Shape of Things

I dressed fairly conservatively up until the 7th or 8th grade, when I saw a picture of John Lennon in a polka-dot shirt.

It was late summer and I wanted that shirt to start the school year, along with a boldly printed paisley and a striped number with white collar and cuffs.

One-hit wonder

I didn’t think about the shirts going rapidly out of style.  I just wanted to make a splash. I don’t remember if I did or not, but I do remember that about a month into the school year I was embarrassed to wear the shirts.  My mother told me that the appeal of the shirts was going to be shortlived, but she let me buy them anyway.  Fortunately, she wasn’t an “I told you so” Mom and allowed me to get new shirts for Christmas.

I thought of this as I read an interview with Dan Nunan on the Business of Software blog.  Dan’s company, Scene Systems, produced the animation of the U.S. Air Hudson River landing.  The animation had an audience of nearly 2 million on YouTube and was featured on network television and in national newspapers. 

Dan was happy to get this exposure, but it wasn’t his initial goal: He just wanted to do something to make a low-cost impact at a trade show.  He did everything right in feeding the momentum of the story, but it wasn’t a source of pride.  Here’s what he said about it in an email to me:

“I admit to being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing — partly because it was unplanned, and I’m not really convinced that it brings in much of the right kind of attention.”

Big splash vs. sustainable

Dan is even more suspicious than me of what he calls the “big-splash school of PR.”  Like the polka-dot shirt, this type of PR might cause an initial stir, but it’s not likely to have legs, especially when dealing with a specialized B2B audience (in Dan’s case, lawyers).

There are many clients and companies out there that want the big splash — for them, that’s what PR is all about.  If you are a PR or marketing person in a B2B market, you have to explain that the real rewards are elsewhere.

What is much more likely to succeed is a sustained program in community building; a program that could include articles and forum participation on popular web sites, positive blog postings from prominent people in the field, strong word of mouth from influencers, and perhaps an intensely read permission-based e-newsletter that your target audience welcomes and finds valuable.  This type of program doesn’t have to be bland or conservative, but it should be something that gains momentum over the long haul.

The community-building approach is decidedly unsexy and probably won’t get you on the cover of any PR or marketing journal.  But, that slow-building approach — the equivalent of a crisp black shirt that never goes out of style — will deliver the one precious commodity that we all seek: long-lasting, measurable results with the people you really want to engage.

A headline in the April 8 edition of the Wall Street Journal read:  “Ford Takes Online Gamble With New Fiesta.”

The story is about a Ford initiative to loan 100 young people a Fiesta, then allow them to post YouTube videos, tweets and other social media messages about their experiences.  Ford allegedly has no control over the postings.  It’s a bold experiment, but a good one given one big “if”: If Ford is confident enough in the coolness and quality of the car.

I’m pulling for Ford in a big way, just like I still pull for my ex-hometown Orioles.  Like me and the O’s, Ford and I have had our ups and downs.  Well, mostly downs.

Mustang celibacy

The first car I owned was a used 1965 Mustang, a classic.  Rode like a charm.  But in about the third year of ownership, the floor behind the driver’s seat fell away, leaving just the carpet between a backseat passenger and the pavement.  Friends suggested removing the carpet and powering the car by foot, ala a Flintstones car.  Then, the passenger-side window refused to close all the way during the coldest winter in years.  I’m convinced that this contributed to my months-long celibacy that winter.

Lap of luxury

After the Mustang, I had a grand experiment with a slightly used, huge Ford LTD.  I was in the lap of luxury, riding on pillows with a front seat that stretched door to door.  The car was stolen once when I was attending a new-wave show at The Marble Bar in The Congress Hotel in downtown Baltimore, but fortunately recovered in New Media, Pennsylvania.  I’m sure the thieves enjoyed the luxurious ride, and the LTD had a killer sound system. The good times ended when the gas crisis of the early 80s hit and I traded in my limo for a Ford Pinto.

The Pinto -- cute, but deadly

The tar-pit Pinto

Yes, you know the Pinto by reputation; the one that burst into flames if hit from behind.  The one with the bone-jarring suspension.  My Pinto had a rarely documented problem: on hot days it would leak tar from a seam in the doors, as if a spore from the La Brea Tar Pit was embedded during assembly.

When will he ever learn?

Seemingly without capacity to learn from my mistakes, my first brand-new car was a Ford, a 1985 Mustang.  They made ’em like they used to.  Among the problems: a back end that became disengaged from the front of the car, leaving me a mile away from home at 2:30 a.m. in front of a laundromat where a murder occurred the previous week; massive transmission malfunctions; cruise control getting stuck (and fortunately unstuck) seconds before exiting a freeway; a twisted fuel line that delayed our arrival in our new home in North Carolina; and a broken front bucket seat.

Carrying the torch

I drive a Volkswagen now, but I still follow Ford.  I wallowed in shame as they staked their claim on huge trucks and SUVs.  But lately, I’ve been cheered by a small hybrid SUV, good reliability ratings, and the promise of the little Fiesta (despite the fact that it’s forefather was as wretched as the Pinto). 

Call me a fool, but if Ford calls, I might just open the door to my heart and come runnin’ back.

If you have even a passing familiarity with advertising, you know David Ogilvy.  His ads for Hathaway shirts, Schweppes, Rolls Royce and other clients are legendary.  But, as a recent biography illustrates, Ogilvy’s biggest legacy is not clever headlines and ad campaigns (much of which are dated today), but how he built a brand inside his own organization, then spread it to the world.

As head of his own agency, Ogilvy spent most of his time building and refining the internal story. This wasn’t the yawn-inducing stuff of values, mission statements and goals, but an ever-evolving manifesto that united and excited Ogilvy and Mather employees across the globe.

After inculcating his agency’s story internally, Ogilvy shared much of his content with the world in the best-selling book, Confessions of an Advertising Man.  The book made him a household name and had clients beating a path to his door.

Few companies, of course, have a story (or a writer to document it) that will become a best seller.  But, every company has a story waiting to be told and spread – a story that uniquely identifies who they are and why they matter.

How the story is told doesn’t matter much: It can be a printed document, an online illustrated narration, a comic-book serial, a series of presentations or videos. Whatever the media, it should resonate with employees.

Your internal story should be perpetually alive, continually evolving with the company.  Get employees involved in contributing their insights and anecdotes.  Make the story an essential tool for orienting new employees and making sure established employees keep up-to-date.

Once you’ve established the story internally, push select portions out to the world at large.

Many companies work on their outside branding without having established a story within their organizations. That seems backward.  Think like Ogilvy and do it the inside-out way.

Even as the excellent Usability Week kicks off in Washington, D.C. this week, I’m thinking that web usability doesn’t get much respect. It’s like the offensive lineman that opens the holes for the superstar running back.

There are good people telling us about web usability, but not enough designers are listening.  The gospel preached by the Nielsen Norman Group and Steve Krug is not mystical – it’s based on real studies with real people.

Still, web designers go on making life miserable for people visiting their sites. Why? They want the coolest site on the planet, even if the intro screen makes us wait 30 seconds. And who cares about visitors? What do they know about great design anyway?

Well, we might not know design, but we do know frustration. And how not to return to a web site where we’ve had a bad experience.  Like the site of the small record label I want to support, but which continually makes me wait more than a minute to go from one page to another or doesn’t send me access to my password when I forget it.  Or, the online magazine that makes me navigate through multiple links in order to increase its page views.  Or, the major newspaper that doesn’t make it easy for me to subscribe to a blog.

Jakob Nielsen’s recent study of 20 high-traffic sites showed improvement over past years, but still 80 percent had page download times of 19 seconds or more.  Nielsen sets eight seconds as a tolerable level for page download. So, usability isn’t anywhere near where it should be, given the fact that for most companies the web site is the face of their entire business.

While designers fiddle, web consumers burn, taking their money to companies whose websites show them a little respect.

What website practices cause you frustration?  At what point do you abandon a site? Who does usability well?

Note: Donald Norman of the Nielsen Norman Group will be speaking at the highly recommended Business of Software 2009.  Steve Krug spoke last year.

When I was in college, a good friend nervously opened a major presentation in a poetry course this way: “I feel like I should start with a joke.  My hometown is so small it legalized incest.”  Except for my snickering, utter silence.

A few years before as a particularly unworldly freshman, I was confronted with a tribunal of girls who wanted to screen my worthiness to court their girlfriend.  I began my case and sealed it with this intro: “Well, I’ve been with a lot of girls…”

A leading technology analyst and editor once opened his conference keynote speech on an optimistic note: “Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”

After college, I did a combined slide/audio presentation on reggae and debuted it at a party.  A friend’s wife came up to me afterwards and said: “I really didn’t think you were smart enough to do something like that.”

Me to future wife at beginning of a date early in our relationship: “Whew, your breath is bad…”

Guy to me after introducing myself at a business meeting: “You must get a lot of jokes about that name.” Me: “Ugh, not really…”

Some lines don’t leave us no matter how hard we try to forget them.  What regrettable lines have stuck with you?

In January 1969 the Beatles went into the studio to prepare for a live concert and a new album.  Recording sessions were filmed and almost everything – from musical noodling to offhand comments to deep discussions – was captured on audio tapes.  The resulting film and record were named after the song “Let It Be.”

A blow-by-blow account in the book Get Back: The Unauthorized Chronicle of The Beatles’ Let It Be Disaster, documents the painful end of a decade-long relationship.  It also offers lessons to business managers about paying attention to the changes their organizations are going through.

By “Let it Be,” George had become a major songwriting talent, but John and Paul refused to acknowledge his remarkable ascent.  In many ways, he was still seen as the adolescent kid of the group.  George reacted according to casting: bitter, sarcastic and uncooperative.

John, who formed the band and was its leader for most of its history, had become withdrawn and uncommunicative. His new obsessions: Yoko and hard drugs.  He was barely an active participant in the sessions.

With John’s abdication as a leader and George’s recalcitrance, Paul had to take on too much responsibility.  He pulled out every trick – cajoling, pleading, joking, challenging – but to no avail.  He ended up coming off shrill and egotistical.

Ringo, well, was Ringo.

“Let it Be” was a train wreck.  But, could it have been avoided?

Maybe — if someone had filled the leadership void left by Brian Epstein’s death.

Maybe — if someone could have figured out the now-conventional approach of letting individual members of a band record solo albums to give them a creative outlet for passions not shared by the rest of the group.

Maybe — if The Beatles could have taken a step back from their commitments and tried to define a common goal and sensible timetables.

What they did instead was to ignore much of what was happening around them and try to conduct business as usual.

The events leading up to The Beatles breakup are eerily familiar to anyone who has managed a business: Employees growing on divergent paths, at different rates, or not at all.  Wasteful spending. Scattered priorities. The perceived need to do more, more, more. An organizational structure riddled with cracks.  Without continuous monitoring, discussion and adjustments, companies can find themselves in the same situation as The Beatles in January 1969.

Let it be at your own risk.

The jury has reached its verdict on Simon Galbraith’s bold experiment to prove the superiority of professional photography for marketing.

Who’s hot and who’s not? See the results in Simon’s second guest spot on the Business of Software blog.

My attitude about PR has often been like Groucho’s about clubs: ” I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.”  More to the point, who’d want to be a member of the PR club, especially the way its members have handled their duties?

I answer to PR like I do a childhood nickname I don’t want to carry into adulthood.  Although I still do a good bit of traditional PR and more than my share of press releases, I’m always aware of the audience and what I’m saying to them. That’s telling a story, and it’s the real business I’m in.

I’m writing about it today as a shameless piggyback to an excellent posting by Seth Godin.  There’s also a much longer (probably too long) posting I did for the Business of Software blog.

Most of the great leaders I know are self-effacing.  They’ll open themselves to ridicule if it makes a point.

A good example: Simon Galbraith, joint CEO of Red Gate. In this post on the Business of Software blog, he literally puts his face on the line to prove his theory of professional vs. amateur photography in marketing.

You decide. Is Simon is hot or not?

Everyone should have a manifesto.  Here’s mine, directly from my myspace page:

I’m a writer and marketing/communications consultant for high-tech companies. My current quest is to change the way companies conduct public relations, evolving it from a predominately outgoing, frequently self-aggrandizing activity to one that emphasizes ongoing dialogue with customers and a relationship that goes beyond products and services.

The best companies don’t need to proselytize; their messaging comes from their customers and the way their stories are told. PR needs to shift from a hype machine to a means of building community and keeping the lines of communication open. We should be helping people, not trying to coerce them.

I’m also working to bring some literacy to the pedestrian “success story” or “case study,” turning it into the kind of feature story that people actually want to read. Finally, I’d like to eradicate all the robust, intuitive, user-friendly, world-leading new paradigms that plague technology communication.