|"I did NOT shred my own shirts!"|
Monday, March 21, 2016
Friday, March 4, 2016
|"Well, so it's mechanical!"|
Oh ... I get it now.
Machines have two primary functions: they perform the task they were built for or, failing that, they serve as emotionless objects through which we can vent our pent-up rage and frustration.
Who among us hasn’t wanted to go all on the company printer? We slam our car doors, punch , and throw our remotes against the wall. (You guys do that, right?) And we take out our aggression without a hint of remorse because these are victimless drubbings. We’re thrashing machines, not people.
But what if that machine looked a lot like Dave from Shipping (or at least had Dave’s stumpy-legged gait) and you saw him being tormented by Rick the floor manager as he was trying to pick up a box? You’d feel some anxiety. Really, you would. , starting at 1:22.
You see what Rick is doing with that hockey stick? It’s inhuman. Watch as Rick pushes the poor bastard onto his “face” at 2:05 and tell me you don’t feel anything. You can almost hear what Dave is thinking as he slowly rises to his foot-pads.
Then, after he pauses to collect himself, you can see Dave consider and decide against extracting robotic revenge, instead walking slowly out the door--which he does not slam because, being a robot, he isn’t mad. We are. At Rick, for tormenting a machine.
It’s a natural response. Even would feel for that robot because it seems human. It’s just how we’re wired. According to by University of Chicago psychologist Nicholas Epley, anthropomorphism “reflects a deep drive to form social connections, even with objects made of metal and wire.” And this drive, he found, increases as our sense of social isolation grows.
And if from Duke University and the University of Arizona is any indication, anthropomorphism is going to skyrocket as social media (ironically) makes us all feel more socially isolated.
So keep that in mind as you try to connect with your audiences. Rather than speak of the sweeping societal benefit of your organization, product, or service, describe instead how your organization, product, or service helps Dave in shipping.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
|"I don't want to alarm anyone, gentlemen, |
but now might be a good time
to start praying."
Just hours after some drunk guy Kamikaze-ed a stolen Cessna 150 into the South Lawn of the White House, my boss came down to my office to personally express his disappointment that I hadn’t briefed him on the incident.
It was September 12, 1994 and the PR world was trying to re-calibrate itself into the perpetual “rapid-response mode” that was the hallmark of Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign, made famous in the documentary “The War Room” that had come out the year before.
Once that film hit the theaters, my boss put me in charge of gathering up the world’s news and reading the summaries to him every morning at 7:00 as Earl drove him to the office. If a plane crash landed at the White House in the middle of the night then, “Dammit, John, I need to know about it!”
Fair enough. But this was 1994 and the Internet—and my twin daughters—were still toddlers and no help whatsoever in gathering news. So I had to get up at 5:00 a.m., scan four newspapers, watch CNN and the local news programs, and listen to the radio news station all while feeding my kids breakfast—one Cheerio at a time. A War Room operation this was not.
I was reminded of this Cronkite-ian nightmare recently when a new movie, also called “The War Room,” broke the box office with its unconventional promotional strategy. Marketed solely through social media, the movie debuted at number two after “Straight Outta Compton,” raking in $11.4 million in its opening weekend—nearly four times what it cost to make. (As of yesterday, it had racked up $65 million in ticket sales.)
Much like the original “War Room,” this movie provides critical lessons about the changing rules of successful marketing and communication. Here are seven big ones:
Be religious in your audience targeting—“The War Room” was made by evangelicals for evangelicals. Period. “Our bull’s-eye audience are people of faith and the church,” said director Alex Kendrick. And because he wasn’t trying to entertain a mass audience, Kendrick’s film resonated with his religious audience.
Preach to the choir—According to Kendrick, they “intentionally showed the film to pastors and community leaders to get their support.” But the power of these co-conspiratorial relationships is magnified exponentially on social media. People listen to people they trust. And while you may not have a network of churches in your LinkedIn contacts, you do have a flock of Facebook friends who, in turn, have flocks of their own. And so on.
Don’t worship false matinee idols—Do you remember Johnny Depp’s blockbuster hit Mortdecai? Of course you don’t. It disappeared from the theaters faster than John Wilkes Booth. The fact is A-list star power doesn’t guarantee butts in movie-theater seats anymore. But if you cast an unknown, you might have a prayer. And if that rookie actress happens to be Priscilla Shirer—best-selling author and daughter of the Rev. Tony Evans, one of the most well-known pastors in America—well, buddy, your prayers are gonna be answered.
In the beginning, move heaven and Earth—There’s a reason people dress like over-stuffed Oreos and dance at shopping malls. There is a power and excitement to launches that is only magnified by social media. To hype their opening weekend, the producers spent months reaching out to fellow pastors, Christian book stores owners, and community leaders, and implored them to “encourage the people that you’re leading and the people that you are influencing … to see ‘War Room.’”
Cast bread upon the waters—And this outreach paid off in ways they probably hadn’t anticipated. After seeing several Facebook posts about the movie, Danielle Wright—the host of an online radio show called “Power of Prayer”—arranged a private screening for more than 200 church leaders a day before the film was released. Guess what they preached about that weekend?
Judge not? Best ye be judged—If you want to secure that critical buy-in from influential community leaders, you’re going to have to invite critical comments from them first. In order to build strong bonds with the network of influential pastors who drove millions of parishioners to the movie, the filmmakers invited the pastors to view and criticize early versions of the film … five times. This was quite clever, really. Once the pastors had a hand in editing, the film’s ultimate box-office success was now their responsibility.
Remember the Good Book—Social media marketing is a multi-platform affair. To inspire communication about their movie, the producers wrote seven different online “War Room” bible study guides, including a “leader kit,” that can be yours for the low low price of $24.99—less than the price of a bag of buttered popcorn and a small diet Coke. Bless their hearts.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
|"Don't worry, Beautiful. |
He's not talking about us."
I’m so claustrophobic that a half-full metro car can rattle my jimmies. So when a sudden apocalyptic thunderstorm forced me, my family and 3,000 other tourists to seek shelter in the lobby of the Tavern on the Green restaurant in Central Park, I freaked out.
As people jammed into the Tavern, the mob grew into a frothing sea of wild-eyed tourists that carried us deeper into the bowels of this over-priced tourist trap. Suddenly, a wave of Midwesterners crashed into us from the right, ripping Karlyn from my grasp. As I watched my daughter being swept away by a riptide of obese Iowans—her blond head bobbing up and down in a sea of “I Heart NY” t-shirts and Styrofoam Statue of Liberty crowns—I panicked.
Acting on pure lizard-brain survival impulses, I zipped around to make a dash for the exit. Unfortunately, in my blind panic I didn’t see the rather short, kind of cute, full-figured woman behind me, or her two crutches which I proceeded to knock out from under her.
I knew that if she fell, she would be trampled by the mob, so I instinctively grabbed her and held her upright. Unfortunately, all I could grab in that mob scene were her breasts. True story. Here I was, holding up a complete stranger by her Playtex Cross Your Heart bra—in full lift-and-separate mode—staring directly into her eyes which were ablaze with shock, anger and … well, I’m not quite what that other emotion was, but it was about as far from “happy” as an emotion can be.
There’s a reason we Americans are so protective of our personal space. That invisible force field that keeps us an appropriate distance from each other also keeps terrible, horrible, awful things like that from happening.
But social media is tearing down the personal space between us, stripping away the social constructs that have kept us lifted and separated from each other for most of the last 100 years. Social media has drawn us all into the crowded lobby of the Internet, scrunching us so closely against each other that our every flaw is exposed and shared with the world.
The impact of this new candid camaraderie has been most profound on the glitterati. The “experts” and “leaders” and “stars” of the 20th century whom we trusted, obeyed, and adored have been stripped of their magic by the Internet which showed us that, in a lot of ways, even the most magnificent among us really are just frightened little men and women pulling levers behind a curtain.
But there is a lot that is troubling about this new reality for those of us in the Bandwidth Generation who took some comfort in having our stars so far out of our reach. We didn’t want our heroes to be human; we wanted them to be flawless models we could emulate.
And even though we knew we weren’t ever going to play in the big leagues or kiss Demi Moore on the silver screen, we worked hard to get as close to our dreams as possible. We perfected our game, hid our flaws, and presented idealized versions of ourselves to the world.
And now, after all that work, artificial perfection has been trumped by unscripted authenticity. It seems that Millennials--the 80 million people between the ages of 18 and 35 who are taking over the world--really do prefer red-pill reality over blue-pill perfection. Consider this: last week, Hillary Clinton's campaign launched a $2 million TV ad campaign that features a scripted, edited, and damn-near perfect 60-second commercial in which the presumptive nominee waxes nostalgic about her mom. It's gotten 80,000 views.
Meanwhile, a video of late-night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel tearing up over the death of Cecil the lion, which came out the same day as Hillary's ad, has nearly eight million views--one hundred times more than Hillary's polished ter ... ribute to her mom.
If it isn't already abundantly clear, let me spell it out for you: it’s time to loosen the tie, unclench the fake smile and start being real. Here are seven simple things you can do right now to get back the authenticity you spent your entire career trying to hide:
1. Praise others. (Extra points if you praise your competitor.)
2. Apologize when you screw up. Immediately. Sincerely. And as publicly as necessary.
3. Say “I don’t know” when you don’t know. And promise to follow up when you do.
4. Be grateful. It will change your life.
5. Give credit. No one can make a pencil without help. Credit those who helped.
6. Don’t boast. Yes, it’s important to tell your story, but try not to use your Trump voice. It’s very annoying.
7. Be nice and mind your manners.
Monday, July 20, 2015
|"Sure we're a unique demographic...for 1981. |
But we'll be busting out big time in 2015!"
Back when we would willingly sit through seven-and-a-half minutes of commercials to watch 22-and-a-half minutes of Bosom Buddies, corporations spent literally billions of dollars on advertising to convince us to trust their brands.
Brand-building was strictly the purview of corporate America because it was prohibitively expensive. In order to reach lil ol’ you, advertisers had to blast their messages repeatedly to one of the demographic groups you belonged to. Target demographics, as defined by Madison Avenue, were massive chunks of the US population awkwardly grouped in the tens of millions by a handful of characteristics like gender, age, income, race, and geography.
It took a lot of money to make an impression on such enormous clusters of society. But there was no alternative. You needed clear and compelling communication in order to effectively build your brand. Today the opposite is true. Literally. You need a clear and compelling brand in order to communicate effectively.
You see, social media has splintered the 20th century demographic model into untold millions of self-selected communities. These online communities have come together organically based on common values, experiences, and interests. And communication within these communities is generally restricted to people they trust … others in their communities. Outsiders simply haven’t earned their trust.
So if you—an outsider—want to communicate with them, you need to first present a clear brand that shows you share their values, experiences or interests.
The good news is that it’s a lot easier and cheaper build a trusted brand than ever before. Social media has turned us all into Mad Men, giving us powerful production and distribution tools we need to create and manage our brands.
The bad news is that many people—particularly those who have built successful pre-Internet careers without giving a second though to building a brand—are intimidated by the prospect of having to take responsibility for their own brand.
But unless you’re planning to retire in the next year or two, brand building is in your future. If you’re ready and willing to learn more, we’re ready and willing to answer your questions … for free! Just click here and we’ll get things started.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
|"We waited three years ... for THIS??"|
Like HAL 9000 from Kubrick’s masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey, Kodak—the once undisputed leader in its field—is now singing “Daisy Bell” to an increasingly hostile audience.
Case in point: When Kodak unveiled its first smartphone last January at CES 2015, analysts expected the long-awaited phone to go on sale in late March, likely in the United Kingdom. Instead, Kodak missed the deadline by two months, opted for the Netherlands over the UK, and gave their phone the same name as the Perez-Hilton manufactured boy band that was unleashed on the public shortly after Kodak filed for bankruptcy protection back in 2012.
Not that anyone noticed. Kodak’s big announcement would have been the proverbial one-hand-clapping were it not for intrepid reporting by PhoneArena.com and the Ecumenical News.
And not that anyone cared. The reviews from Kodak’s big reveal back in January were the tech-community equivalent of, “Aww, Kodak! Let’s just scotch tape that to the refrigerator door so everyone can see it.” TechRadar.com labeled it nothing special. And the Verge warned: “This is the first Kodak phone, and it’s probably not for you.”
We know this mighty has fallen. The question is how? The smart money’s on their mission statement.
Before Kodak started Chapter 11 of their tragic history, their mission statement was a 110-word board-room war cry that spoke of “a world-class, results-oriented, diverse culture based on our six key values” that offered their “customers and consumers differentiated, cost-effective solutions” in pursuit of their “fundamental objective … Increased Global Market Share and Superior Financial Performance.” [Caps theirs.]
By contrast, Instagram—which became the new first-name in photography when Facebook acquired the company for $1 billion in cash and stock just two months after Kodak signed their articles of surrender—doesn’t have a mission statement. It has a quest: “To give all users a view of the world as it happens.” And it seems to be working for them. RBC Capital recently reported that Instagram could generate more than $2 billion in ad revenue next year.
The jarring contrast between Kodak’s mission and Instagram’s quest is a cautionary tale for those organizations still clutching to the “What’s good for GM” mentality of the 20th century.
To be successful in the Interactive Age, you need to have a connection with your audience or your customers (or your “customers and consumers” if you’re not into that whole brevity thing) well before you try to sell them your product or service. Simon Sineck demonstrates this quite beautifully in his TED Talk.
And the most meaningful connections begin with a shared quest. Unlike a mission—which is a directive from an external source that’s nailed to the break room wall right above the coffee maker—a quest is driven by a passion that comes from within to achieve a purpose that you hold dear. By publicly declaring your quest, you will find and attract entire online communities who share your goals, and your passion. And who will rally with you in pursuit of your shared quest.
And that’s when your successful journey really begins.