I heard from my friend Dave last week. You know Dave, don’t you? Well you do if you live in the UK.
David Cameron – he of the silky voice, easy manner and impeccable credentials. The leader of the Conservative Party.
Dave to his friends. And I’m his friend – along with millions of others.
Let me explain.
Vote early and often
Here in the UK, it’s a week of elections. In England, local councillors are up for election to decide how they can spend more of my money on painting pointless lines and implementing ‘traffic calming’ measures.
And across the country – in fact, across the continent of Europe – it’s time to elect members of the European Parliament, that vast travelling circus that divides its time between Brussels and Strasbourg.
So needless to say, all the political parties are looking for support. But some are looking in the wrong places.
The Labour Party pushed a leaflet through my letter box. The Liberal Democrats did the same.
And so did the British National Party – in fact, their leaflet doubled up as a handy window poster (no thanks – I’d rather avoid the flying bricks and dark looks).
Tell me a (s)tory
But Dave took a different approach. He decided to do a mailshot.
Now the trouble with all mailshots is that they’re only as good as the database list you’ve got.
And database lists, as you probably know, have a very short shelf life. Which is why most mailshots have a less than stellar return.
But in this case, there’s a perfect list. One that’s up to date, accurate, and complete – and available free, gratis and for nothing.
It’s called the electoral register.
It’s a simple but brilliant idea:
It’s personalised. As you can see, I got my very own leaflet, addressed to me. It was the only piece of electioneering bumpf I kept (sad, I know).
It’s targeted. Everybody on the electoral register is eligible to vote, so it’s as targeted as it can be. Leaflet droppers hit everyone, registered or not.
It’s comprehensive. If there are three voters in the house, there are three leaflets – not one, unlike the droppers. So everybody gets one (and nobody wants to throw away somebody else’s mail).
And here’s the result:
See – that’s me.
Now here’s the thing. I know how they did it. I know why they did it. I know how easy it is to do. I know it’s a gimmick.
But it works. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling.
And that’s the power of personalisation.
So how are you getting personal with your customers? Are you selling lawn-mowers to people in apartment blocks? Are your prospects all called Sir or Madam? Or, worse still, Friend? And are you using the simple solutions that others don’t even see?
In short, are you leaflet dropping or doing a Dave?
They might just help you beat the recession. Then again…
Here’s a little quiz for you.
They make 80% of discretionary purchases. They buy most new cars, and 55% of consumer electronics. They’re more loyal to brands, readily use word of mouth to spread the good news, and are not being laid off in such great numbers in the ever-deepening recession.
So who are they?
No, not Russian billionaires. Or football stars. Or UK politicians (recently caught with their snouts in the proverbial).
Maybe you’ve already guessed: it’s women.
And now that the cold winds of the downturn are sending a chill into the economy, big business has suddenly discovered them.
Girls, girls, girls
In the UK, Sheila’s Wheels has been marketing exclusively to women for many years, offering insurance on everything from cars to handbags (yes, really).
They know that statistically, women are a lower risk than men, so they can offer better premiums safe in the knowledge that they’re less likely to have to pay out.
It’s a little too pink for my liking, but then maybe that just proves the point. (That said, I think the pink convertible might just put me in touch with my inner Priscilla.)
Now Sheila’s is being joined by mainstream brands. Frito-Lay has launched a campaign called Only in a Woman’s World to get the gals on board when it comes to chowing on down on crisps (aka chips) and popcorn with the guys as they plump up the cushions and reach for the TV remote.
And Coors, the UK’s second biggest brewer, has reportedly set up a working group called Eve, to look into marketing beer to women. In the UK, they represent only 12% of the beer drinkers, compared with 25% in the US. So Coors sees a vast untapped (sorry, couldn’t resist it) market.
US office-supplies chain OfficeMax has also joined the fray, with this advert aimed at women (click here if you can’t see the video below).
You’ll never look at box files in the same way again.
One for all, and all for one?
A word of warning, though – and this holds true whether you’re male or female, and marketing to either sex.
Know your audience.
Yes, it’s obvious – in fact, it’s the cornerstone of all copywriting, marketing and communication. But it’s so often forgotten.
Women are not some amorphous blob, any more than men are. Generalisations are very, very dangerous, because you can easily descend into stereotypes.
Not all women like pink. Not all men like sport. Not all women like a happy ending. Not all men like getting plastered with their mates while wolfing down thick-crust pizzas.
Lots do. But lots don’t.
And consider this: marketing to one segment can be a zero-sum game. Porsche discovered this when they tried to market SUVs to women. Though they saw an initial rise in sales, the numbers soon headed south as men abandoned what they thought of as a female car.
Psychologists call this ‘identity threat’, and it’s something we’re all prone to, whether we admit it or not.
So think long and hard before you market to women only. Or men only. But make sure you choose the right type of women. Or men. The ones you want to sell to, and who’ll respond to your message.
And go easy on the pink. (Unless it’s a hot pink convertible, in which case, bring it on.)
Find out more
What women really want: Hello Girls at Economist.com
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.
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.
Want people to read what you write? Of course you do.
Then talk to them directly. You may not know their name, but they all have one thing in common: they’re all called ‘you’.
Recently, I saw this sign at a local supermarket. It stopped me in my tracks. I’ve probably seen thousands of fire-exit signs in my life, but I’ve never given them much attention.
Until now.
This one made me pull out my phone-that’s-really-a-camera and take a picture.
One day, I thought, it might be me trapped inside that burning building, scrambling to get past a woman with a trolley filled with Coke and thick-crust pizzas, and a man arguing about money-off coupons while thick, acrid smoke billowed around us.
You. It’s such an obvious tactic to use, that we often overlook it.
At my gym, there’s a list of 10 ‘rules and regulations’ (what’s the difference, exactly?).
One says: the male members shall wear a training top.
Quite apart from the unintended innuendo, there’s the imperious use of ‘shall’. I’m tempted to strip off just to see what happens.
The notice is signed (inevitably) ‘The Management’.
And here’s the thing: never once does it say you. So the tone is cold, distant, and bossy. I’m likely to make a note of the rules simply to remember to break them as often as possible.
If you want people to take notice, try these three things:
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