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.

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.

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.”

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.

Go Humans Go is the rallying cry from Quaker Oats new campaign. The endeavor represents the first time PepsiCo has marketed its entire whole grain product line underneath one centralized theme.  The campaign’s premise is to present oats as a super grain that helps humans harness internal power to do good for themselves, others and their communities. Not only is Quaker Oats a great staple for a healthy diet, it’s seemingly a healthy model for the new media marketing menu.

Why the kudos? First off, the campaign uses what it holds: a solid ownership of oats and a brand icon with more household penetration than that of Aunt Jemima* (I haven’t verified that… but I’m guessing it’s true.). They even gave the little man a brand lift by placing him in modernized situations. His recent graphic adaptation to all packaging is helping consumers recognize the huge breathe of products under the Quaker portfolio. (For instance, did you know that Life cereal was actually part of the Quaker lineup?)  Of course there’s an all encompassing website, and the little man is popping up on Twitter and Facebook. But it’s the affiliation with Bravo’s hottest show, Top Chef (which includes a recipe contest with top-rated judging) that truly boosts awareness and drives traffic to all touch points, truly harnessing the power of social media.

The “Go Human Go” promotion also works in a tie-in with celebrity chef and philanthropist Art Smith that segues nicely into Quakers cause marketing effort. Through a partnership with “Share our Strength,” the “Quaker Go” Project allows you to fight childhood hunger in the United States and even in your community. (Did you know more than 36 million Americans – including 12.6 million kids go hungry?) Quaker will apparently donate 10 servings of a Quaker product per every product you buy (i.e., UPC code you enter) and –– hello all you do good-ers –– the program will even consider giving you a grant to do more good within your own backyard.

It’s a well-balanced program and fitting for today. At a time when individuals and companies are forced to work leaner and meaner, Quaker has harnessed its own power by successfully tapping into these trends to help Americans cut food costs, stay healthy, yet feed a few others.

Looks like the meat is in the grain.
The grain is in you.
Go Humans Go.