Why more is sometimes better than better

The quest for perfection vs. dogged determination

I recently caught up with a marketing chum of mine. Last time I spoke to him, he was in the doldrums. A direct-marketing campaign he was running for a client hadn’t paid dividends. And yet he was sure that he’d covered every angle. The offer was irresistible. The mailing list was qualified. He tested different messages and saw which one worked best. In brief, he’d done everything right. And yet it was all wrong. His campaign simply wasn’t delivering the goods – for him or his client. When I left him after lunch the last time I saw him, he shuffled off despondently, scratching his head and licking his wounds (don’t try that at home). We didn’t see each other for a while, as we were carried in different directions, on different schedules. So when we did finally get together, I was keen to hear if he’d ever got to the bottom of his marketing misfire. He hadn’t, he told me. So I offered the meagre consolation we all trot out in these situations. “You can’t win them all,” I said with a what-can-you-do shrug. “Oh but I did win,” he shot back. “Big time.” And what had he changed, I wondered. The offer? The mailing list? The message? The media?

More of the same (but different)

Nothing. Yes, that’s right. He changed absolutely nothing. He simply followed up, again and again. There was a second and a third email. A telephone call. And another email, for good measure. And suddenly, as if from nowhere, orders started flooding in. Not because prospects were beaten into submission, but simply because his offer kept popping up. So they took notice, and realised it really was irresistible. Now to somebody like me (inveterate proof-reader and red-pen wielder, near-obsessive tidier and perfection-chaser) this is counter-intuitive. If something doesn’t work, it’s because it’s wrong. So you need to change it, improve it, perfect it. Then try again. Except often, you don’t. It’s like going to the gym, or learning a language, or playing the piano or mastering perspective. It’s the regularity that counts, the repetition of the same moves over and over again. Slowly, over time, your technique improves. Suddenly, you’re sculpted, or fluent, a virtuoso or a dab hand at sketching. Without even knowing it. Without changing a thing. The key thing here is that quantity is almost limitless. There are always new prospects. There’s always another email you can send, another call you can make, another tweet you can write or a blog post you can knock together. You can keep turning up again and again. Quality, on the other hand, has a ceiling. It could be the limit of your knowledge, or the extent of your marketing budget. The skill of your designers or the detail of your mailing list. Beyond a certain point, you simply cannot go. And once you hit that point, you have few options left. Apart from the obvious one, that is (it also starts with a ‘q’).

Basic instinct

At which point it’s worth bearing some simple marketing and sales truths in mind:

If you spread the load, the relative weight of one ‘no’ is not nearly as important. So go broad, not deep.
It’s not personal, so you shouldn’t take it personally. You’re marketing, or selling, or promoting, and other people often say no simply because they’re suffering from information overload – not because they don’t like you or your company.
You can’t control everything, so you shouldn’t try to. Tick the obvious boxes, and go for it.
It could be something you haven’t thought of – in fact, it probably is. An overflowing In Box, a similar offer yesterday, a school run that’s more important than your call, or a budget that’s in the nether reaches of marketing deep space.
Good enough is good enough, so stop trying to improve it. Don’t rework the email – send it to another 100 people. Don’t try to tweak every last detail of the offer – follow up with a phone call. Don’t obsess about the blog design and formatting – get cracking on another batch of posts.

And last but not least, remember that plodders often outperform perfectionists. Which is what I cheekily said to my friend over a grande cappuccino. But he didn’t take offence. Instead, he wiped off his foamy moustache and beamed a broad smile. “Plodder and proud of it,” he said loud and clear. “A rich, successful plodder.” Touché.

Kevin Ideas, Marketing.