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Incidental Marketing

Contact lens wearers are a savvy lot. They know that once they’ve found the lens for the right eye, the other lens will inevitably fit the left eye. Thus there’s no reason to label the two sides of the contact lens case “L” and “R” as in the top example. You could call the second lid “not R”, or you could leave it blank… or you could use it for MARKETING, like the smart folks at Alcon in the lower example.

This example gets 100 points for incidental marketing, in which we use an available medium to communicate with consumers where otherwise an opportunity would be lost. Contact users see their contact lens cases every time they put in their lenses… what a great reason to remind them of the contact lens cleaner to buy next time. Unfortunately, this example gets 0 points for branding because the name of the brand actually isn’t Alcon. It’s “Opti-Free Express”. Oh well.

The middle manager

Early in my career I was direct marketing manager at a department store. The post office announced its first-ever presort discount (this tells you how long ago it was) but gave no instructions on how to prepare a mailing list to get the discount. An enterprising software company wrote an application to do the presort and they were willing to let me use it—for a finders fee of half the savings in postage.

I turned it down without a second thought, even though I could have still saved thousands of dollars. The prospect of looking like a sucker to my superiors far outweighed the financial gain. And of course the gain was to the company, while the looking foolish was on me personally.

I remembered this recently when a client wanted to do some email promotions. I did a bit of research and recommended several services that work with small lists. Then she came back to me with an objection that never would have occurred to me—what if somebody at the email service decides to steal their mailing list? Although highly unlikely, this was a big internal concern at the company and it stopped the email program in its tracks.

The concerns of middle managers are very different than those of higher up folks who have responsibility and maybe get a share of P&L. Managers are reviewed for being on time and on budget, with no unpleasant surprises. This is something to keep in mind in marketing, and also when dealing with them in person because often a direct marketing manager is your immediate client as a freelancer.

When writing a marketing letter to a middle manager, it’s a good idea to stress the absolute lack of negatives. Testimonials are priceless—your reader doesn’t want to be the first to take the plunge. Benefits like “make your job easier” and “stop users from complaining” are far more relevant than “help your company grow its revenue”.

And when you’re delivering your copy to the real-life middle manager, be on time!

Path of least resistance

I bought a vintage table saw last summer and almost immediately broke the vintage drive belts. Wonder of wonders, somebody had done the same thing and posted pictures of his repair online. However, my saw’s setup looked different than the photos. I spent a good 8 hours patiently jockeying the loose parts into alignment without success. Then it dawned on me: it just can’t be this hard. I took a fresh look at my saw and realized one of the bearings had popped out of its housing. I cleaned the parts, popped it back in and was done in 20 minutes.

Another story with the same outcome: many years ago I was driving a VW bus on a very bad road in southern Mexico when a shock absorber came loose behind one of the wheels. I spent a couple hours trying to get it back on as a steadily growing audience of local indigenous men watched me. Finally one got impatient and pointed something out with sign language. The bolts that went into the top and the bottom mounts were different. And you could easily tell what was the bottom bolt because it had more road grit on it.

The lesson is, there’s usually a logical way to do things and people who are not bogged down by intellectual musings will find that way automatically by following the path of least resistance. Good designers of mechanical things know that and design accordingly (a notable exception being 1970s and 80s Detroit cars, where they’d often create special tools to make up for the fact their engine compartments were inaccessible) and ad writers should do the same.

If a reader has made the commitment to proceed through your letter or other body copy, they are fully intending to follow that path of least resistance. They know that A is followed by B, or supposed to be. Put a surprise in the road when they’re about to get to B—a special offer, or a new benefit—and it will get maximum attention. Change course without adding a benefit, and you’ll confuse and irritate and lose the reader. Keep this in mind when you’re framing out your next project.

Measure twice. Cut once.

I’ve been doing a lot of carpentry this summer, and I find myself pleased by the unforgiving nature of working with a saw. Once you make a cut you can’t take it back. Master carpenters who do the same thing over and over again develop an instinctive eye and a steady hand for sure, accurate cuts. But a tinkering hobbyist doesn’t get enough practice, so mistakes are going to happen. And it’s a milestone in the tyro’s journey when you decide you will toss away the maimed piece (perhaps an expensive piece of stock you’ve worked on for several hours) and start over rather than live with your mistake.

Copywriting used to be something like this, early in my career. I was too early for computers but too late to have access to a steno pool where my manuscript would be retyped. A copy deck was expected to look good as well as read well when submitted—no typos, strikeovers or white-out permitted. And there were moments, many of them, when you’d take the page out of your typewriter, read it over, and realized you should have used a different word or sentence order. And you’d have the choice of living with something that possibly could have been better—or typing the whole page over again.

There’s no doubt computers make for better copy. Not only can you delete your mistakes, you can try all kinds of what-ifs without penalty before hitting the “print” button. But I miss the finality…the recognition that once you type a word, there’s no going back without paying a price. In fact, that may have been what separated a good junior copywriter from a hack—the willingness to not only learn from your mistakes, but pay for them in extra time at the keyboard.

“It’s [still] not creative unless it sells.”

I’ve always followed David Ogilvy’s dictum, which means I never show work around if I know was not successful in the marketplace. But what if the market was wrong? Or, to put it less arrogantly, what if the lists got messed up somehow and my mailer or email went to the wrong folks? Shouldn’t you be allowed a free pass once every few decades on work YOU really like and think is good?

I was going to present the piece shown here as an example. It’s always been one of my personal favorites, though I hadn’t looked at it in a number of years. The client and I were very surprised at the time that it was not a big winner. But when I pulled it out today, I could immediately see what was wrong.

The outer envelope (upper right in the photo) is what kills this package. We’re selling a book of relaxing natural cures to women and I wanted to use a lemon to illustrate how our mind has powers to help us. (Really concentrate, think about a lemon and its taste, and your mouth starts to pucker up.) But where’s the reader benefit in this? I was also betrayed by my choice of visuals from a great designer… this stop-motion bursting lemon image is frenetic when it should be calming, and the background should be green not purple for a restful, natural cure. And yep, that reversed out type is pretty hard to read.

Inside is lots of good stuff which the recipient of this package never got to see. There are two headlines I like: “Pamper Yourself Healthy” and “Natural Cures that Feel as Good as They Work”. Either one of these might have given me a fighting chance if I’d used it on the outer.

Once again the marketplace—and David Ogilvy—are right.

The “Buffer” problem

Our San Francisco Chronicle TV critic, Tim Goodman, recently urged us to watch a new show on FX called “The Riches”. It’s about a family of “Travelers” (think Gypsies, without the ethnic implications) and how they outsmart and rip off mainstream Americans who are called “Buffers” in the show.

I like the acting, but I signed off about halfway into the current show, when Doug Rich BSs his way through an introductory speech to his new staff at the firm where he’s pretending to be a lawyer, then the family fails to BS its way into a private school. The problem is that we viewers don’t know whose side we are supposed to take. We don’t identify with the Riches who are not a particularly attractive or likeable lot, and we are smarter than the real estate office that Doug Rich BSs with his nonsense speech that is supposed to be a tour de force.

Aristotle figured this out a while back, by the way. Dramatic appeal in tragedies comes from the “tragic flaw” in an otherwise heroic protagonist, while the protagonist in a comedy, our representative in what can be a very chaotic tableaux, is an essentially good person of modest abilities who is striving for something better. (Thanks to the nice De Paul University syllabus notes I found to refresh myself on this topic. )

Ineffective advertising is often bad because of this very failing. Who are we in this scenario? What problem of ours is being solved? The audience is not given anything credible or of sufficient weight to identify with. A straw man problem is presented and then solved, but we don’t care because we never got involved in the first place.

What does it taste like?

I’m finishing up a project that had me writing web product copy for over 150 different cuts and preparations of beef, pork and lamb. I need to describe each one in a way that makes the reader understands how it’s unique. A lot of this has to do with taste. Or does it?

So much great food writing is about the experience surrounding the eating—the origin of the ingredients, the way they’re prepared, the environment in which they’re consumed. Tasting itself is when all these elements come together—it’s the payoff for being in this place, at this time, eating this food. And if it’s good, that first bite and the flavor released becomes a time capsule or shorthand for remembering the entire experience.

Prepared dishes are easier to describe because the flavors play off against each other. The other day for lunch, for example, I had the Pork Bacon Sandwich at Cam Huong in Oakland’s Chinatown. The crunchy baguette lends crispness while showering my lap with crumbs. Mayonnaise adds sweetness and lubrication. Cucumber sliced and pickled daikon and carrot shreds provide coolness, crunch and slight acidity. Jalapeno means more crunchiness plus the anticipation of a delayed reaction mouth tingle from the aromatic chili oils. And all this is a backdrop for two meats. The “bacon” is one of those Asian special-pork concoctions that has very little taste but the slippery mouth feel that we love from fat. And the other pork, shredded, is cooked with salt and red spices and ends up with a gamy intensity which we recognize as the essence of meat. The day laborer who’s grabbed the seat opposite me asks how is it, and I say “great”.

By comparison, how does a New York steak taste? I find myself writing about musculature and where the beef comes from on the animal in part to make the reader an expert so they’ll feel comfortable presenting this expensive meat to their guests. And when it’s time to deliver an institutional message it comes through sounding like this:

“Eating dry-aged beef is as sensual and satisfying as drinking well-aged wine. The flavors have deepened and mellowed. The taste is concentrated, an effect brought about by moisture loss and by changes in the meat itself. Natural enzymes in the meat break down the fibers, enhancing the taste with a delicious nutty flavor and tender texture.”

So, science and nature come together to make magic which translates to user satisfaction. Appealing? I hope so. One of the greatest challenges, I found, is that there are actually only two words that describe this experience—“taste” and “flavor”. Can you tell me some others? Another word, “tenderness” which is universally used as a compliment for really good steak, is more closely related to the amount of fat than anything else. While “texture” is a promise, that when you bite into this stuff it WILL be tender, or perhaps crunchy, or maybe it will coat your tongue with the eggy creaminess of a rich sabayon.

Food writing may be hard, but it is easy and fun to read because it is so experiential and suffused with the joy of life. My personal favorite example, and in fact a book that was mentioned by many of the chefs I interviewed, is Heat by Bill Buford (that’s an Amazon.com ordering link). Buford, whose day job is an editor for The New Yorker, decides to see what life is like as a line cook at a Mario Batali restaurant. Before we know it, he’s made a lifelong commitment to a summer job carving meat in a Tuscan village. Go get it, and read it. But be sure you go hungry.

The Polemicist’s dilemma

I’ve been working on a project that has caused my to read Michael Pollan’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and re-read “Fast Food Nation” by Eric Schlosser. I’m pretty much in agreement with the pro-natural food, anti-factory food arguments made in both books. However, I found the polemicizing in one book far more compelling for reasons that are worth noting by marketers.

Pollan follows four meals from farm to table and makes commentary along the way as to how the food is raised and processed. The first meal is fast food, and the villain is “big ag” which seeks to coopt sustainable sources, organic standards, traditional family farms and foods free of drugs and pesticides in order to deliver something that follows the letter of the law while totally disrespecting the spirit by which honest, healthy meals have traditionally come to the table. So far so good.

The problem is that his is a holistic outrage; you need to totally buy into his argument to accept each part of it. And while in most cases I was nodding my head, at one point I found myself thinking “that’s actually pretty cool” when he described all the things you can make with corn. This is preaching to the choir and to the extent that Pollan wants to make new converts, I don’t know that he is doing it.

Schlosser, by contrast, adopts a “but wait, there’s more” approach to layer on the outrages of eating at McDonalds et al. It starts modestly, even acknowledging that the stuff can taste pretty good. Nothing here to make a Big Mac lover put down the book. But he gradually adds outrages and pulls you in. “You don’t like the feces in the beef? Well, let me tell you about the factory workers that get their limbs chopped off.” You’re led to agreement in baby steps, and thus potentially converted.

We direct marketers are happy to ignore the 98% or so of our audience that doesn’t pay any attention to our work, and focus on tweaking and maximizing our message to the remaiing 2%. It’s probably a worthy goal for a polemicist to get 2% of his or her readers to change their attitudes somewhat. I think Schlosser does a better job, but I recommend you read both books and decide for yourself.

(This post has been edited. There are four meals described in Pollan’s book and I want to make it clear his fast food outrage is specifically about the first meal, thus offering an apples-to-apples [or fries-to-fries] comparison with Schlosser. Be sure you read on about the other three meals, and don’t miss Angelo and the pigs.)

Best in the world UPDATE

After I wrote about how you could not find Google Adwords results for “best (x) in the world”, I went and tried the Adwords registration process myself. I found that I could not use “best” in my own ad because comparatives are not allowed unless from a third party. I COULD choose “world’s best copywriter” as a search phrase, but Google warned me my results would be so low that a CPC could not be calculated. That was around March 12.

But as of today (4/19/06), something’s changed. If you look up “best copywriter in the world” you will find lots of sidebar ads. 8 on each of the first two pages, 2 on the third page. I don’t actually think that all those people got the idea from my blog. More likely something has changed in the bowels of Google.

But I’ll stand with my original thought: nobody wants to hear you talk about how great you are, and the folks who do happen to click on these ads are not going to turn into leads. Let’s watch and see what happens over time…

Best in the World

We’ve all had clients who think the way to open a sales letter is to say, “As the world leader in intelligent solutions that do xyz, Acme Systems would like you to know blah blah etc…”

There are two obvious problems with this strategy. The first is that chest-pounding self-importance tends to put people off, not endear them. Readers want to know “what’s in it for me?”, not how great you think you are. And the second is that claims of superiority are not credible unless they are a/supported by hard facts and b/proffered by someone other than the person or company being judged.

You wouldn’t want to throw it in your client’s face that their self-centric posturing (which probably comes straight from the CEO’s corner office) is going to doom their campaign before it gets started, so here’s some useful third party validation: the U.S. Olympic Ski Team, which chose as their slogan for the recently-concluded Winter Games “Best in the World”.

The slogan didn’t say anything about the team’s passion or aspirations, as something so uninspired as “Striving to Be Our Best” might have done. It’s generic, anybody could have said it, and the only way it could have been remotely acceptable would be if you actually were best in the world, which our boys and girls demonstrably weren’t. So it became an object of ridicule, until ultimately Austrian skier Herman Maier, who actually is, shouted “best in the world!” from his victory podium.

Oh, here’s another objective test you can try with your client. Look up “best [insert your client’s business description] in the world” on Google and notice how many Adwords classified ads appear on the side. There almost certainly will be no ads at all. Try it with several variations and it will be the same. Meaning that everyone who has tried marketing to the phrase has abandoned it and it’s not even worth paying 1 cent for the top position. Best in the world, indeed.