The other day, on the treadmill at my local gym, while watching Sky News, I was struck by something.
No, not a dumbbell or a gym shoe. But a thought.
Am I the only person in the world not dyeing my hair?
Now of course I’m not, but watching the newreaders, sports reporters and correspondents, you could be forgiven for thinking that we live in a world where grey has been banished forever.
Salt and pepa (and more salt)
OK, time for a little test – on me.
Here’s the photo you’ll see popping up all over my site. It was taken a few months ago, and (if you get up close and squint) it shows some grey hair:
Let’s indulge in some time travel. Fast-forward and we get this:
Now I don’t know about you, but I think that looks pretty distinguished.
I’m thinking George Clooney, French Finance Minister Christine Lagarde, or even erstwhile Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling (minus the caterpillar eyebrows, obviously).
On the other hand, I could decide that grey was a bridge too far, and go for the raven’s wing look:
Hmm.
East End car salesman? Dodgy geezer at Newmarket offering odds on the gee-gees? Desperate-but-loveable on a dating site?
I don’t think so.
Maybe instead I’d go for a halfway house solution, the preferred choice of newsreaders everywhere.
The silver wingtips that they hope that will make people think He couldn’t be dyeing his hair. If he were, he wouldn’t have grey bits on the side.
Oh dear. Now that’s just sad.
And the problem is that the greyer – or whiter – the wingtips get, the bigger the difference between the sides and the unnaturally dark top.
Cruella de Vil here we come. Not for me, I think.
The colour of money
And the connection with copywriting, marketing and the world of business? I hear you ask, weary after last night’s office party and struggling to follow my seasonal meanderings.
It’s simple.
Everything you do sends out a signal – including trying to appear to be something you’re not. It speaks volumes about your honesty, integrity and credibility.
The business equivalent of a hint of a tint might be:
Pretending your company is bigger than it is (we, we, we).
Claiming the offer is free when it’s actually free*.
Talking about a product that’s worth X so that Y seems a really good deal by comparison.
Dodging responsibility for a problem that’s clearly of your making.
Talking in a language that overblown, larding it with marketing hype and a generous dollop of business buzzwords.
And the solution? Well you could try to:
Be yourself (people might just like you).
Humanise your company (people might just like it).
Admit your mistakes (the sky won’t fall in).
Not conceal yourself behind pompous circumlocutions and grandiloquent expressions (like those ones). Talk normal.
And remember, if everybody else is coming over all black-and-silver-wingtips, being different can set you apart. Keeping up appearances and doing a me-too means you blend in with the pack.
The bottom line? It’s OK to be grey (as long as you’re not dull, that is).
And if you’re still not convinced, here’s one last test. Santa A or Santa B?
Thought so.
Merry Christmas.
P.S. Is it just me, or do you start humming Nessun dorma when you look at B?
Getting hands-on, seeing the light and losing the attitude
Where’s the year going? It’s Copycam time again. Who would have thought it?
I’ve been snapping away with my trusty Nokia when cheeky marketing, bright ideas and clever copy tickle my fancy.
So what’s tickled?
Touchy feely
When I was in London recently, I dropped in on the new Apple store in Covent Garden.
I’ve been there before – or rather, I’ve been to what was there before before. The folks from Cupertino, you see, took over a restaurant and refitted it to create the world’s largest Apple store.
Before you start lamenting the loss of another eatery in the maw of a voracious multinational, let me tell you that as a restaurant, it was never that good.
I ate there once, and it was a classic West End tourist trap: overpriced, bad food, even worse service. And punishingly hot patio-heaters that made me feel like I was in a sauna.
Once was enough.
So out with the cheesy pizzas and glutinous pasta, and in with a big helping of Apple.
And what a feast: iPods, iPads, iTouches and Macs appetisingly laid out for punters to taste test.
Which I did. And I almost ended up buying a new Nano. And an iPhone 4. And an iPad.
And then I remembered my resolution not to snack between meals. But the takeaway wasn’t lost on me.
Lesson 1: let people try out your product or service. Nothing, but nothing, you say can conjure up the feeling of really letting them have a go. So let them have a go.
Switch and bait
How do you feel about low-energy light bulbs?
Yes, me too. Iknow I should like them, but I don’t. That deathly greenish glow they emit, combined with the odd shapes they come in, is enough to put me off.
In addition, you can’t dispose of them as you would with normal waste. Instead, the advice is to go to the local dump and put them in a special skip.
Except my local dump is four miles away, and I’d have to drive. So there’s my low-carbon footprint gone up in smoke.
Also, if you break them, the recommendation from the Department of the Environment is to vacate the room for 15 minutes.
So dangerous and difficult to dispose of? My politically incorrect attitude is looking more sensible by the minute.
And I’m obviously not alone. Now that the EU has banned 100w incandescent bulbs, they’ve become a sought-after item.
Which a lighting shop down the road from me has realised.
So an otherwise unprepossessing shop on a busy road with no parking has found a clever hook to attract customers. Who might just buy something else.
You pop in for a light bulb – and come away with a light bulb and a rather expensive Art Deco lamp.
Clever.
Lesson 2: find a difference. Shout it from the rooftops.
Hola boys
Time and time again, I have to tell people to lighten up. In their attitude to the written word, that is.
Yes, we’re serious businesspeople – all of us. And no, insurance-premium tax or IT support or web security isn’t a laughing matter.
But that doesn’t mean that you have to go all formal on people. After all, which would you respond more to in a meeting – a starchy, unsmiling, sanctimonious suit or an open-collar, first-name smiler?
As long as the smile was backed up by bright ideas, solid solutions and good service, it’s a no-brainer.
People do business with people, not businesses. And what’s more, with people they like.
Like those cheeky chappies at Nanna Mexico, an eatery in Cambridge that probably doesn’t have an apple in sight.
Big ass burritos. Don’t you just want one? A big burrito, I mean, not…well you get my drift.
You see this and you think good service, great food, lots of fun. And you haven’t even been inside the door, let alone sampled the fare.
So it’s already set itself apart from the Pizza Huts and Bella Italias of this world.
Now not everybody is a funky, happening, off-the-wall Mexican joint. So if you’re a City-based wealth-management company, you can’t talk about big ass portfolios, for example.
But you can take a leaf out of the Mexican book. Just look at the How’s my driving? question. How many times have you seen that before? Lots, I’ll bet.
But usually, it’s followed by a bland, anonymous email address – info@, contact@, reply@. I once even saw one that said noreply@, which was funny and tragic at the same time.
But luis@ makes me feel it’ll go to a real person. A real person who cares.
And that matters.
Lesson 3: lighten up, get personal and connect with customers (however big and important you are).
Find out more:
See the light. The EU’s characteristically inaccessible press release on low-energy light bulbs.
Buen apetito. If you’re heading up Cambridge way, why not grab a big ass burrito at Nanna Mexico? Tell Luis I sent you.
Forbidden fruit. Something’s bound to tickle your tastebuds at Apple’s new Covent Garden store.
More doesn’t mean better. In fact, it can mean worse.
A few months ago, I was chatting with a headhunter – no, not the South American type, but one who hunts in the concrete jungle.
He places top people into top jobs in the City of London, the beating financial heart of the capital. Think huge salaries, big bonuses and corner offices with walls of glass.
“So,” I said, “what makes them move? Is it the chance of even bigger salaries and bonuses?”
He didn’t even pause to think.
“It’s never about money. Never. Ever.”
Surprised? I was too. Surely you can never have enough zeroes on the end of your bank balance or big fat carrots on sticks at the end of the month?
Apparently you can.
For after a certain point, money fails to motivate. And that point is not as far down the line as you might think. For even high-flyers in the City are motivated by lesser things.
Like real challenges, new horizons and things that keep them fresh, alert and engaged.
What makes people tick is at the heart of Dan Pink’s talk, which I’ve just finished watching. The surprising science of motivation was delivered to TED Global in Oxford during the summer.
Here’s what I took away from it:
Larger rewards almost always lead to worse results.
Incentives dull thinking and block creativity.
The key to the 21st century can be summed up in three words: autonomy, mastery and purpose.
Google ‘gets’ it (that’s why we have Gmail, Orkut and Google News).
But I don’t want to spoil the talk by giving too much away.
Grab a skinny latte, put your feet up and treat yourself to 18 minutes and 36 seconds of entertainment, insights and sticking candles to walls (no, really – trust me).
If not, change what you sell – or how you sell it.
My day started so well.
The summer sun poured through my office windows, and a steaming cup of coffee stood on my desk, its rich aroma teasing my tastebuds with anticipation.
Then the call came. A withheld number, which is never a good sign.
“Hello, Kevin,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Isn’t it a wonderful day?”
“Uh, yes,” I mumbled. “But more to the point, who the bloody hell are you?”
Actually, I didn’t.
Instead, I let him cast his line, safe in the knowledge that I wasn’t going to be hooked. As soon as he said the word ‘cricket’, I knew I was right.
You see, you’re either a cricket fan or you’re not. And I’m not.
Doug was from a corporate sports marketing company. And guess what? A box at Lord’s (The Home of Cricket – isn’t that a great tagline?) had just come free. Just think of the corporate entertaining I could do!
Except I couldn’t. And wouldn’t. And I told him so.
“Ah,” he said irrepressibly, “so not a cricket fan. What about football?”
No.
“Tennis?”
No.
“Rugby?”
No.
“Horse racing?”
No.
“Dogs?”
No. No. No.
Game over. Insert new coin.
Sometimes, you just have to face it: they’re not buying what you’re selling. And you can do one of two things.
You can either keep on trying, which means you’ll waste your time (and lose lots of other sales to more likely customers).
Or you can change what you’re selling. A bit like Virgin Mobile didn’t do when I spoke to them about their mobile-phone contracts.
“You don’t send texts?” said the incredulous customer sales person.
Yes, that’s right. Calls, yes. Texts, no. So could they give me more calling minutes in lieu of the hundreds of texts I’d never send? Couldn’t they make an exception?
“Um, I don’t think so,” she said, fishing around for a killer argument.
And then she found one.
“You see, if we made an exception for you, we’d have to make an exception for everybody, and give them what they wanted.”
Mentally, I moved my chess piece. Checkmate.
But I savoured my little moment, and let the silence drag on, until she could bear it no longer.
“You see my point, don’t you?” she pleaded.
I didn’t.
And the very next day, I changed my mobile operator – to one that let me take any mix I wanted of minutes and texts.
Lights, camera, action
Most companies think they know what their customers want. And they keep on hitting those little square pegs harder and harder, in the hope that they’ll one day go in.
Clever companies think like customers. And when people aren’t buying, they change what they’re selling, or how they sell it, until customers do buy.
Just like lovefilm.com did.
When I first checked, this DVD-rental website was just too expensive. I like films, but not enough to pay £15 a month (that’s $22.50 or €17.50).
So I didn’t bite.
But wait, it told me – I could have four discs at a time, and an unlimited number of films per month.
I still didn’t bite.
Then my local DVD store closed down, so I checked again.
Same deal. Same reaction.
And then last week, fearing becoming a social outcast (I hadn’t seen Slumdog Millionaire) I checked again.
And there, I saw a new package, aimed at ‘lite’ users, priced at just £4 ($6, €4.60) a month.
I bit.
So you see? If people aren’t buying, it’s because you’re not selling what they want. It’s not that they don’t like you. It’s not that your product doesn’t work or your service doesn’t deliver.
It’s simply that something, somewhere in the mix is wrong.
Get it right, and they’ll bite.
Find out more:
What do you mean you haven’t seen Slumdog Millionaire? Quick, hurry over to lovefilm.com.
Leg before wicket? It’s simply not cricket. Check out Lord’s Cricket Ground (tell Doug I sent you).
Take the time to get it right – you’ll be glad you did
OK, it’s time for a tea break. You’ve been working way too hard, so kick back, put your feet up and let’s have some green tea.
But which one? Well today, I have two for you to choose from.
Here’s number 1:
And here’s number 2:
Quick! Don’t think about it. Don’t rationalise. Just make a split-second decision.
1 or 2?
If you’re anything like me (and if so, you have my condolences) you’ll instantly plump for number 2.
Why? Because it’s jaunty, slightly irregular, and looks less corporate. It’s got a left-of-centre, independent-thinker, doesn’t-follow-the-crowd feel about it.
And yet it’s the very same tea: Clipper Green Tea with Lemon. It recently underwent a makeover and now looks more funky, fun and friendly.
Note, by the way, that v2 has lost the Fairtrade logo from the front of the box (it’s tucked away elsewhere). Why? Well probably because it wasn’t so important to green tea drinkers.
And how did the Clipper people know that? Simple. They asked their customers (revolutionary, I know). They cheekily slipped this card into the old boxes, and enticed people with a bagful of goodies:
And they got their answer.
The shock of the new
Shopping online or off is a confusing experience. We look for signs – indicators that tell us what to think, what to do, how to behave. We look for patterns, because they make us feel safe.
We look for the familiar.
Take books. Now we all know we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but we all do – whether we like it or not.
Let’s do another test. It’s time for some 19th century bodice-ripping. Which of these two books would you rather read?
This one:
Or this one:
The first is sure to be heavy going: long sentences, archaic language and detailed intrigue.
And the second? Well that’s a bit…Bridget Jones-like, isn’t it? A bit chick-lit, girl-about-town, we-all-know-what-she-really-wants.
And of course, it’s exactly the same novel, word for word.
Up close and personal
Let’s take a big company. A big, serious, behemoth of an organisation, with branches all over the world.
Unilever: it’s an umbrella company for brands that touch the lives of people across the globe. It could – like so many other parent companies – have a bland, dowdy, corporate feel.
The whole site has a light and airy feel, with splashes of colour and playful graphics. And everywhere, but everywhere, people are smiling.
Who would have thought that washing up was so much fun? Or doing the laundry? Or brushing your teeth?
What’s your first impression? And how does it compare with Dupont? Not as favourably, does it?
Granted, Dupont’s product range isn’t as consumer-oriented as Unilever (don’t you just love the promise on their home page: Spend less time on insect control…) but they could still make it more attractive.
First things first
When your first impression could be your only one, it’s worth making the effort.
Think of somebody you don’t particularly like. Chances are you didn’t like them on sight.
Why?
Often, it’s not easy to explain. Maybe they dressed down, or up, or in an old-fashioned way. Perhaps they looked you up and down or scored points at your expense. They may have said something – or forgotten to say something.
And that was it – you formed a first impression. However hard you’ve tried, you can’t shake it off.
Well, it’s the very same with your company, your brand, your products, your service. It’s what happens with everything you do, say, write, present, include and exclude.
You create an impression. And that can take just a split second.
When somebody reads your home page, opens your brochure, talks to you on the phone, hears about you from a friend or sees your AdWord, what’s the first thing they think?
First impressions count – because first impressions last. It could be your one and only chance to gain somebody’s attention and trust.
For a FREE, no-obligation chat, call me now on (01223) 241749.
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