Brand Girl™

Last month, on the eve of the launch of Apple’s iPhone 4s, coincidentally, I found myself in a bit of a technical mess. Which soon gave way to a personal hot mess. I was desperate enough for a tech fix that I ended up on the phone with an ex-, a man I will refer to here as my Mac Genius (MG). MG is not just any ex-, goodness, no. This one was the Ex-Beau of Long Ago: a talented photographer who took more pleasure in tinkering with the camera than with his subjects, including me. (I know, hard to imagine.) Eventually, MG was seduced by a force greater than moi, turning his back on photography (and, yeah, me), and allowing himself to be 100% engulfed by Apple—and a guy named Steve. Busted heart and years of drama aside, the residual lingering benefits of the relationship with MG have served me well. That night, MG talked me through––what turned out to be stupidly, yet luckily, nothing more than––a trivial iDisk user error. With the technical chat completed, we began the phase of wrapping up our polite, awkward conversation–the part where we act friendly, but never share exactly what’s new in our lives. Instead, we danced around in the nostalgic safety net (?!) of our shared past: a few common friends, a mutual fondness for Apple, and for a guy named Steve.

Seriously. No conversation between us could end without some mention of Steve Jobs, or Apple, or more specifically, regret about not having bought enough Apple stock. (Read here: my millionth rehashing of how some fool broker advised me back in the early ’90s to buy Restoration Hardware over Apple, MG’s repeated lamenting of the all-too-premature sale of a truckload of Apple shares.) On this particular night, the eve of October 4th, we found ourselves touching on Steve’s stepping down from his CEO role at Apple and wondering what that would mean for the future of the company and its zealots.

We were well aware that Apple has dedicated a good amount of resources to the development of the “Apple University,” an institution tasked with defining the unique essence of Steve and preserving the corporate culture he created. They can talk all they like about the case studies and training programs they developed to instill Steve’s DNA in its candidates, but to them, I still say, “Good luck with that.” Steve is a Man-God: a one-of-a-kind entrepreneur, CEO, and visionary who seemed to be channeling from another plane. Eerily, we also wondered how Apple would eventually handle what appeared to be Steve’s inevitable departure from the physical realm. “A world without Steve?” MG whispered into the phone. “Can you imagine?” I said. Neither one of us could. Instead, we noted the lateness of the hour (He: NYC/Me: LA), said our goodbyes, and ended our conversation on a bit of a low note.

I was not at all prepared for what I saw on my homepage the next afternoon in the middle of a local Starbuck’s. Yes, in the middle of a Starbuck’s, I opened my MacBook Air to a most elegant-looking picture of Steve, a very alive and healthy looking Steve Jobs, featured as though he were some hot new artist launching a new single on iTunes. Product promotion! That was my first thought until my eyes focused on the dates: 1955-2011. There he was—lean, stunning, healthy—and well, gone. I’m not a crier. So it was to my surprise that I was abruptly overtaken by a few loud, uncontrollable sobs, the kind that hide out in the smallest pit of your stomach waiting for odd moments like this. I sat there, crying, a few mascara-stained tear streaks on my cheeks, staring at Steve, my iPhone lighting up with a barrage of incoming texts from MG, the one ex- of mine who could share in my grief. I sat for a few minutes—with the Starbuck’s barista staring openly at me from behind the bar—looking as if I had had my heart broken. Didn’t I?

This was after all, a man who I was in a relationship with for many years. And no, I don’t mean MG. Steve Jobs seduced me long before MG did, when I was barely a college graduate. Actually, it’s more invasive than that. This man left no choice other than to become personally involved with him. His introduction of the Macintosh in the ’80s singlehandedly altered the business of graphic design, and as it turns out, the course of my life. In those days, an aspiring design professional had little choice other than to become an early adopter of Apple. Along with that came the tribulations of living with and through the many waves of Steve’s professional growing pains. In that regard, he truly was like a bad boyfriend, including the part where no expense was spared. He was both mad scientist and guru, and I was, unknowingly, both lab rat and apostle, testing his works and spreading his word—a gospel that was often met with great resistance and skepticism at that time.

As with any new man in his daughter’s life, my dad (A.K.A Accountant) didn’t share in my blind love for Steve, or, as he referred to him, “your buddy Steve.” My buddy Steve was the source of countless battles between me and my PC-loving dad and brothers—about the premium costs of Apple equipment and the merits of “personal” computing. My shouts of “user-friendly” and “intuitive” left them looking as blank and dull as their PC screens. Their shouts of “Compaq clones” and “cheap” left me appalled. Granted, this was the early phase of Apple’s history when Steve was ultra-egocentric, micromanaging and controlling all aspects of user experience to a fault. Remember his insistence on using only the most unique of cables, plugs, and hardware in creating and owning a proprietary product? (That’s a trait I share with my buddy Steve, by the way; I will still rationalize the big bucks for a well-made stiletto or cabernet, any time, any day.)

It didn’t matter what logic Dad and bros offered me. It was too late to convert me to anything PC. Steve was my man, and I was in bed with him and all his gadgets and proprietary cables—for life.

Luckily for us lab rats, Steve—after his infamous exile from Apple in 1985, and a brief stint at NeXT Computers—was reinstated as Apple CEO in 1997. He returned with a greater willingness to play with others, recognizing that world dominance could only happen with a friendlier platform and prices. Voilà! Out of the muck of the 1980s and 1990s came the Apple lotus flower: the iPod. Not only was it a revolutionary platform for monetizing and delivering media of all kinds (music, movies, etc.), it also ushered in a seemingly never-ending marketing ecosystem with all its derivative products: iPhones, iPads, Apple TV, and on and on. It’s almost incomprehensible that all this started with the vision of one man—actually, one God-Man. Steve was so brilliant, even Dad finally came around about him; he’s been an Apple convert now for many years and is now also kicking himself for not having bought Apple stock as heavily as I suggested. Dad now refers to “my buddy Steve,” without any irony, mind you, as “the Thomas Edison of our era.”

Don’t get me wrong. Even with a Man-God, not everything in the relationship was all fun and games. Oh no, sirree. That man broke my neck. Literally. He fed me tools, applications, gizmos of all kinds that allow me to churn out my passions and ideas at warp speed. And boy, did I ever. Like any lab rat, I ate it all up and was glued to my screen like a junkie—spinning out designs and concepts at an hourly rate that was dizzying. Ergonomics and proper posture be damned! Hello, degenerative disc disease! Hello, physical therapy! Every time I feel a crick in my neck, or a tingle in my hand from a dying nerve, I think of my man Steve. The Thomas Edison of my osteopathic-dependent world.

And let’s not forget: He stole my guy, the ex-, MG, too. Ha!

Steve had other lapses, too. I can recall being livid at him after 9/11, when Apple announced the company would be giving away laptops. To aid the families of the victims. Huh? “Like that’s going to help those families!” I screamed. The tragedy took place a few months before Apple opened its New York Soho store, converted from a former Post Office. At that dark time, I saw the store and the giveaway as a purely mercenary and insensitive move—a most inappropriate time to infiltrate the marketplace. I could have slapped Steve silly. Yet in hindsight, I simply recognize it for what it was: My misplaced anger at a man I loved, and a brilliant way for my prophet Steve to spread and show his love.

The New York Times reprinted the eulogy that Steve’s sister Mona Simpson gave about him. Readers, be forewarned, a few tears may ensue. Interesting enough, Mona talks about Steve’s passion for love. How he strove for perfection of love and beauty at all costs. And she’s right; it resonated in everything he did. You see Steve everyday, in every way you navigate life, not just on your desktop—whether you’re surfing the web on your iPad, listening to your iPod, or marveling in the simplicity of MobileMe. Let’s face it, you don’t just “like” Apple, on Facebook or in your real life. You love Apple.

Steve created one of the most unlikely loves of all: one in which a customer develops a lifetime romance with a brand. Once you’re in, you’re in. It’s personal. Given all the outpouring, from fans, media, and customers alike, I was clearly not the only one hit with a jolt to the heart, nor left with a personal scar or story.

It’s no doubt that this Man-God was taken too soon. I can only hope that my Man-God Steve, wherever his spirit may be, is now busy rummaging through the collection of Apple University protégées and scaring the bejesus out of one of them with his visions of what’s next. And in the meantime, we can also be grateful, and possibly envious, that Steve Jobs lived a life in a way that allowed him to love his work and work his love.

It’s not often that you can say the man is bigger than the myth. And in this case, also that the man is bigger than the brand.

If you’re like most people, you’re probably grateful that September 11^th is behind us, for another 360 days. For another year, we can leave behind the corresponding barrage of corporate tributes reminding us of the tragedy—as if we would or could ever forget.

Taking a corporate stance on public issues and events will always be a difficult line for marketers to straddle. Audiences are fickle. Whether you’re being too intrusive, insensitive or outright exploitative, they will be quick to call you out. It can boil down to a case of “you’re damn if you do, and damned if you don’t.” However, when it comes to social issues, if you do choose to do—do it well.

Take two cases in point:

State Farm’s tribute to the heroes of 9/11 is a fine example of a good do. The moving collaboration with Spike Lee touches all the right spots: It features a cover of Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ “Empire State of Mind” performed by school children of the New York City boroughs, woven seamlessly with New York images that are moving without being sentimental. The tribute showcases all things New York: real NY kids, real NY places, an anthemic, tough, and catchy NY-themed song by NY artists, and a respected NY film director. The imagery works because the kids are doing everyday New York things—disembarking from a massive, mustard-yellow school bus; pushing through subway turnstiles; riding the Staten Island Ferry, navigating traffic by bicycle; walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, both majestic and gritty, with the white, protective construction shrouds hanging off its harp-like skeleton; visiting Yankee Stadium and the Bronx; and last but not least, visiting firehouses to thank the heroes who worked there and died for their service and the brave men who still work there and save lives. Making the “Empire State of Mind (Part II)” song from the tribute available for purchased through iTunes with proceeds benefiting the National Fallen Fireman Foundation was another unexpected, good choice.

If the amount of buzz the film has gotten on Facebook and Twitter is any indication, State Farm’s whole campaign seems to have earned high marks from the public. The Illinois-based insurance company produced a tribute that not only inspired warm and fuzzy thoughts about a city and nation rebuilding after loss, but also about the State Farm brand and the company’s understanding of social responsibility. Part of the reason the branding is effective is that this humble and tasteful tribute feels earnest rather than self-congratulatory or canned. And except for the millisecond flash of the company logo at the very end of the segment, literally nothing indicates that State Farm sponsored the segment.

On the flip side, we have a tribute spot by Verizon, a New York-based company that should be subjected to a tongue lashing by Serena Williams (after she’s been called out for a fault or for letting a victory yelp slip out prematurely, of course).

Verizon’s tribute, a compilation of beauty shots of The Statue of Liberty and frolicking children, edited to Josh Groban’s and Charlotte Church’s “The Prayer,” inspired only one thing: tears. Of course it does. The vocals of Josh Groban and Charlotte Church (or Celine Dion, or Andrea Bocelli, for that matter) would make anyone gush like a baby on any given day. That’s the problem. Those tears? Generic tears. Not tears for 9/11. Not for New York. Not for our nation. Not for our fallen heroes. There’s nothing remotely New York about the song, and in combination with equally Hallmark-y sentimental imagery of the Statue of Liberty and nothing else, the segment comes across as heavy-handed and calculated, designed to reduce anyone to a blubbering mess for no particular reason. It feels like some guy in corporate was spending more time thinking about a New York “tribute” that would play well in Peoria than a genuine tribute that would play well in New York.

The whole thing is as short as the State Farm tribute, but the Verizon piece feels longer because it’s the opposite in tone and approach: It feels like an ad intended to make you cry and purchase your brand loyalty through sentiment. It’s shot in black-and-white, though it’s unclear what effect this is supposed to create—grit? elegance? seriousness? The images chosen feel similarly lazy and predictable. Shots of the Statue of Liberty from all angles, interspersed with shots that look like those stock images that come with the picture frames you buy at Target or Kohl’s (a baby’s hand, a parent’s hand, an infant’s wide eyes, kids of all colors smiling, making faces, and peering expectantly up at the regal Lady Liberty).

Consequently, after you’re done blowing your nose, the Verizon spot also leaves you with a big thought bubble over your head that reads: “why?” Did a board member with some free time, access to stock footage, and a fully loaded Mac volunteer to do it? Did a stock video house have a footage sale? Hmm.

The kicker: If memory serves me correctly, Verizon used “The Prayer” in its first 9/11 tribute back in 2002…So: not just tearjerker schmaltz but recycled tearjerker schmaltz to boot.

Thankfully, there was one good part to this otherwise bland and uninspired effort. The end, which came in the form of a dedication: “In tribute to those we lost.  In gratitude to those who served.” Nonetheless, I, along with a majority of folks, was disappointed with Verizon’s “lack of mind” and would have preferred if they had sat this one out.

Am I being too harsh? Watch the two videos back to back…. Harsh? I don’t think so.

I woke up this morning with a strong thought, possibly an usual one for a communications advocate: I was grateful that social media tools were in their infancy a decade ago.

Yes, you can go ahead and slap me. Today’s instant communication platforms might have helped save some of the lives lost during the horrific events of September 11, 2001. And yet still, I’m secretly, somewhat sheepishly relieved to be haunted mostly by the memories of what I witnessed with my own eyes. I’m thankful for what I was spared—tragic, or worse, inane or offensive tweets, texts interrupted mid-message, YouTube videos, manipulated YouTube video mash-ups, endless chatter about tragedy and pain and fear and death, all in real time as the events were still unfolding.

Despite being on the West coast this morning, some 3,000 miles from my beloved home, I can reflect in my own silence as I listen to the chiming of the bells, the pauses of silence, and the reading of the names of all those that died that day. Ringing as loudly and as clearly in my mind, as if I were still sitting in my TriBeCa loft, watching and listening to the ceremony itself pour in from Ground Zero.

So, along with a million other hearts, my heart still aches.
And along with a million others, I will continue to ‘heart’ NY more than ever.

Note: Milton Glaser modified his classic 1975 “I ‘heart’ NY” logo design after the attack in 2001.

A colleague forwarded me this Business Insider article, “Why I Will Never, Ever Hire a ‘Social Media Expert,’” because he thought I would like it. He was right. I liked it, on Facebook, along with 9,000+ others. I also happen to agree with many of the points raised by its author, Peter Shankman. One being that you can’t make a great sandwich if you only know how to pull the bread out of the fridge. Translation: You can’t build a great brand campaign, if you only know how to tweet.

Shankman equates the social media craze to the DotCom saga, Redux:

We’re making the same mistakes that we made during the DotCom era, where everyone thought that just adding the term .com to your corporate logo made you instantly credible. It didn’t. If that’s all you did, you emphasized even more strongly how pathetic your company was. You weren’t “building a new paradigm while shifting alternate ways of focusing customers on the clicks and mortar of an organizational exchange.” No—you were simply an idiot who’d be out of business in six months.

Having owned a brand development studio during the DotCom years, I concur with Shankman. When the Internet first came on the corporate scene, most of my clients were racing to get online. In their defense, there was tremendous pressure to be in and on it––and to do it first. Before anyone really knew what “it” was. In that panicked environment, I found that I could easily charge more for the bells and whistles of programming, where the m.o. of the day was “the splashier, the better.” It was more of a struggle, however, to get clients to pony up for content development (i.e., What’s the message your programming bells and whistles are supporting?). “Creatives” right out of school who could dazzle you with seemingly magical Flash and html skills were coming out of the woodwork. Everyone under 25, it seemed, was a Web master. But these fresh young things held no real understanding of the larger brand picture or of client objectives and how to meet them. Web disaster was more like it.

Today, I see a similar trend. Many design schools are churning out the savvy “social media techie,” but again, this new wave of “experts” have no real handle on traditional marketing. As a result, for all their specialized tech skills, these folks only offer fragmented viral work. Companies are jumping to get Twitter accounts activated and Facebook fan pages up, more often than not with half-baked ideas. Almost every single ad spot on air right now is tagged with a Facebook URL or a Facebook logo. In fact, the only thing that I’m remembering now at the end of all the commercials is “Facebook,” not the brands or products being promoted. The only genius in that equation is Facebook. Mark Zuckerberg has the whole corporate world advertising for his company, and he doesn’t have to spend a dime. The upshot: Clients are once again putting the cart before the horse. And if you think I’m overstating the point, go check out some open online job listings. How is it that companies are offering jobs for “social gurus” at $100K and entry for marketing mavens at $30K?

The hype won’t last forever. Consumers know the real thing when they see it. As we came to understand after the inevitable bust, the DotCom era only offered new ways to communicate and interact with customers. Social media channels and platforms, too, are only offering new outlets for interaction. None of which trumps the pillars of traditional brand building. The real power of social media, if utilized correctly with a fully baked brand plan, is that you can now connect with customers and target audiences with great accuracy—and in real time.

For example, let’s take a look at the early 2010 Domino’s Foursquare promotion that ran in the UK, which was mentioned a lot in the online responses to Shankman’s rant. (Reading through posted comments, by the way, is the equivalent of watching bad reality TV. You can expect a lot of ego, poor grammar, out-of-context verbal bashing.) As a rebuttal to Shankman, one commenter cited the Domino’s Pizza Foursquare promotion as an example of a successful “social media” campaign that used no “classic marketing techniques.” Quick recap of the campaign itself: The promotion basically rewarded folks with free pizza and/or side dishes for checking in on the social web app Foursquare when they went to Domino’s. It’s true that the CEO linked Domino’s 29% gain in profits to its success with Foursquare, along with other social media initiatives. But let’s also not forget the obvious: Rewarding loyal, frequent customers with free or discounted food was hardly new. One might even have called it a classic marketing technique—and given that fast food tends to thrive in a recessionary climate even when you charge for it, the giveaway promotion was blessed from inception. Domino’s recently revised recipes and menu offerings likely contributed to the success of the campaign and overall company performance as well. Ultimately, the campaign was a multi-faceted effort, supported by traditional media tactics and media buys. The winning formula to the Domino’s Foursquare promotion was a well-rounded effort that embodied “classic marketing techniques”: a good product paired with a message that appealed to its audience. The innovative part was that Domino’s utilized a location-based social app as its vehicle for the campaign.

The more relevant Domino’s “example,” to my mind, perhaps because it’s the sort of snafu we see more and more frequently, is the 2009 incident in the U.S.: The pizza chain was faced with a social media-inspired PR crisis when two employees created a less than appetizing video that went viral. The video was viewed over a million times. At first, Domino’s management decided to wait it out silently in hopes that the problem would go away. It didn’t. In fact, Domino’s lack of response further fueled the outrage. Domino’s learned two things quickly. First, nothing online dies on the vine. Second, the only way to control and solve a PR nightmare is to rely on traditional thinking and strategy: You gotta step in and put out the fire. (Duh.) With no social expert onboard, Domino’s management got a crash course in this new medium called social media. And trust me, the company took very deliberate, conscious “classic” steps when moving forward with all promotions after that—including the Foursquare tactic.

So, what’s the bottom line here? That marketing mavens should be paid more? That Shankman should be less hyperbolic? That Domino’s Pizza is today’s big cheese in corporate, social-media circles? How about this: Whether you’re ordering a sandwich, pizza, or a social-media program, going à la carte will likely end up costing you more in the end.

Where is the love? Show me the bling!

In this era of open online forums, in which igniting a media fest has never been faster, easier, or cheaper, it’s always fascinating to see what issue would warrant someone paying thousands of dollars, in this case allegedly $40,000, for a full-page ad/rant printed right smack dab in the middle of The New York Times Sunday newspaper—in the Style section, no less. And, no surprise, it always boils down to the politics of business.

In the NYT ad in question, Mr. Steve Stoute, president of Translation, a marketing firm that essentially brokers sponsorship deals between talents like Jay Z, Eminem, and Lady Gaga, as well as such top corporate brands as McDonald’s and GM, attacked the Grammys’ leadership in an “open letter.” He first criticized the organization’s archaic “peer-based” voting system, which according to Stoute, continuously spurns artists who are currently and culturally relevant by denying them their awards due. Yes, unfortunately, these annual shows do often leave you scratching your head over a call or two, especially when it appears judges are often correcting snubs from prior years. To this point, I can certainly sympathize with Stoute. After all, I have had a recurring twitch since 2000, when the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences (NARAS) and the Grammys awarded the Album of the Year/Pop Vocal win to Steely Dan—passing over many far brighter spots, including Eminem for The Marshall Mathers LP. Irrespective of subjective tastes, what year in pop music were those voters living in?

More poignant to me were Stoute’s implications that the Grammys were, and are, quasi-staged. Referencing this year’s show specifically, he pointed out the “coincidence” of Arcade Fire’s two back-to-back performances. For those of you over 25, Arcade Fire is a Canadian alternative rock band that’s beloved by young hipsters and geeky music critics and bloggers (based on a mere three albums and one EP made since 2004) and that’s sold impressive numbers for an indie sensation produced by an indie record label (Merge). (The band even edged Eminem out of Billboard’s No. 1 album spot with its most recent album last summer.) But let’s be honest: Arcade Fire ain’t Kanye, ain’t Eminem, ain’t Cee Lo, ain’t even Steely Dan. Which is to say that, despite its status as an indie-darling sensation, the band was completely unknown to me and to most of mainstream America until last week. Stoute’s beef was less about that, though, and more about his belief that Grammy performances are planned and canned beforehand to coincide with Grammy wins. Arcade Fire performed its first song—surprise, surprise—right before the Album of the Year award was given out, which—surprise, surprise—the band won, and then—surprise, surprise—the band also happened to be spontaneously ready to perform a second song immediately after the win.

Stoute also attacked the Grammys’ marketing efforts: “Interesting that the Grammys understands cultural relevance when it comes to using Eminem’s, Kanye West’s, or Justin Bieber’s name in the billing to ensure viewership and to deliver the all-too-important ratings for its advertisers.”

The good news for Mr. Stoute is that the Billboard Awards, which are based on actual sales of records, are returning this May after a five-year hiatus. I’m sure many of the aforementioned talents, including Usher protégée Justin Bieber, who was also unfairly panned at the Grammys in Stoute’s estimation, will be properly acknowledged for their marketing prowess as well as command of the popular vote.

The not-so-great news is that the main intent of Stoute’s letter seems to indicate that some of the Grammy nominees, who performed at the expense of their record labels and whose talent and popularity were used to market the event itself and draw in more viewers, had “expectations” to win (bigger), and thereby felt “used.” Well, I get a little less sympathetic here. This seems rather like a Hollywood star bitching about presenting an Oscar on the same night as losing out on one in another category. Sour grapes, anyone? Really, isn’t this awards-show performance stuff the sort of mutual back-scratching that makes our imperfect world of marketing go round and round? Paid or not, brands (and that includes musical talents and related awards shows, currently and culturally relevant or not) piggyback off one another to gain traction. The cost of marketing is exactly that: a cost. And not every expenditure returns on its investment right away. Clinching more immediate concrete bling in the form of a Grammy is certainly a hoot, and yes, it’s good for business, but isn’t having the platform on a national stage, which also, for the record, spikes record sales, an equally just reward, especially since it simultaneously rewards fans with some highly sought after entertainment that’s free? And at some point, isn’t the audience deserving of an ROI, too? Point being, unless you drop the F-bomb—be it Cee Lo Green-style, Melissa Leo-style, or Christian Bale-style—presenting or performing on an awards show is only going to help expand your brand and, in turn, your sales and profits. (And if you do drop the F-bomb, if you do it right and in the right way, in point of fact, if we’re really being honest, it may not only expand your brand and your sales figures, but it may even bring them to unforeseen heights.)

Which brings us back to the $40K. Despite agreeing with some of Stoute’s observations, I couldn’t help but be left with the overriding feeling that that’s a lot of dough to spend on what is, in the end, awards-show kvetching. Spoiler alert: Awards shows and the related voting sometimes blow with the prevailing political winds of that industry, just like everything else. Take heart, Mr. Stoute. Diana Ross and Jimi Hendrix never won Grammys either. And Cary Grant never won an Oscar until he was old and the Academy gave him one of those generic lifetime achievement consolation prizes to compensate for decades of snubbing. Guess what? They all did just fine. Not only that, their brands and audiences are still around, too. Which is more than you can say for Steely Dan.

But it’s a free country, Stoute can spend $40K on whatever he wants if he can afford it, and yes, it’s possible his ad gets my hackles up 1) because it seems petty in these difficult economic times and 2) because I don’t have $40K to spend on that sort of luxurious indulgence.

But hey, that’s the way our imperfect world of marketing rolls. Currently and culturally.

Big Brothers Big Sisters of America (BBBS) is one of those fortunate non-profit brands whose allure matches that of Nike—in that pretty much everyone wants to be seen running with a pair.

For much of its 100 years of service, BBBS has been blessed with an army of volunteers that supply it with the manpower to fuel its programs and enough corporate sponsors to keep its operations flush with cash. However, few sponsoring organizations have been able to escape the ripple effect of the nation’s crippling and crumbling economic disposition over the past few years, and have had to adjust budgets accordingly—with cause marketing efforts being scrutinized, and hit, the hardest. As a result, BBBS, like many charities, has seen a continuing decline in its annual corporate donations. Brand Channel reports, “In 2009, [BBBS] revenue was $278 million, vs. $290 million in 2008. It costs about $1,000 per year to help each child. In 2009 the organization helped 227,000 children, down from 255,000 children the year before.” Consequently, in an attempt to garner more exposure for its need for volunteers and private donations—from the likes of you and me—BBBS has taken its tin cups to the virtual streets via social media platforms with its new “Start Something” advertising concept. The campaign features a subtle plea for donations and volunteers, and loudly encourages existing mentees and mentors to “turn the camera” on themselves to tell their stories (i.e., “starting something big”). “The campaign’s edge,” according to Peter Levine, director of the Center for Information and Research on Civic Learning and Engagement at Tufts University, “is the fact the the ‘Bigs’ and the ‘Littles’ will contributing content. It’s a creative move to empower laypeople, volunteers and kids, to produce advertising media for a large organization.”

Free, positive, viral, word-of-mouth is always appreciated, and it doesn’t take much to get today’s generation to tweet and post. BBBS, like any organization doing business today, is smart to adapt new media into its communications strategy to attract new eyeballs. What remains to be seen, however, is if the new eyeballs they find are attached to the right wallets. Will the costs of these new channels produce the extra cash they need? This unanswered question continues to plague both the profit and non-profit sectors. In the end, participation—a true physical engagement answering the call to action—is what’s needed for success. A Facebook “Like” isn’t something we can count on or cash in on. (Not yet anyway.)

Author Malcolm Gladwell’s October 2010 piece in The New Yorker, “Small Change,” addresses this very issue around social media and expectations for social activism. In a nutshell, he refers to social media connections as “weak ties.” He says, that “…It’s [Social media] terrific at the diffusion of innovation, interdisciplinary collaboration, seamlessly matching up buyers and sellers, and the logistical functions of the dating world. But weak ties seldom lead to high-risk activism.” Needless to say, his essay raised great debate.

So what, if anything, can we take away from this, aside from “a) slow and steady wins the race,” and “b) a drop in the bucket is better than none.” How about this:

c) Social media may be really nothing more than having a “real-time” direct mail piece targeted to an audience. Instead of affixing a wacky golden yellow sticker to a reply postcard to declare interest, your audience is encouraged to visit a link, post a “Like”, and tweet the conversation with others. Finding interested parties is easier, faster, and cheaper. But the hard task remains: Getting them to pull the $$$ trigger for you—ka-ching!—over all the other worthy causes out there. Or as Nike would say, to get them to: “Just do it.”

It being the season of giving, with consumers doing our respective parts for the economy by spending, you’d think that that the businesses would hold up their end of the bargain by putting in the requisite additional customer service time and resources that the holidays, and all that extra consumerism, require. Think again.

Last month, Chase sent me a direct mail piece offering a Continental Airlines Presidential Plus credit card. The low-APR, no-annual fee offer was designed to compensate for privileges lost via Continental’s removal from the American Express Membership Rewards program, which goes into effect as soon as the Continental and United Airlines merger is complete. Eager to sign on to avoid any lapse in travel services, I followed the offer instructions and was directed to a website where a pre-filled online application was supposed to await me. Problem was the mini-site kept rejecting the special invitational code in the mailer. Inconveniently and presumably erroneously, no phone number was attached to the offer, nor did the mini-site include any link for technical assistance—or help of any kind. As of this writing, I should have the credit card in hand. However, I have yet to track down even a number or resource that can help me partake in this exact offer.

Last month, I called Hilton Hotels to reserve one of the many rooms that had been blocked out at a special rate for my brother’s wedding. I called 3o days in advance, as the Hilton instructions directed, but the reservation specialist still told me that the contract reserving that rate had expired, and therefore, was not able to offer me a discount. Both the Hilton agent and I knew that one call to the bride would have cleaned up the error. Rather than saving me the time, the angst, and the few extra dollars, the rep stood firm—no discount. It took me another hour to connect with another agent from Hilton hotel who was willing to walk the walk of the company’s “be hospitable” philosophy and give me the measly though appreciated discount of 20 bucks.

Last month, I switched units in my apartment complex, transferring utilities like Time Warner cable service in the process. Unbeknownst to me, the Time Warner agent treated my simple transfer as new service. I moved and found myself locked into a package that was similar to but not quite the service I previously had—with a new monthly fee that wasn’t quite the same either. I made four phone calls to correct this error. I still await the return of a call from a supervisor that all four representatives had promised. On my fifth try, I finally connected with a rep who had the logic and power to simply fix the situation.

I know, I know. Woe is me. You too have countless similar stories to share. Like me, you probably wonder at moments like these: What the heck happened to good, common-sense, responsive customer service?

The explosion of technology and social media in the past few years presents a gazillion ways to reach customers. Yet it’s never been harder or more labor-intensive to actually connect with customers. (You might want to reference The Future of Advertising by Danielle Sacks in Fast Company Magazine.) That being the case, when you do have direct-dial opportunities with ongoing customers or with potential new ones, shouldn’t those conversation scripts and guidelines be perfected by now? As budgets continue to be tight and marketers are forced to experiment with new, unproven platforms and approaches, fragmentation among media buys feels forgivable, in my opinion. Fragmentation in good, old-fashioned land-line customer service, however, is just plain wrong—especially in brands that have been around the block. A lot of my recent mishaps seem due to poor training. Or no training at all. In either instance, the ensuing, chaotic customer-service mess is probably the result of the high number of experienced managers who have become jobless–collateral damage in the wake of our economic catastrophe—taking all their years of institutional knowledge and customer expertise along with them to the unemployment office. A lot of built-up brands now seem to have an influx of untrained and inexperienced “bodies” manning the trenches, which can make for bad experiences and, ultimately, bad—and potentially forever lost—business.

As we wrap up 2010—a climate of economical uncertainty that’s been the primary hallmark of 2007, 2008, and 2009, and most likely what the chilly landscape of 2011 will resemble as well—I say it’s high time for companies to take retake control where they can. My advice for companies of all sizes is to consider throwing some money internally. Keeping your brand story internally intact through a well-versed, knowledgeable staff is as important as taking your brand story outward with ad messaging and social media programs: Employees at all levels have to be trained to carry your message out, empowered to avoid dead ends, and encouraged and incentivized to always find a happy ending for your customers. There should be no holes in your brand story.

The kicker: It’s not that hard to please customers. And we will remember it. The other day I called American Express to inquire about recent activity. I was pleasantly surprised when the rep extended me a lower APR for being such a good customer. It was a gift. No questions asked. The call left me with a warm and fuzzy thought about Amex. Contrast that with my ongoing saga with Chase and Continental, where, four phone calls in—to redeem an offer extended to me by them, no less—I’m still left holding the bag, with no card in hand. It’s time and money wasted for both myself and the various representatives who I drill (and I do drill) for information. Unlike most other customers, though, I will take the extra step and continue calling (or visit a branch) because I want that card with the low APR, with a waived annual fee. I want my happy ending. Would be nice if someone awaited me on the other end already ready to gift me one.

Happy New Year. May you be well-served and serve well.

For unjustified reasons in my brand eyes, the management at the Gap, the lagging clothing retailer, recently conjured up a new logo and unceremoniously launched it to the world. “Unceremoniously” refers to the fact that there was no launch, no announcement, no PR campaign—just the silent shifting of the old logo guard to the new on the company website. Despite the lack of fanfare, the new logo was not only noticed, but was royally rejected by its virtual visitors. In an attempt to quickly diffuse some of the negativity and confusion circulating in the social media sphere, the Gap retreated and pulled a 180. It invited its “fans” to now give input on a new design, i.e., to ultimately drive its brand. According to AP, “Crowd sourcing the new logo, or allowing fans to help design a new one, was the company’s original solution to the issue of quelling consumer confusion. Marketers are increasingly letting fans help or fully make decisions, including PepsiCo Inc.’s Doritos brand having fans create and vote on Super Bowl commercials. But a logo change left up to the crowd is much more rare.”

This unusual move, even if short-lived, begs the question: What on earth is going on at Planet Gap? And where are its fearless brand leaders?

This is a tell-tell-tale about what is wrong with companies and advertising/marketing today. The internet and its social media applications are tools, not the Holy Grail of marketing. Allowing spectators to help design a new logo works for a controlled and one-time promotion like a charitable event or sweepstakes. But a marketing department that lets fans make decisions in matters that stick reeks of a company that doesn’t have a clue—WTF!—what it’s doing or where it ought to be going. How are you supposed to build or maintain a brand when you’re illustrating that you don’t know how to lead? Relinquishing power and creative control to win some more Facebook “Likes” does not make a good strategy. In fact, it’s no strategy at all.

Marka Hansen, president of Gap North America, rationalizes the company’s decision making in her defensive Huffington Post entry. Using phrases like “contemporary and current” to stick up for the new design, she argues that the Gap needed a revised logo that was more reflective of current trends in the company’s recent buying decisions. Which sort of sounds like code for “We think a new logo will boost our sluggish sales.” Even if that were the case—and that’s debatable—unfortunately, the new logo looked more appropriate for the launch of a new tech company.

It certainly didn’t suit the next rendition of the Gap, which has been fashionably tied to a unique logo that’s worked for well over 20 years. The PMS blue square containing its moniker in classic serif letters and dropout type is a trademark recognized worldwide across the spectrum of consumer brands. Revising this logo is a square opportunity to embrace and build upon judiciously and thoughtfully, not to easily or quickly dismiss or to solve impulsively via a virtual public open mike.

The Gap blunder feels reminiscent of the Coca-Cola Company’s launch of “New Coke” in 1985. Like the Gap, in an overzealous attempt to create a quick buzz around a brand that was perceived internally as dormant, Coca-Cola put a spin on the “original” soft-drink recipe, one that was geared to making it taste more like Pepsi, of all things. As with the new Gap logo, the new recipe and product was a bust, and New Coke was pulled, too. The company hadn’t counted on the depth of the connection its audience had to the “original” Coke formula.

For those of you who think that New Coke was a fluke aberration specific to that brand’s formula and/or that Coke drinkers are just overly sensitive—or for those Pepsi loyalists out there—remember Pepsi Clear (AKA Crystal Pepsi)? That 1992 Pepsi product flop, which lasted a year, taught the PepsiCo folks the obvious: that removing two of the biggest ingredient draws from its flagship product—the color and the caffeine—was a bad idea. Duh.

The first lesson here: When a change is needed, the world of social media doesn’t allow for operating in a vacuum. Given the possible ramifications, as brand catalysts and marketing mavens, schooled both before and well beyond Social Media 101, we would never think to force feed anything on an audience without priming these consumers first. By test-marketing new prototypes to a fault, we did our homework and were respectful of dismantling or disrupting any emotional or visual brand bonds and loyalties. Marka Hansen suggests in her blog post that the Gap needed to “evolve.” Fine. But if so, and one tactic was a logo change, what Marka and her team failed to remember was that it’s also a marketer’s job to bring its audience along for the journey. Crowd-sourcing is a tool that should help with transitions and testing. It should not, however, trump or replace traditional pillars of brand building (or—ahem—branding professionals).

The truly staggering question though is why the Gap felt the need to concentrate its energy on a branding makeover it didn’t need. We’re in a down economy: People are shopping “down” these days, in all retail products. They’re looking more to the moderately priced “Gaps” of the fashion world to fill some voids in their closets in an economically sensible way. In this frugal environment, the Gap, an icon of brand leadership and fashionable thrift, should be able to strut, shine, and outfit us all—not to be scrutinized, second-guessed, or to say they’re sorry for being who and what they are. They needed to tap into what they do well, not hide it behind a new, ineffective logo.

All the “old” companies that have built a legacy, tried and true, have built their brands on having cojones—and a big set at that. The new young talent taking office seem to have zero confidence in their tactics, no understanding of the market they’re catering to, and no capacity to use simple common sense, a triumvirate of flaws that simply creates disaster—and bad logos.

Which brings me to Lesson #2. As my father, a Coca-Cola aficionado, would often remind me when I was frivolously campaigning for something new: Sweetheart, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Months ago, I was out with a boy. A Democrat. Actually, an “Obamacrat.” Like many Obama worshippers, especially ones blessed with superb litigating skills, he couldn’t help but be fanatical in his adoration for his leader’s good words. In an attempt to turn our “spirited” session into less of a “sermon,” and more of an “exchange” among friends, I exercised my first right. I grabbed his martini, his tie, and offered up an opinion that went something like this: The man has plenty of raw talent, deep pockets, and a well-admired wife. However, it’s a shame he’s likely to be a one-term prez. My date took that remark about as well as True Blood‘s Sookie Stackhouse would have tolerated a stake being pierced through Bill Compton’s heart. Now, I have been deposed once or twice before. Never before in a Ritz Carlton bar, however, nor by an obsessed creature seeking my blood. The night ended rather abruptly as the Monstercrat went on to accuse me of not even knowing my “own polling district,” thereby making it personal.

My polling district. Therein, my friend, lies part of President Obama’s brand problem.

It’s not about the polling districts. Though Obama’s branding gurus are acting like it is. It’s not about him either. It’s about him being the President of “us,” as in the United States. While still trying to brand himself as somehow separate from the office, and therefore, separate from the country he’s leading.

Most people are attributing President Obama’s PR difficulties to the wrong issues. Of late, he and his family have been subjected to a lot of flack—mostly for exercising liberties, perks, and entitlements that come along with being the biggest cheese in our land. Despite all the negative media spin, I don’t necessarily fault Michelle for sashaying thru Spain this summer with Sasha and Co. (Be honest. In her shoes, you would have probably taken exactly this kind of siesta, too.) Is it bad that the President favors taking meetings out of the office and onto the golf course? C’mon, we all know great aha‘s happen when tooling around the Vineyard. Nope, no qualms with that either.

However, last month, at a presidential event at the University of Texas, our elected, bi-partisan king showed up for work bearing a very democratic Obama campaign logo—with no presidential eagle seal to be found. Hello, Houston, we have a problem. One liberty the President and his marketing team should not be taking is mucking around with the iconography of the United States. In the recent redesign of the Oval Office, I was relieved to see that the new custom-made carpet with its presidential quotes still carried the Presidential Seal. Marketing tactics are in place, but they seem to involve blurring boundaries where, to my mind, there are definite lines.

Again. It’s not about him. It’s about being the President of “us,” as in the United States.

Channeling Bill Maher, I’m offering up two new rules for your marketing consideration, Mr. Obama:

1- There’s a reason Advertising Age named you “Marketer of the Year” in 2008. You ran a brilliant marketing campaign. You sold us on “Yes we can” and a pretty snazzy logo. Well, it’s now 2010, you’ve won the election and, in fact, are President of the United States. Point being: When you were asked to check your personal BlackBerry at the door, you should also have checked in your campaign trail logo! You don’t get to use your “Brand Obama” logo on the job—except when hanging out with the likes of Anna Wintour. How about you and your award-winning marketing team start throwing some marketing magic into the wings of the eagle and revitalize U.S, the U.S. brand? Your staff may be thinking of re-election—as well they should—but so long as you’re in that office, a huge part of your “brand” is the country and how you’re running it. Your marketing should reflect that.

2- I’ve heard all the crap from Dan Pfeiffer, the White House Communications Director: “Given the difficulty of reaching people in this hyperactive media environment, we look for opportunities to reach people in environments that are not traditional forums for political newsmakers.” Yeah, yeah. But please Mr. President, stay off The View. Send Michelle. I’m glad it’s a show your wife watches, but if Michelle can make it to Spain, she can certainly find her way to Barbara Walters’ lovely studio set. Stop playing it safe. Stop campaigning. If this were a reality show, I would vote you off for being a wuss. Go spend some time with the boys over at Meet the Press, and let’s see you break a sweat, Mr. President—somewhere other than the golf course or the basketball court.

One last word to my beloved Obamacrat: For the record, I’m a registered Republican, currently in NYC, District number 8. However, I also switch party lines all the time. If Obama’s election (and George W. Bush’s for that matter) taught us anything, it’s that you can make no assumptions about anyone, no matter what their polling district stats say. Now that I have migrated to the City of Angels, it seems right to re-consider my party status, so I have. Although a miniscule speck of a political minority in the state of California, I’m still planning on staying Republican. Sorry, buddy. It could even just be a branding thing. What can I say? Just never been a big fan of the ass…

The universe has an incredible sense of humor. And at one time or another, we have all experienced being the butt end of that kind of cosmic joke. Like when you rocked your hips in a victory dance after realizing you weren’t ticketed for your well-expired city parking meter, only to be rocked to the core moments later, when you discovered the car door was swiped. Or when you willed the rarely seen, single, and appropriately aged potential suitor, who took your digits at a recent LACMA event, to call you? And he does call. But during the conversation, he graciously asks if he should “Facebook” your twenty-something companion from that evening. What about the time your firm spent billions of dollars over a decade to create a brand image that carefully positioned itself within the energy sector as forward-thinking, environmentally-concerned, and driven—only to wake up to find itself directly linked to an oil spill. And not just any drip. No, your firm is now allegedly responsible for the “largest marine oil spill in the history of the petroleum industry,” the one that took four months to contain, and not before pumping billions of gallons of the crude stuff into U.S. waters, further devastating an already challenged eco-system. An eco-system that you sought to protect. Barrels of laughter.

To say BP (British Petroleum) has an image problem is an understatement. The news is reporting that to help offset plummeting sales at the pumps and lessen mounting disapproval with the general population, several owners of BP-branded gas stations are calling for a “name change” or in lieu of that, a return to the comparatively untarnished Amoco name.

Here’s the back story, which is full of delicious ironies: BP bought Amoco in 1998 and began the conversion of Amoco stations to “BP”-branded ones in 2001. At the same time, the company launched a new branding campaign, a charge led by the tagline “Beyond Petroleum.” (I know. You can’t make this stuff up, can you?) The tagline stayed in use until the present day—it’s a good line, and the company likely got a lot of mileage out of it—but the PR department must be cringing about it now.

The paradoxes don’t end with the tagline, either. As part of the effort to promote its new eco-friendly mantra, pre-spill BP vested a considerable amount of resources toward eco-focused projects—not only its stylish, green and yellow sunflower logo, but also research and future technologies. One consumer-oriented tangible was the 2007 creation of BP’s Helios House, a LEED-certified gas station right here in Los Angeles, coincidentally located a few minutes away from where I sit. According to one member involved on the project, brand daddy Brian Collins, “green destinations” like Helios House were designed to “provoke discussion,” and ultimately, to be reproduced throughout the country. “On the one hand people want to reduce the amount of energy we spend, but are ambivalent when it comes to the freedom they enjoy with automobiles. So we decided to go to the heart of the paradox,” he says. The project has yet to gain momentum, possibly because the inherent ironies in “the heart of the paradox” were either too much for or perhaps lost on American gas consumers: The “green” Helios House structure makes use of recycled materials, wood, solar panels, plants, and any number of other conservation-oriented techniques (i.e., it’s a physical branding campaign that screams, “We’re helping the environment!”), but at the end of the day, it’s a gas station, still pumping and selling good old non-eco-friendly gasoline.

So: When do you stop refilling the brand tank? I tell clients that creating and managing a brand is like choosing to birth and raise a child. You nurture the child as best you can, and when it does something wrong (even if it’s hugely detrimental to society), you don’t banish them immediately into exile. After all, abandonment is considered a crime in most states. Hopefully, you’re a parent who’s inclined to counsel that child to do what’s right: a) Fess up to a situation (be honest), b) say your sorry (take the blame), and c) make restitution (clean up the spill). If you’re running a semi-healthy household, in exchange for doing what’s right, at some point, that child will most likely be forgiven (and get to stay in business).

All this to say, another BP name shift or BP making a U-turn on any of its brand map roads would be money wasted on addressing a short-term issue. The main task at hand is fixing the actual problem. As BP continues its campaign to clean up the residual damage of the spill itself—making it right—its brand will slowly right itself, too. In short, the company execs need to stop worrying about how BP looks or sounds, or whether people like them or believe their branding anymore, and spend more time walking the walk, even when the road ahead is hard and long. The New York Times ran a wonderful piece in last week’s Sunday Business section that addresses recent PR missteps, and one quote in particular sums up the BP conundrum best: “It’s the height of arrogance to assume that in the middle of a crisis the public yearns for chestnuts of wisdom from people they want to kill. The goal is not to get people not to hate them. It’s to get people to hate them less.”

In the meantime, however, just like the BP stock, sales will continue to ride a slippery slope. BP will remain a poster child for hypocrisy for quite some time, and folks in the know will snicker at the current ramp-up of ad dollars being spent to pump up the Arco brand, a BP-owned company. Some BP branded station owners with expiring contracts will jump ship, bypassing a renewal in some form of protest and choosing competitors instead. And many American gas consumers will do the same at the gas pump. Myself included. These days, I can’t help but pass Helios House by, and I feel drawn to patronize a neighboring Exxon Mobile to fill up the Bimmer. The same Exxon Mobile that was responsible for the “first” largest oil spill of all time––yet ironically, still lives.