it was the business.

I didn’t even ask the price of the mudguards. I didn’t need to - that’s how much I trust this chap. And when I picked up my bike, that trust was once again reinforced, with a little something extra.

This time, it was the brake cables. Last time, the chain.

And that’s why I keep going back.

How can I help you?

Good service is common sense. So why is it so rare? Keeping clients happy is a sure way of keeping them as clients.

I can think of two coffee shops I avoid if particular people are on duty there. What should be a relaxing experience turns into a stressful one. By the time my latte is handed to me, I’m just about ready to leave.

By contrast, I can think of another - more expensive - coffee shop where I break into a broad smile if I see my favourite barista grinding, pouring and skimming. I can’t help myself. She exudes enthusiasm and charm.

She knows my regular, and accidentally-on-purpose stamps my loyalty card twice when I buy a coffee.

As you can imagine, I’m the most loyal of customers.

The wheels of industry

Meanwhile, back on the open road, with my DEFCON 1 mudguards, I was struck by one business name that worked. And one that…well, sort of did.

The first I saw on a narrowboat on the River Cam. What a great idea. A doctor that does house calls. You’ve got to love it.

The second was along the same lines. But when I saw it, I just scratched my head. So where do the patients go, I wondered?

And then I got it. But it was too late.

Names either work immediately, or they don’t work at all.

Five things you can do right now

Reading the papers, you could be forgiven for thinking it’s the end of the world as we know it. Soaring oil prices, rising food costs, tighter credit, an ailing housing market. Each day brings a fresh wave of bad news.

Time to tighten our belts. In an economic downturn, it makes sense to cut your costs.

But just make sure you’re cutting the right ones.

Slash your marketing and you slash sales. And if sales take a hit, then you have to cut your marketing a little more. Before you know it, you’re in an unstoppable downward spiral.

So what can you cut? Well how about admin costs, travel expenses or entertainment? Renegotiate your rent, find a cheaper deal on your phones.

But don’t cut your marketing. Not until you’ve cut everything else first.

Because marketing is the only thing that will pull you out of the dive.

Think smart, think big

Consider what’s happened in the airline industry. All carriers are faced with massive fuel bills. And that, together with the credit crunch, has caused their revenues to plummet.

But they’ve responded very differently.

British Airways says it’s going to put up fares by 4%. It has to, it says. It’s got no choice.

Really?

Well just look at what Ryanair is doing. Shortly after announcing a £70m loss for the first quarter of 2008 (compared with a £123m profit in the same quarter a year ago), Ryanair said that it was going to take some radical action.

It’s going to reduce fares by 5%. And then it immediately put 1 million tickets up for sale on its site at next to nothing.

It can afford to, because during the good times, it’s amassed a war chest of €2.2bn. So in the fight with bigger carriers, it’s in an unassailable position.

And it’s sending out a positive message to its customers.

Same again, sir?

Starbucks is doing the same. Realising that a grande hazelnut frappuccino might not be top of your list of absolute necessities in these harsh economic times, it’s introduced a free filter-coffee refill for the first time in the UK.

The cost to them is minimal. But the goodwill it gains them is beyond measure.

(If you read my previous entry on ‘freshly brewed’ coffee, you’ll know this is a mixed blessing as far as I’m concerned.)

Five things you can do right now

The best solutions are always simple - and often, they’re so simple we don’t even think of them.

1. Get more business from existing customers. You know who they are. They’re qualified, they’ve bought before, and they’re just waiting to hear from you.
2. Stay in touch.  When times are bad, step up your customer communication. Tell them you’re around, and that you’re here to help.
3. Add value.  Give away for free things with a low cost but a high perceived value.
4. Run the numbers. Analyse your sales data and see which products bring in most revenue - then focus most of your marketing on them. Do the same with your customers.
5. Think like a customer. Don’t forget - they’re feeling the pinch too. So what would make the difference? What could you offer them right now that would make them buy?

Think smart in a downturn, and you’ll be better placed than anybody else to reap the rewards when the upturn comes.

And it always does.

I’ve seen the future - and it’s big. Very big.

I remember it well.

It was 1994, and I was trying to explain the enormous potential of the internet to a sceptical friend.

I could barely contain my enthusiasm.

“It’s big, it’s global and it brings everything together,” I burbled. “Just imagine - shopping online, finding information, making bookings. Think what it’ll be like when everybody’s there. All the things you’ll be able to do.”

My friend stared at me blankly. He looked back to my PC screen, and frowned. Then he delivered his verdict.

“Personally,” he said, blinking uncomprehendingly at a web page, “I can’t see any practical application for it.”

I often remind him of it. Wouldn’t you?

That was then. This is now.

5,000 days. That’s as long as the web’s been around as we know it. According to Kevin Kelly, that is. He’s publisher of the Whole Earth Review and executive editor at WIRED magazine.

And I’ve just been watching his talk to last year’s TED convention about where the web’s been in the last 5,000 days and where it’s going in the next 5,000.

It’s fascinating.

He does look a little like an Amish grandpa - but the similarity ends there. He starts with what we thought the internet was going to be (‘TV, but better’ - we were wrong) and ends up with convergence into what he ominously calls The One.

He reckons that by 2040 the total processing power of the web will exceed that of humanity. And long before then, we’ll become ‘co-dependent’ with technology.

Visionary stuff indeed. Enjoy.

Here’s the link: Kevin Kelly: the web’s next 5,000 days.

(I’ve just sent the link to my friend. It’ll be 1994 all over again.)

…from Starbucks, Eurostar, Tesco and play.com

Four things happened to me this week.

OK, more than four things, but since you haven’t got all day, I’ll give you the short version.

Extra strong - with wings

First, I hung out at Starbucks, which is better than any serviced office I’ve ever seen.  You can stretch one cup out all afternoon, as you huddle over your laptop.

But this time, I decided to leave my comfort zone. No, not my favourite armchair by the window. But my coffee.

You see, I normally opt for a grande, skinny, decaf, sugar-free hazelnut, extra-hot latte - enough to give any barista RSI as they scramble to tick all the boxes.

But this time, I decided to change. A regular coffee seemed an appropriate departure, so I consulted the board. Americano, I thought. That’ll do the trick.

But wait…what about Freshly Brewed Coffee? It was much cheaper, and that was enough to tip the balance.

So that’s what I ordered. And instantly regretted it.

Americano is basically a diluted espresso, made on the spot from achingly fresh coffee beans. Whereas Freshly Brewed Coffee is, well, not really fresh.

The barista pivoted round, flipped the tap on a big silver urn, and filled the cup with tired old dregs.

So that would be Freshly Stewed Coffee.

Lesson 1: don’t stretch language beyond its limits.

Next stop Paris

From there, where else could the week go? Upwards was the only way, and yesterday, Eurostar put a smile on my face.

I live in Cambridge, and every week, like it or not, the local freesheet newspaper lands on my mat. Usually, it goes straight in to the recycle bin.

But not this time.

Paris - An all hours guide, the cover (which wasn’t really the cover, but a advert wrap) said. Pull out. Fold up. Pocket it.

The inside is crammed full of useful listings - places to eat, relax, and boogie on down. The back has a handy map. There are even Cambridge-Paris train times (via King’s Cross/St Pancras).

And coolest of all, a handy origami-style diagram showing you how to fold it all into a pocket map.

Brilliant. Just brilliant. Why?

It’s targeted, it’s personal and it’s useful. Even if I don’t want to go to Paris tomorrow, I’ll keep it for when I do.

And so Eurostar has achieved the Holy Grail - an advert I’ll never throw away.

Lesson 2: think smart, think targeted, think like a reader.

Bag for life (not)

Tesco delivered my internet shopping this week, all  neatly packed in carrier bags. Re-use this carrier bag and collect Green Clubcard Points, each bag cried out at me.

If only I could.

At least half of the bags had the handles knotted - double-knotted. And they’d been lifted into the crate at the store, then out of the crate on to my doorstep, then again to my kitchen.

Each time the knot got a little tighter. In the end, the only way I could open them was with scissors.

You see the green problem.

When I pointed it out to Tesco customer service, they said they’d put a note on my account.

But what about all the other shopping packed at that store? In fact, at every store countrywide? How many bags were being wasted, I wondered.  Surely they could feed it back to somebody who could change things?

Silence. Then they said they’d put a note on my account.

So I dropped it. Some battles you can’t win.

Lesson 3: make sure everybody in your company shares your values.

Game over

This week I ordered a DVD - La Vie en Rose (it’s known as La Môme in France). 

It’s the fourth French film I’ve ordered in as many weeks, so play.com have a pretty good idea of my tastes. Perfect for marketing purposes.

Or so you’d think.

On the invoice that came with the DVD, they’d conveniently printed a list of other bestselling and upcoming titles. 

Clever. But also not so clever.

For their titles included Knocked Up: Extended and Unprotected Special Edition, along with Hellboy and Superbad. Oh, and Death Note: Limited Edition.

It would have been a simple bit of database programming to pull out the upcoming French titles.

Lesson 4:  try selling what your customers are buying. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

The ultimate test of customer service is how you deal with problems

My holiday in the sunny Dordogne is by now a distant memory.

Well, almost.

You see when I got back from France, I had a surprise. A nasty one. The car-hire charges came in at double what I was expecting.

It’s not the first time it’s happened.

Last year, I went to Rome with a friend. We decided not to pay the extortionate fee for a second driver, so it was just me at the wheel. But when I got back, I found I’d been charged for an extra driver.

I phoned them to find out why. OK, they said, let’s just pull up the record, and…oh yes, the second driver was called Kevin Walsh.

And the first driver, I mused? Erm, let’s see. That would be…Kevin Walsh.

I got a refund.

Circles within circles

This time around, there was no extra driver. To complicate matters, I hadn’t booked direct with the car-hire company, but with a website that promised to scour the web to find the best deals.

So my complaint went to them. They’d quoted a price that hadn’t been honoured.

Right, they said. You see we quote exclusive of VAT, and they charged inclusive. Even then, the figures didn’t tally, so they gave me a partial refund.

And the rest? That was for fuel, they said.

But I’d been told specifically to bring the car back as empty as possible, and I’d be charged €20 for what had been in the tank originally. I’d agreed to the €20. But what about the extra charge on top of that - another €110?

Fuel, they said again, as if I hadn’t heard the first time.

You see the problem.

And so, from the website (based in Ireland) to the rental company customer-service centre (based in the UK) to the local office (a franchise, based in France) my complaint has been batted back and forth.

I’m still waiting, three weeks on.

Mirror, signal, manoeuvre

Customer-service promises are easy to make. But the real test is what happens is when things go wrong.

When I was at Microsoft, I had one boss who had a novel way of dealing with people who’d been caught in the endless loop of customer complaints.

First, he’d assume they were telling the truth (it’s amazing how many people think all customers lie). Then, he’d call them personally and turn on the charm. He’d apologise, and listen. And then listen a bit more.

Finally, he’d ask them for their full postal address. Why? For the free software product he was sending them to make amends.

It worked every time.

Why doing nothing is easier than doing something

Are you throwing money away? I am. For months now, I’ve known that I could get cheaper broadband.

In these trying economic times, every penny counts - and we’re talking about pounds here. I know I could do it, and that I should do it. So why don’t I just go ahead and do it?

Simple. I’ve decided to opt instead for your biggest competitor - and mine.

Consumer inertia.

For given a choice (or two choices, or a bewildering, never-ending, ever-widening array of choices) we often just do the easiest thing.

Which is nothing.

Dollars and sense

A while back, I did some work for a client whose entire business is built around saving companies money by finding them better deals on gas, electricity, phone and other utility costs.

He charges a percentage of their savings. And he’s thriving, with an ever-growing army of staff.

But why, I asked him one day, don’t these companies simply do it themselves?  After all, they’re smart, they’re successful and they know they have a choice of suppliers. So why use him?

“Because they’re like you and me,” he said. “They don’t like change, and they don’t like making decisions. So they do nothing - until we make them do something.”

Money for nothing

UK price comparison site moneysupermarket.com recently carried out an experiment to see just how strong the pull of consumer inertia was.

In London and Manchester, they had somebody walk around wearing a sandwich board offering people £5. No strings, no catches. All you had to do was ask.

In total, they encountered 1,800 people. And how many do you think took up the offer?

28.

That’s less than 2%. So a whopping 98% of people passed up the chance for a free fiver. I’m sure I’d have been one of them. Wouldn’t you?

You are now leaving the comfort zone

Consumer inertia will never go away, but we can do something to change the odds in our favour:

• Always have a call to action. It’s obvious, but we so often forget it. Call now. Fill in the form. Don’t delay. Tell people what to do - you’ll be surprised what happens.
• Close the sale: making a sale is not like speed dating. If the person says no, it’s nothing personal. But if you don’t ask, you’ll never know. So ask.
• Say it often enough. As Woody Allen said, 80% of success is just showing up. If you’re not there, you won’t get the business. So show up again and again. And again.

My email has just pinged with another message about a great broadband deal.

Decision time - or maybe not.

I’ll have to think about it.

Find it, position it, sell it

Last year, somebody sent me flowers for my birthday. It was a lovely gesture, but it’s not the flowers that stick in my mind. Instead, it was the way they were delivered.

Not by a surly, shaven-headed driver in a white van. But by a fresh-faced young guy with a broad smile and an unusual mode of transport. For Outspoken Delivery have no vans at all - just a fleet of strange-looking bicycles.

They claim they’re ‘100% emission free (excluding a little hot air)’.  And one of their testimonials says “Don’t use this business! They’re so good, I want them all for myself”.

How could you not like them?

They may not be the fastest. They may not be the cheapest. But they’re certainly the most different. And that’s why I’d use them.

Wouldn’t you?

Stand out or stand down

We all like to think we’re different. We tell our customers we’re different. We say it so much we actually end up believing it. But we’re often just deluding ourselves and the customer sees right through it.

Being different means really being different. Like woot.com. They sell stuff on the internet. So what?

Well here’s the difference: they sell just one item a day - until midnight, or until their stock runs out.

Today, it might be a vacuum cleaner, tomorrow a USB heated coffee mat. And when the clock strikes twelve, they move on. It doesn’t matter that they could have sold another 500.

When it’s over, it’s over. It’s a silly, irrational, counter-intuitive idea. And it’s wildly popular.

A sideways view

We can’t all turn our business model on its head, or turn to pedal power when it doesn’t make sense. Wacky is good, but only if it makes money.

But we can step back and take a different view.

Tom’s of Maine manufactures toothpaste. So how can they take on the giants of the toothpaste world?

Simple.

By telling a story, and making it personal. Check out their website, and you’ll see no corporate double-speak. Behind Tom’s of Maine is a charming, smiley couple called Tom and Kate.

Their toothpaste isn’t cheaper - in fact, it’s much more expensive. And it’s not everywhere - they sell mainly through health-food stores.

But it’s very, very successful.  And from toothpaste they’ve expanded to a whole range of healthcare products.

Different is memorable. Different sells.

Different is what makes the difference.

Find out more:

• Bring up those pearly whites a treat with Tom’s of Maine.
• When it’s gone, it’s gone at Woot.com.
• Pedal power wins the day at Outspoken Delivery.

Whatever happened to WYSIWYP?

I was on holiday last week. And it’s left a little bit of a bad taste in the mouth.

No, not the croissants, pains au chocolat, brioches and and foie gras. They all went down a treat.  

The aftertaste I can feel rising in my gorge is the bitter tang of misleading pricing.

That’s right. I flew Ryanair.

Now they’re not alone in this, but they do seem to have perfected the art of turning WYSIWYP (what you see is what you pay) on its head.

It’s a numbers game

I went to Bergerac, in south-west France. And my flights cost just one penny (= 2 US cents) each way. Sure, you’ve got to add the airport taxes, but that’s all, right?

Wrong.

It’s some time since I last flew Ryanair, so I was surprised to discover that I also had to pay a £4 check-in fee each way (previously free) and £8 per bag each way (previously £7 per booking). So that’s another £24.

All told, it was £44. A bargain. So why did I feel hard done by?

Simple. The price I saw wasn’t the price I paid. If they’d said Bergerac £44, I would have been happy to pay it.

And here’s the thing: they could have said £80 and I’d have shelled out without a second thought. 

It’s all about expectation.

A few weeks back I wrote about underselling yourself. You can double your price and most people won’t blink. They’ll just pay. But you must quote with confidence and stick to your figure.

Ryanair is unwittingly alienating customers by adding all the extras to push up the bottom line.

Bass motives

There was some small mercy. Ensconsed comfortably in my aisle seat, I fell into conversation with my neighbour, a well-spoken woman with a cello strapped into the seat next to her.

She was off to a week-long music workshop, she told me. And she was really pleased to have got such a good price on the tickets.

Tickets? For her and…oh yes, of course. The cello. So how much did she pay?

“Well,” she said brightly, “it was only £100.”

I gulped.

“For each of us,” she added, patting her cello case affectionately. “How much did you pay?”

I smiled sweetly, swallowed hard, and did what I had to do to make sure her holiday wasn’t spoiled.

I lied.

Find out more:

• Need a break? I’d recommend Bergerac (but be sure you book early).