Don’t avoid them like the plague – instead, ride the wave of recognition.

Do you want to be different? Yes, of course you do. We all crave novelty and want to stand out from the crowd.

Trouble is, your clients/readers/prospects often think in clichés. And so do you. In fact, we all do.

Arab Spring? Good. Democracy? Good. Microsoft? Bad. Apple? Good. Capitalism? Bad, rapacious, greedy. Steve Jobs? Latter-day saint.

A ship sinks? It’s a tragedy. Earthquake? Tragedy. Economic collapse? Tragedy, and if it happens in Athens, it’s a Greek tragedy.

All of these neatly-packaged ideas save us time. We don’t really analyse the facts, but instead fall back on preconceived ideas.

And stories.

It’s been said that there are only seven story lines (Overcoming the Monster, Rags to Riches, The Quest, Voyage and Return, Rebirth, Comedy, and Tragedy) on which all novels are based.

And yet we never tire of reading them.

There are endless variations on the themes, of course, which adds interest and keeps us turning the pages. But deep down we know that the boy will get the girl, the search will end in success, and the poor little orphan will discover a long-lost relative who makes them rich beyond their wildest dreams.

In other words, we broadly know what to expect. A big part of this expectation is set by the publishers, in their potted blurbs on the back of the book.

I get it, we say to ourselves, it’s one of those books.

And we buy it.

Tell me a (marketing) story

If you’ve come up with a great new idea, one that’s truly new, then you have a job on your hands. As it’s new, nobody knows what it is, how it works, or how it fits in with what they’ve currently got.

So you have a lot of explaining to do.

If, on the other hand, you draw a comparison (“it’s a bit like X, only…”) then people can latch on to something, and relate it to their experience.

And it’s not just ideas. It also applies to you, your company, your service and your approach to business.

As an example, which of these are you:

• The staid, solid reliable company that nobody ever got fired for hiring – boring but predictable?
• The funky, left-of-field, creative company that consistently comes up with crazy ideas that pay off?
• The long-term partner that’s aiming for a business relationship where both parties win?
• The cheap, value-for-money, no-nonsense company that sells on price above all else?
• The reassuringly expensive organisation that knows what it’s worth and will never budge on price?
• The professional company that uses formal language, knowing that it’s what your target audience expects?
• The informal, slangy, friendly company that wants to be everybody’s friend?
• The joker, who puts people at ease, but can grate a little in the long term?

It doesn’t matter if you don’t consciously set out to fit into one of these, or the many other stereotypes that people have in their heads. You will fall into a category whether you like it or not.

Making a virtue of a necessity

These prepackaged ideas may be lazy assumptions. They may be clichés. They may be inaccurate, or even wrong.

But they exist. And you can and should harness their power – because just like brands, they have immediate recognition.

So don’t leave it to chance, and let other people decide which profile you fit. Decide on a strategy, pick a corporate personality, and run with it.

And don’t send out mixed signals (the fun company that has a sense of humour failure, the serious company that tries to get on down with the kids, the creative company that turns all blue-suitish).

Be consistent, be predictable, and do your thing the same way every time. You’ll win new clients, who click with your approach, and keep current ones happy because they know what to expect.

Think all clichés are bad? Sounds a bit like clichéd thinking to me.

Because they can also be a powerful weapon in your marketing armoury. Use them wisely, and you’ll hit the target fast and accurately.

Find out more:

•  Magic number. Christopher Booker The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories at Amazon.co.uk.
• Great Expectations. Rory Sutherland (vice-chairman of Ogilvy Group UK) on narrative bias at The Spectator.

The direct connection between f(r)ame and fortune

The man who broke the news was chubby, red-faced and very short-sighted. And therein lay the first clue. Not so much wearing his heart on his sleeve as wearing his wares on the bridge of his nose.

An optician, then.

And he was breaking the news that sooner or later, we all need reading glasses.

And for me, that moment was sooner. In fact, right now.

He squiggled some numbers on a prescription, gave me a clammy handshake and sent me downstairs to the shop floor, where I was faced with a startling array of eyewear.

There was no shortage of shapes, sizes, designs and prices. Luckily, there was a smiling saleswoman to guide me through the optical maze.

But let’s change the focus for a second.

Brand wars

There’s a big debate about the value of brand building – and often, I’ve been caught in the middle.

When I talk to sales people, they tell me their marketing counterparts just don’t get it.

We need more sales materials, they say. Forget that touchy-feely, big-picture, blue-sky nonsense. We need datasheets and whitepapers, TCO studies and ROI calculators.

They’re not wrong. All of those things help oil the wheels of the sales process.

But wait a minute, the marketing folks say. If we didn’t create the image, build the brand and raise our profile, they wouldn’t have the sales slots. They’d be selling in a vacuum to people who weren’t as receptive.  We’re the ones who oil the wheels. They just turn the handle.

As you can imagine, the middle isn’t a very good place to be.

But actually, they’re both right.

Marketing tells the story, creates the promise and prepares the way. Sales deploys the ground troops and finishes the job.

And the truth of the matter is that the terrible twins need each other. Because on their own, they’re not nearly as effective.

And brand building is an essential part of this. Because it’s not just touchy-feely, big-picture, blue-sky stuff. It’s also directly related to price.

Which brings us nicely back to my specs.

View to a thrill

“So what were you thinking of?” said the saleswoman, with an oleaginous smile and an expansive wave towards the endless selection. “D&G? Armani? Guess?”

Guess again.

If, like me, you’re more Primark than Prada, then you’re not really swayed by brands. Yes, a terrible admission for a marketing professional, but then the counter-argument is that it gives me a cold, level-headed objectivity and much-needed detachment.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

In any case, I know, thanks to the geeky Alex Riley on BBC Three, that virtually all fashion glasses are made in one big factory in Italy. Same staff, same production line, same basic components. All that differs is the brand badge.

And the price, of course.

The ones in the opticians ranged from £25 for basic, unbranded, wire-framed glasses to an eye-watering £350 for some of the higher-end ones.

The difference? In a word, brand.

It’s the difference between selling one pair at £350, or fourteen pairs at £25 to make the same revenue.

So it’s not just touchy-feely, intangible, unmeasurable stuff. It’s also a big boost to your bottom line.

Build your brand and you build your sales. Tell the story, create the myth, drive the desire.

Then make the sale.

Making a spectacle

So which pair did I go for?

Do you really have to ask? After my voucher-discounted £5 eye test, I was hardly going to blow a fortune on reading glasses – and £350 is a lot of books.

“I’ll go for the no-name brand,” I said nonchalantly to the saleswoman.

She smiled a tight professional smile and rolled her eyes ever so slightly heavenwards.

At least I think she did. I couldn’t actually see that clearly.

Just as well, really.

Find out more:

• The secret’s out. Alex lifts the lid on technology, food and fashion in BBC Three’s Secrets of the Superbrands.