State of the Brand from Ecra Creative Group :: by Jason Voiovich

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

The milk mustache is just the beginning.

Behind the endless “got milk?” T-shirts and bumper stickers, and beyond countless celebrities sporting milk mustaches, exists a powerful dairy promotional apparatus. Of course, that’s not much of a surprise - the upper Midwest is the nation’s leading dairy region. But seeing tangible evidence of the machine’s muscle proved, nonetheless, a bit jarring.

A couple of weeks ago, I was able to get my hands on the “Dairy Sports Nutrition Toolkit” presented to school nutritionists at their annual get-together in St. Cloud (not nefariously, of course; I happen to have a “connection” in the audience - and even so, the information was by no means confidential, just enlightening).

It was a #486W plain white Smead folder stuffed full of the ordinary promotional jibber-jabber. A color brochure touting the “New Look of School Milk” - flavored to entice kids who would otherwise shun milk in favor of the latest energy drink or sports concoction. A cute milk-bottle cutout of helpful (read: promoting milk and dairy) websites. A small stack of printouts highlighting the benefits of whey protein. For anyone who plays the channel marketing game, this is normal stuff.

The striking pieces were the two discreet fliers promoting “chocolate milk” as a superior sports recovery drink.

Huh?

Clearly, I must have nodded off during that lecture in sports physiology.

But here on the page was the new evidence.

A study in the “International Journal of Sports Nutrition and Exercise Metabolism” found cyclists consuming low-fat chocolate milk were able to ride as long or longer than cyclists drinking traditional sports drinks.

An additional study found that whey protein (found naturally in milk) could lead to bigger, stronger muscles.

The third citation excerpted an article from the “American Journal of Clinical Nutrition” examining the positive affects of drinking milk after heavy weightlifting. Apparently, milk helped burn fat and build more muscle than other drinks.

There was more, but I think you get the point.

Presented with this information, we could - if we wanted to - begin to ask some critical questions (not critical in the negative sense, but rather critical in the academic sense): What did the control group look like? Does the study methodology support a reasonable expectation of reliability in the findings? What information are we not seeing in the one paragraph write up? Who paid for the study?

But while valid, these questions miss the larger point.

What do any of the above conclusions have to do with elementary, middle, and high school kids drinking milk during lunch?

And therein lies the real question. To many observers of the presentation, this was the most “authoritative” segment - it was backed up with real “data”, and not just “promotional” claims. The journals cited were not Science or Nature, but that was hardly the point. This is the classic research shell game: Use hard “numbers” to shift attention - to borrow credibility as it were - from a presumably accurate (albeit unwarranted) argument to promote a particular point of view. In this case: That milk is good for you, and scientifically better than the average sports drink.

I don’t fault the dairy council from presenting information that promotes their position and their products. That’s their job. To do otherwise would be a fiduciary breach with those who contribute to the fund. And the image of milk has been pummeled by sports drink bottlers.

But this is different, isn’t it? This is sophisticated channel marketing that directly impacts school-age kids - your kids - and their meals at school.

To be fair, I can think of worse things to promote to school nutritionists than the benefits of milk and dairy, even if the evidence is a bit obtuse. (Also, members of the audience in this case have heard more than their fair share of “food pitches”, and are pretty savvy consumers of information.)

But answer me this: Would you feel the same way if the information presented instead touted the benefits of Coca-Cola products? Or M&M Mars? Or Pizza Hut?

And if you think the dairy folks are good at marketing…

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

I do not hate Wal-Mart.

The title to this week’s essay certainly belies a distinct point of view regarding the company’s recent logo change, but it does not come from a place of elitist indignation or new age, anti-consumerist, big box angst.

In fact, I stand in humility and awe at what Wal-Mart has been able to accomplish.

Born not of New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago, Wal-Mart’s modest beginnings in rural Arkansas keep the company grounded. At its core, it believes in the power of the average family to make it successful.

Instead of an aggressive growth plan, venture capitalists, and slick marketing, Wal-Mart stuck with its founder’s values: Thrift, competitiveness, and old-fashioned customer service.

Instead of seeding consumer taste with new fashions, new trends, and new ways of thinking, Wal-Mart found creative ways to give people exactly what they wanted: pretty good stuff at rock bottom prices.

Instead of hiring expensive consultants, Wal-Mart literally invented modern distribution efficiency through trial and error. (I have seen their distribution center in Menomonie, Wisconsin first hand. There are no adjectives to describe how impressive it is.)

One could make articulate - and in many cases accurate - arguments that Wal-Mart’s success has not been a good thing. That the company put main street America out of business. That the company is too big, too wealthy, and controls too much. That the company simply peddles cheap junk, creating a feeding frenzy of consumerism that ruins the financial viability of those people least able to control themselves. That the company forces its suppliers into draconian terms to feed an insatiable lust for lower prices.

Perhaps that’s true. But personally, it sounds like a good deal of hooey.

But that is precisely why the change to their visual identity is so perplexing.

Wal-Mart is successful because it is - authentically - what it says it is: A pure commerce machine. Something uniquely American in concept, and a vision of superiority in retailing the world over.

What concerns me about the company’s logo change (and recent tagline change as well) is that the iconic company has drifted from its roots.

According to the company: “This update to the logo is simply a reflection of the refresh taking place inside our stores and our renewed sense of purpose to help people save money so they can live better.”

The company goes on to remind us that Wal-Mart has “freshened” its logo several times over its history, pointing to a synopsis on its website:
http://walmartstores.com/AboutUs/8412.aspx

A 129-word press release? A freshening?

That’s laughable.

A glance at the visuals from even a casual observer would immediately betray a major change in visual strategy. The previous logo’s “star” was a clear, American symbol of pride and success - reinforced by a bold blue, white, and red color scheme in all promotional materials. It spoke to the traditional patriotic values of the company’s core target audience. The bold font is a non-nonsense reflection of Sam Walton’s vision: visible at a distance, as well as functional and compact for all forms of store signage.

The new logo employs a more “symbolic” star, offset to the right of the type, to capture the same message. But instead of a classic interpretation, the reborn star functions more like an asterisk at the end of the type. It almost begs explanation. As if the Wal-Mart logo - or the company itself - needs some sort of clarification. Additionally, the new semi-serif font choice attempts to add a certain sophistication to the visual treatment - as does the lightening of blue and red (to more of a deep powder blue and bright orange) - but ends up weakening the overall arrangement.

Perhaps the logo change was meant to mark a change in Wal-Mart’s customer base. Perhaps it was a nod to the company’s entry into the grocery market. Perhaps it is a reflection of the company’s growing international presence.

Perhaps.

But here is my guess. A visual change of this magnitude is a major undertaking for any company, and a colossal one for Wal-Mart. The cost of the transition will likely exceed nine figures. Given that, and the distinct visual transition, as well as the company’s cautious statement, I would read a certain amount of boardroom consternation. I’ll bet the whole team wasn’t on board with this move. I’ll bet more than a few thought it was a mistake.

To me, this is a classic case of not leaving well enough alone.

After seeing growth its growth stabilize over the last decade, and Target emerge as a tough competitor with a distinctly “stylish” approach, you can understand the pressure to keep up the torrid pace of shareholder growth.

But Wal-Mart never tried to be, nor tried to become, anyone else. That is what made it successful. That’s not to say the company will never (or does not) need to evolve, but this move paints a big orange asterisk on some deep underlying issues.

To that point, let’s look back. It’s easy to forget that the original company at the heart of the following quip, “If you can’t buy it at Wal-Mart, you don’t need it”, was not Wal-Mart, but Sears. Sears used to dominate. Its catalog was the staple of every home in America. They were the quintessential do-it-all.

Then they lost their way. The visuals again tell the story. When you review the visual history of the Sears brand, you’ll see exactly where that happened. The company transitioned from “strong” and “stable” to “stylish” and the “softer side of Sears”. It worked for a while. But in the end no one bought it. It just wasn’t true. Now the company is part of K-mart - a depressing epithet to an American icon.

Put very simply, whether you like the visual treatment of the Wal-Mart logo or not, it is no longer “true”. And that authenticity is the essence of any brand. And, I am afraid, the beginning of its undoing.

I am not sure Sam Walton would have approved.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

Apparently, dolls can fight dirty.

Designer Carter Bryant came up with the original concept idea for a new line of urban, hip, and flirty dolls sometime in the late 1990s. In 2001, MGA Entertainment picked up the line, christened them “Bratz”, and launched a marketing phenomenon.

Anyone with young girls at home knows the rest of that story.

But there was a bit of a legal problem. During the time Bryant came up with the designs, he was under contract with Mattel - the owner of the uber-successful Barbie doll franchise.

Anyone with even a cursory knowledge of intellectual property and contract rights can guess the rest of this story.

A few weeks ago, a California court ruled in Mattel’s favor.

So what happens now? From a branding perspective, it is what has already happened that is significant for Mattel. But more on that in a moment. Understanding the legal ramifications of the court’s decision will provide some needed context.

For that, I contacted Adam Soffer - an IP law specialist at local boutique Soffer Charbonnet.

Typically, he said, the court has two options. First, the court could issue an injunction, essentially stopping sales of the infringing product. That could happen, but it’s tough. Pulling offending product off the shelves involves a higher burden of proof than the second option: Awarding monetary damages. Of course, the court could do both. That is yet to be seen.

On its surface, the “money” option appears the easiest path, until you start to think about how you come up with a number. The court has to determine past damage - in other words, what profits would Mattel have earned had Bratz not been on the market - plus profits the line earned above and beyond aforedetermined cannibalized profits. Needless to say, that gets complicated. Expert witnesses will need to determine the extent to which Bratz sales impacted Barbie sales. What is the total market size? What were the two lines’ respective market share? What do the trendlines look like? Very complicated.

Finally, (unless an agreement has been reached to this effect) the court must also determine future damages. In other words, what will Bratz earn into the future that Mattel - as part-owner of the IP - has a right to. Probably some percentage of earnings. Even more complicated.

And just when I thought I had a handle on this one, Adam brought up the inherent problem with “simple” IP. Intellectual property such as computers, cell phones, or heart monitors are what is called “complex” IP. In other words, you can’t just “look at it” and make a reasonable argument that come up with that unique idea out of thin air. But dolls are different. You could make the claim (and doubtless MGA tried) that Bryant simply “thought it up on his own”. Had it not been for the contract employment issue, they likely could have won. Not that uncommon, Adam says.

A brief warning (Adam’s words, not mine): IP, employment, and contract cases - like this one - are always complicated. This one is no different. It should go without saying that if you find yourself or your company in any sort of similar situation, don’t try this at home. Seek professional legal advice.

But as I mentioned earlier, whatever the court determines, the marketing damage already has been done.

To find out why, we need to ask ourselves a couple of important questions.

First, what made Bratz so successful? And second, how was this new product able to outflank the 50-year veteran Barbie so easily?

A quick comparison between the two dolls begins the discussion. Barbie is a classic. She has done it all and “been” it all. For many young girls of that generation, Barbie was the epitome of style and beauty. But “hip” and “modern”? No. That’s where Bratz comes in. While many commentators used to lament that Barbie dolls were a bit - shall we say tactfully - out of proportion, Bratz dolls instead feature oversized heads, expressively painted eyes, and luscious lips. They are dressed in the latest urban streetwear. They are flirty, gritty, and shall we say, bratty.

Now, let’s take a look now a the brand focal point - the emotional connection the audience has with the product. For girls (not collectors - they are a different animal), the emotional anchor to Barbie is, well, Barbie herself. Yes, she has “friends”, but Barbie is the singular star of the show. Bratz dolls, by contrast, have no single focal point. That means a young girl can find the doll she most identifies with and still remain “in the club” of Bratz fans among her peers.

And did we mention “identification”? This is the most damning criticism of the Barbie franchise. While many attempts have been made to “multi-culturalize” Barbie dolls, for all intents and purposes, the popular image of Barbie comes in one color: White. Caucasian. I have news for Mattel. The latest estimates put non-Hispanic Caucasians at a minority of the US population by 2042. By contrast, Bratz launched as an ethnically diverse mix of girls - a much better reflection of her target market and much better positioned into the future. In simple terms, that means a girl can find a doll who looks like her. That’s a pretty powerful emotional hook, and a key to the success of the Bratz line.

All of that rationale comes down to this: Whether their moms approve of exposed navel rings or not, girls like Bratz dolls. Better than they like Barbie dolls. To the tune of half a billion dollars per year for Bratz and a 21 percent decline for Barbie in 2007.

It is pretty clear: Mattel got caught sleeping. And that’s not too surprising; with a 50-year undisputed queen of dolls in the product line, why would you listen to an upstart designer with a gritty, multi-ethnic, urban concept?

But as it happens so many times in the marketplace, the sleeping giant was caught off guard. In less than a decade, Barbie has been made largely irrelevant - old, stodgy, and completely repositioned out of the top spot.

It seems like Barbie has finally started to look her age.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

When you think of illicit performance enhancement in sports, what comes to mind?

Pro baseball, certainly. Plenty of “enhancement” there. Pro football? Sure. Olympic sports? Of course; it’s hard not to notice the occasional byline about an expelled athlete in the lead up to the Beijing games.

But one sport has them all beat: Professional cycling. The guys in the bright tights and fast bikes.

In fact, public perception of the sport is so linked to doping, even the recently completed Tour de France couldn’t overshadow an undercurrent of doping allegations. (Can you even name who won this year? Can you remember the doping stories? Enough said.)

[A word about semantics. The terms "doping" and "steroids" essentially refer to the same practice - performance enhancement - only with a different focus. "Doping" typically refers to enhancement in endurance sports - cycling, running, etc. Doping compounds help the body transfer oxygen to the blood, extending normal endurance thresholds. "Steroids" typically refers to enhancement in strength sports - football, baseball, etc - where bulk strength is key. Steroids allow muscles to recover from punishing workouts faster. The quicker the recovery, the faster you get back into the gym.]

But wait a second. Major League Baseball had congressional hearings. There was a time last year that you couldn’t read the sports page without a baseball steroid allegation. There was even the damning Mitchell report, naming the names of some of today’s (and yesterday’s) biggest stars.

Yes, all of that is true. But what about today? As soon as new storylines emerge, steroid allegations fade into the background. Yes, there is new “testing” in baseball, but the player’s union fights hard to keep results out of the public eye. And they seem to know what they are doing. They know, from a public relations perspective, steroid allegations are a “flash in the pan” crisis: High intensity, but little staying power. Just be patient, they counsel players, and you can get back to the business of earning endorsements.

So that got me thinking, why do performance enhancement allegations seem to dog professional cycling like they do no other sport? It doesn’t seem fair.

My first thought was the international focus of the sport, versus a primarily American perspective for baseball and football.

That could be part of it. International pressure certainly shines an intense spotlight on competition. In American sports, the outcome prevails. If a player “juiced”, but went on to win it all, Americans tend to remember (and reward - like it or not - with glory, endorsements, and hard cash) the latter. The same can’t be said on the international stage. Competition and fair play hold a stronger procedural footing.

But even there, the logic did not seem to add up.

In the Olympics, the international stage on which many might claim doping and steroid use is rampant, one Olympic gold medal tear-jerker story pushes all of those allegations out of the public eye.

So the question remains. What is it about pro cycling that can’t shake its bad vibe?

Being at a bit of a loss, I called on local road cycling guru Blayne Puklich of excelcycle. What he said surprised me.

I came to learn that professional cycling actually wants it this way. Riders see it as a badge of honor that their sport places so much emphasis on cleaning up its act. Average riders talk about doping allegations, sure, and they realize that most people outside the sport must think all pro riders juice, but they don’t care. They know the truth.

Blayne reminded me of American Tour de France winner Floyd Landis (remember him?). After he was caught doping (allegedly), pro cycling not only stripped his title, but also banned him from the sport for two years.

In pro baseball, that would be the equivalent of catching Barry Bonds using steroids (allegedly), expunging his home run record, and banning him from play for two years. Could you see that happening?

Even Lance Armstrong, pro cycling’s greatest American hero in a generation, has been trailed incessantly by doping allegations. They won’t even leave him alone.

Then it occurred to me: Pro cycling is bringing this on themselves. On purpose. Let me explain.

Pro cycling is taking the long view. It wants to be seen as pure sport. To do that, it needs to take illegal performance enhancement seriously. And the only way to be serious is to crack down hard. No games of chicken. No riders’ unions. No fooling around. If you are caught, you are tainted, and you are out.

And if you think about it, this makes sense. Professional sports have been slipping more and more into the “entertainment” category for the past two decades. League marketers haven’t failed to catch the intense popularity, ratings, and money-making ability of pseudo-sports like the WWE. If you’ve noticed, they’ve worked in similar tactical elements. Personal drama. Love triangles. Emotional backstories.

While pro sports in the United States haven’t quite sold their soul, they are on a very slippery slope. If they are not careful, they will lose their grounding in reality, and become yet another entertainment phenomenon to rise and fall with the fickle tide of public tastes.

Now think about what pro cycling is doing. They might be taking it on the chin now, but in 10 years, the sport’s image will turn around. By contrast, the image of other pro sports is likely to deteriorate.

Branding is all about authenticity - in this case authenticity in pure competition - and cycling will have it. The others won’t. And that’s a truth they will be able to build a successful business model on.

By the way. Spanish rider Carlos Sastre won to ‘08 tour. Clean.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

Perhaps it is just poor timing.

Just as the word ’sub-prime’ became part of the everyday vernacular, just as mortgage industry giants fell, and just as the Federal Reserve wrested new authority over the market, we have a new mortgage product on the scene.

It is called a ‘reverse mortgage’, and it is not really that new.

In the days of heady profits and rapidly escalating home values, no one saw much value in selling them. No wonder, really. Reverse mortgages are reasonably complicated financial instruments. By statute, they apply only to a narrow segment of the population. They were simply too much trouble. But that has changed.

For a primer, I tapped Tony Weick, the resident expert on reverse mortgage products at Bell Mortgage.

Tony reminded me reverse mortgages are not, in and of themselves, ‘good’ or ‘bad’ products. Just like FHA, Jumbo, VA, and sub-prime, reverse products fit certain buyers under certain circumstances.

In short, a reverse mortgage is exactly what it sounds like. Instead of you making payments to the bank to earn back the equity it owns, the bank pays you each month to earn the equity you own.

A few caveats (aren’t there always?): Reverse mortgages are only available to homeowners aged 62 and over who own - or mostly own - their own property. Also, homeowners cannot ‘buy into’ a reverse mortgage; it must be a refinance (although just-signed legislation may ease some of that burden). Finally, buyers must complete HUD-authorized coaching session before they are allowed to begin the process. On the surface, smart precautions.

On the plus side, reverse mortgages allows homeowners to stay in their home and access its equity without selling the home outright. Another major bonus, reverse mortgages are non-recourse annuities. Essentially, you and the bank enter into a sort of grim game of chicken. Based on your age, the bank determines your life expectancy, and uses that number to set a maximum dollar payout and monthly payment. If you live past your life expectancy, you win. The bank must continue paying you each month, even if the amount they pay goes beyond the value of the home itself. In the end, they are left holding the bag. But if you expire early, you also “win” (or more specifically, your estate “wins”). The bank has only the lien on your property for the amount it paid out to that point. In other words, the game is loaded in your favor.

Not bad.

So what does the bank get?

For one, the up-front fees are a bit heftier than ‘forward mortgages’ (Tony’s word, not mine). Yes, you never make a payment, but that means the interest and fees capitalize, essentially limiting the total amount you could access. In other words, you (or your estate) could feasibly get more money out of your home if you waited it out (read: you died) or sold it early (read: move into another home/assisted living arrangement/etc). Of course, all this depends on your tax situation.

Tracking so far?

If not, I don’t blame you.

Tony and I spent 45 minutes on the phone working through the details. Any errors or omissions in the above description are mine, not his. And believe me, there are a lot more details.

And therein lies the issue.

To get good at reverse mortgages - from a professional’s perspective - takes time, patience, and training. Bell takes it pretty seriously. As do many other organizations. But can you envision a scenario in which loan officers looking to survive in today’s market will cut corners to open up this potentially lucrative market? I can.

The image of a few bad apples in the market, however, is nothing compared to risk when you begin to market to seniors.

That game is fraught with peril.

First, you need to spend considerable energy building trust. That takes time and money. And while there may be many more seniors in the coming years given demographic changes, they also are savvier about money than at any point in history. Add to the mix involved and financially adept adult children, along with the emotionally charged inheritance/family issues they bring, and you have an unrivaled marketing challenge.

More vexing, however, is the risk the industry takes the more it promotes this product. Coming off the heals of the sub-prime mess, mortgage players always could claim, “we should not have lent to unqualified buyers, but hey, they lied on their applications too.”

Not so when marketing a financial product to seniors.

You have what I call the “swampland in the Sunshine state” image problem. Whether the industry likes it or not, consumers have a long memory of real estate scams targeting seniors throughout the 1970s and 80s. Fair or not, as a financial product for seniors, reverse mortgages have been greeted with more than a healthy dose of skepticism.

Senior Lending Network (as seen on TV), among many others as of late, is running up against this problem. Heavily promoting reverse mortgage products, it places its entire industry at risk if word gets around that seniors are getting the short end of the stick.

This time, there would be no shared blame. The public would consider itself fooled twice, and would likely not take kindly to the charge of “bilking grandma out of her home”.

Talk about an emotional pressure cooker.

Mortgage types had best tread very carefully here.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

Everything old is new again.

The rough economy blues have spawned the resurgence of a very old idea. Only this time, the classic barter network is back with a new twist. Reincarnated as a way to drive new business, firms such as Pittsburgh’s Green Apple Barter have gained considerable airtime as of late touting itself as a path out of broader economic woes.

It works like this.

Barter networks are - essentially - closed commerce networks. As such, when you join, you have a direct incentive to do business with others in your group. For illustration, let’s pretend you are a roofing contractor. When you perform the service for another member of the barter network, you don’t receive money. Rather, you receive “barter credits”. (Each network works a bit differently, but this is a common approach). The member who receives the service pays for it in cash - or if they have them - barter credits of its own. In turn, you can use the barter credits you receive for goods or services you need within the group. The network manager takes care of the tax implications of the transaction, sending 1099 forms to each member at the end of the fiscal year, as well as takes its own cut (somewhere between six and 10 percent).

Got all that?

I know what your thinking. This doesn’t sound like a “barter” at all. I remembered bartering quite differently. When I was a boy, we had a barter network (of sorts) for baseball cards and the like. You had a player’s card I wanted. I had a player’s card you wanted. We struck a deal. End of transaction. That was a barter.

But this is different. Webster’s defines “barter” as “the exchange (goods or services) for other goods or services without using money.” And by that definition, they are (technically) correct. However, that same dictionary defines money as “a current medium of exchange in the form of coins and banknotes” and secondarily “the assets, property, and resources owned by someone or something.” I think barter bucks qualify as money. But that’s just semantics.

What is really going on here is somewhat of a rebirth of micro-economies - groups of people getting together, separating themselves from the larger economy, and transacting amongst themselves.

The benefits, on the surface, are clear.

The barter network is, as it is being promoted, a closed system. Psychologically, we are wired to want to “belong”, and the barter network plays to that need. The larger the network gets, the more choices you have (yes, Green Apple Barter sports plastic surgeons as well as flat roof repair, funny as that might sound). That means, in contrast to my baseball card story, you and I do not need to have exactly what the other wants. Finally, and perhaps most alluringly, if your company has unused capacity (read: missed opportunity cost) you can sell services to the barter network rather than see then go unused. It is not money, but at least you get something.

From a “green” perspective, localized barter networks could also reduce the micro-economy’s impact on the environment by reducing transportation and fuel costs.

Still sound a bit fishy? Yes. But.

Closed buying networks can work. Case in point: I have a client in a niche B2B industry. Their company is a member of a semi-secret closed buying network. At first suspicious, my client has enjoyed considerable success. The network is well organized, well managed, and tightly knit. In stark contrast to the vast variety of goods and services promoted in other barter networks, this group handles only goods and services directly related to their specialized industry. In other words, they are not trying to remake the broader economy, only make their niche more efficient.

Outside of situations like that one, does the barter network tickle your suspicious bone?

It should. Here’s why.

Companies drawn in by barter networks at this economic time are likely to be struggling (especially given the way barter networks are promoting themselves). In much the same way multi-level marketers pray on people down on their luck, barter networks seems to be dredging the bottom of the barrel for those firms capitalism would consign to failure.

It comes down to this. The real economy defeated the older barter economies for good reason: Efficiency. Not just in the dollars and cents, but in weeding out companies, products and services that compete poorly.

If you are having trouble selling your product or service in the real economy, a secondary barter economy is unlikely to help. Problems in your business likely are fundamental: poor market targeting, value proposition, ineffective sales, product/service issues. All of the above.

So before you’re tempted to join a barter network to improve your business prospects (and burden your financials with an additional 6-10 percent “tax”), take a hard look in the mirror. And fix what you see.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

We sure have come a long way from the dreaded “green screen” automated teller.

Without much fanfare, Wells Fargo’s reintroduced ATM user interface sports a number of visual enhancements to speed common transactions, make the process more intuitive, and personalize the experience - all without scaring off the technophobes among us.

If you aren’t a Wells Fargo customer, the changes may be a bit hard to visualize, but the payoff is worth it. Let’s hit a few of the high points of the design.

Overall, the user interface features a cleaner and decidedly “less technical” look. Key to accomplishing that objective is a reduction in contrast between the background imagery and the action buttons themselves.

At first glance, that seems a bit counter-intuitive. Why would you want to decrease contrast? Simple: Small screens only can accomplish only one outcome at a time. When each button is bordered by a bold gold line on a uniform black screen (as it was in the previous interface), a visually cacophony ensues, increasing the transaction time as users fumble through the array of competing options. By reworking the contrast ratio, the interface quickly delivers only pertinent information.

But that singular focus would be in vain would it not be for predictive functionality. And here, Wells Fargo’s designers did not disappoint.

A large array of banking options is available - as you would expect - on the right two-thirds of the screen. The left third of the screen, by contrast, features common transactions gleaned from your own transaction history. Clearly deliberate, Western readers (of Germanic and Romantic languages primarily) begin looking for key information as they scan left to right, top to bottom.

For me as a Wells Fargo customer, that means my most common cash withdrawals and most common deposits appear visually distinct in exactly the location where I begin looking. Bottom line: Once logged in, most of my transactions require only one touch to complete.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

[If you are interested in a more detailed visual review, visit http://physicalinterface.com/view/that-design-is-money for a screen-by-screen review of the user experience from former Pentagram designer Holger Struppek, the San Francisco firm that completed the project.]

The deeper significance comes from what the user interface means for the Wells Fargo brand position.

According to a Wells Fargo spokesperson, the bank always looks for new ways to give customers faster, easier and more convenient service.

Wells Fargo, in a critical step farther, put its money where its mouth is. I learned from my contact that the bank tested the interface for over a year, and found its customers really took to it. Test groups found the ATM faster, more convenient, and more personal. Exactly what Wells Fargo and its design team wanted.

From a positioning perspective, Wells Fargo is creating a personalized experience for its automated interactions.

And that’s significant.

Many bank customers struggle with a removal of “people” from the financial process. Anecdotally, I find myself among the few people willing to use the (near empty) ATM line at the bank while most others cram teller lines for their chance to speak with a real person.

From the bank’s perspective, the financial reality is stark. People (read: tellers) are expensive. In fact, they are a huge expense: Recruitment, training, retention, and benefits to name just a few. Their hours are limited, and as anyway familiar with peak demand staffing understands, having enough people at the correct time proves exceedingly difficult.

Moving to technology (read: more ATMs) makes financial sense. A significant up-front investment to be sure, ATMs can serve more people, faster, for less money per transaction. However, increasing your reliance on technology comes at a price. Less personalized service means less of an emotional connection with the bank and the potential for reduced brand loyalty.

It seems to me Wells Fargo wasn’t willing to risk it. They wanted it both ways. And they were willing to invest the money to get it.

They had good reason for optimism.

If done correctly, technology interaction can engender brand loyalty. On the (very) small screen, think Nokia versus iPhone. Think “like” versus “love”. In other words, to make it work, the visual interface matters.

While I am not sure the Wells Fargo ATM experience compares exactly with Apple’s UI genius (nor does Wells Fargo claim that it does), it does not have to. In the banking world, providing lightning fast, intuitive transactions is exactly what people want from their ATM.

In this case, Wells Fargo has used something as commonplace as user interface - something most banks consider an afterthought - to drive a competitive wedge.

That is what is so refreshing. That a large, conservative bank would allow itself to invest real money in something as “squishy” as good design.

Although moves like this (even if it were replicated among the entire banking sector) will not stop the industry from hemorrhaging market capitalization, Wells Fargo gives us a clear reminder that smart design is not irrelevant, is not just for looks, and is not a poor investment.

For Wells Fargo, being pretty pays dividends.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

It all started during a recent trip to Target to purchase Tide.

Imagine my surprise when the plastic jug to which I had been accustomed - the 100 fluid ounce size - had been replaced with a container half as large.

At first, of course, I was a bit taken aback. But then I noticed something: The label indicated the detergent was now concentrated to twice its normal strength (with both an explicit and implicit understanding that you need to use half as much in each laundry load).

Fair enough.

The move seemed to make perfect sense. Fluid is both heavy and bulky. Because shipping costs largely are dependent on weight and volume, making this change reduces the per unit shipping cost in two ways: (1) it drops the weight-shipping-cost figure that must be factored into each unit sold, and (2) increases the number of units per shipping container. $4.00 per gallon gas (and more specifically $4.79 deisel) helps the equation, but this is essentially the same long-term solution Ikea popularized years ago: Shipping unassembled furniture avoids shipping air. Not exactly the same concept, but you get the idea.

As an added bonus, less plastic required for packaging means each bottle of Tide consumes fewer resources. At best, less petroleum is needed in production of the plastic bottle. At worst, a smaller bottle means less landfill space. As a happy medium, “smaller” equals “easier to recycle”.

Again, nice.

Then the number cruncher got the best of me. The 100 ounce Tide regularly cost $12.99. The 50 ounce (2X concentrated Tide) costs $6.99. Let’s do some math. At the larger size, you get a rate of $0.1299 per ounce. At the smaller (but twice as concentrated, and thus easily comparable) size, Tide costs $0.1389 per ounce.

So, in effect, Tide just passed along a 6.9 percent price increase.

Sometimes, with a store coupon, the price would drop below $10.00, but you could never count on it. On occasion, a bonus bottle would include an additional 20 ounces for the same price. In other words, if you used a lot of detergent, you waited for a deal.

A bit of consumer information helped here. Years ago, the CenterPoint Energy Home Service Plus technician paid a service call to repair a bad set a bearings on our washing machine. He noticed the large (100 ounce) detergent and casually asked how much soap we used per load. Like must people, I showed him the convenient guide marks on the inside of the cap. With two kids, the “full cap” line got the most use.

He laughed out loud.

I came to discover that washing machines need very little soap - much less than the detergent companies recommend. He reminded me that every laundromat in town posts conspicuous signs to remind novices (like me) to use less soap; too much soap slowly ruins their equipment. In fact, we likely had enough residual detergent on all of our family’s clothes to wash them two to three more times without adding a drop of detergent.

Suffice to say, I buy less Tide.

However, the newer and “more concentrated” soap is much harder to gauge. Luckily, I know better than to fill the cap. But I have a feeling many people do not, and will fill the cap as I used to do. Only now, they are “filling the cap” at a higher per ounce rate.

Good for Tide. Bad for you.

With a small amount of research, it became clear “package shrinkage” was not a localized phenomenon. The consumerist.com as well as the venerable Consumer Reports have been cataloging this effect on many grocery items: Yogurt, cheese, diapers, iced tea, butter, dog food, fast food, and toothpaste. In these cases, however, they are rarely as clever as Tide (in concentrating its formula), but instead ever-so-slightly reducing their package or portion size. If you were not careful, you could easily fail to notice that you are getting less product for the same price.

Upon reflection, though, this type of change is nothing new. Throughout marketing history, packaging was always a way to get creative with pricing.

When it is cost-effective (read: low input costs) to add product for the same price, packaging experts do it with gusto. Think of the ubiquitous “bonus packs”; consumers feel they are getting a great deal. When the converse happens, they pull back.

Only now, price elasticity is historically tight (in other words, consumers are very sensitive to upward price pressure) and input costs (especially diesel fuel for trucks and petroleum for plastics) are at record highs.

Additionally, some package sizes are so ingrained in the consumer consciousness that tinkering will not work: Think 12-ounce soft drink cans and 1-gallon milk jugs.

So packaging gurus needed to get especially crafty. In addition to the portion size game, they’ve employed creative copywriters to tout “healthy sizes” as a way to make us feel as though they care about our waistline. Nice gesture, but I remain suspicious.

In the end, even if consumers do catch on, rising input costs are a reality. The era of super-cheap commodity products may be coming to and end. I can’t blame marketing departments for getting resourceful; they’ve learned over the years that cycles come and go, and consumers will go along (pretty quietly) with creative packaging, but a price-hike stigma sticks in the public consciousness. It’s blunt. It’s raw. And it grates on people.

Certainly, the changes make sense for the manufacturers, but what does it mean for the rest of us?

Well, it can start with less soap.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

When everything is “the best”, nothing is.

Don’t get me wrong. My wife and I spent the better part of one week in Las Vegas this month, and it was highly entertaining. At first, it was hard not to be taken in by all the action. We were seeing the best shows. Eating at the best restaurants. Hitting the best clubs. For humble folks from the Midwest, the city packs quite a punch.

But after a few days, that pesky Midwestern skepticism began to creep in.

Were we really taking in “the best” of Las Vegas? Why did every place we go claim to be the “top spot” on the strip? How could every venue boast “the number one show” in town?

To illustrate, let me fill you in on just a few stops on our itinerary:

We saw “Monty Python’s Spamalot” at the Wynn Hotel, voted the “#1 Show in Las Vegas” by the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

That seemed funny, because the same publication also rated “Phantom” the “#1 Show in Las Vegas”. Hmmm.

The “KA” show (the martial arts-inspired Cirque du Soleil show) also received “Top” honors.

Perhaps we only saw “the best” shows? Hardly. Every show advertised was “the Best” or “the Number One” show in Las Vegas.

That said, I guess I can understand touting entertainment. Entertainment is the Las Vegas claim to fame. Perhaps dining, lodging, and shopping would be immune from the race to the imaginary top.

It wasn’t.

We ate dinner one night at MGM Grand’s “Pearl”, a fine-dining Asian restaurant rated “Four Diamonds” by AAA. (Their “Top Honor”, I was told, when I made reservations).

Speaking of the MGM Grand, we stayed there. Apparently, we received “Maximum Vegas”. Whatever that was.

At night, we rode the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Las Vegas hotel - a “Signature” of the Las Vegas skyline with “the Best View” of the strip. (The Stratosphere Hotel also claims that honor. I guess “the Best View” is relative.)

Shopping at the Fashion Show Mall was nothing less than “the Best Shopping Experience in Las Vegas”. Las Vegas Premium Outlets also were “the Best”. But maybe they meant the best “Outlet Mall”. Curious.

Sometimes, “creative” marketers would dispense with “top” and “best” in favor of the similarly unhelpful “hottest”, “sexiest”, and “most stylish”. The bombardment was relentless, from elevator placards to mobile billboards to giant flashing neon signs to the infamous “card thwappers” lining the strip at night.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

Here’s the rub: None of the places we visited needed the extra push. As we made our decisions on where to go, what to see, and what to eat, it quickly became useless to rely on “impartial reviews” and grandiose statements. Everyone used them. We had to look for the uniqueness hidden behind the useless language.

And we found it, of course, but that seems beside the point. Isn’t it marketing’s job to make sure you understand the one thing a product or service can provide that nothing else can? I thought it was.

Perhaps marketers in Las Vegas have come to the conclusion that most people will be so taken in by the whole aura of the place, that the first ad to cross their eyes claiming to be “the best” will sink itself into the subconscious. And perhaps they are right. Las Vegas is pretty successful, isn’t it?

Yes, Las Vegas is successful, but most individual establishments are not.

Outside of a few “institutions”, the vast majority of entertainment options stay in circulation no more than 60 to 90 days. The facts seem to speak for themselves. Even Vegas could market better.

[Let's not be too comfortable and smug in Minnesota. I know plenty of auto dealerships boasting the "biggest volume dealer" in the Midwest, plenty of real estate agents who claim "number one" honors, and plenty of downtown restaurants touting "the best (fill in the blank cuisine) in the city". Overused superlatives are a national marketing crisis, and by no means an isolated phenomenon.]

By this point, you might (in somewhat justifiable frustration) ask: Did you see any example of good marketing on your entire trip?

Yes in fact, I did. There are plenty of examples, if you care to look closely. But this one for Hoover Dam is the best.

“Don’t miss the Biggest Dam Attraction in Southern Nevada”.

Funny. Catchy. Unique. Enough said.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

It’s a brain pacemaker.

Perhaps you have heard of it. It has been about a year since most of us got our first look at Medtronic’s Activa Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) implantable device. To the layperson, and on a very basic level, it functions akin a “traditional” pacemaker for the heart. In this case, by contrast, Medtronic’s latest technical marvel helps treat the degenerative effects of Parkinson’s disease by regulating electrical impulses deep within the brain.

Although amazing, the device in and of itself is not the point. Rather, Activa symbolizes the beginning of a fundamental shift in brand strategy for the medical technology industry. First, a bit of background.

The brain is, with little doubt, one of the next great frontiers of medical treatment. Until only recently however, developing actual therapies proved elusive. Research had not provided the critical underpinnings for therapeutic and technological development.

That delay between research and therapy is not at all new. Heart research and therapy followed the same general path. In the early 1970s, people suffering from heart disease had few options. We understood (some of) the properties of blood thinners. We understood basic heart function. We understood basic bypass.

Through the 1980s and 1990s, each year brought new advances: artificial hearts, implantable stents (drug coated and otherwise), new drugs, advanced bypass techniques, and minimally invasive techniques.

An entire medical technology industry, and brand position, grew up around this technology. Minnesota firms Medtronic, Guidant, and others were right in the middle of it. They branded their businesses around their expertise in heart technology and treatments, creating a picture in the public mind of the promise of new research and new breakthroughs.

And it worked. Minnesota med tech firms are among the most respected of our corporate citizens.

But today, we can see their market beginning to mature. Innovations in the “heart” industry, while significant, are not as “breakthrough” in the minds of the general public as they were 10 to 20 years ago. Branding your company as an expert in heart technology no longer holds the same panache as it once did.

To make matters worse, medical technology firms have struggled a bit with image projection in the last five to six years: product recalls, injuries, deaths, consolidations, mergers, and boardroom issues have all taken their toll on the brands of the top firms in the industry. Without another major leap forward (in the public mind), medical technology’s image has begun to tarnish a bit.

To that end, the brain seems to be just what the doctor ordered.

As the heart market has matured, brain research has begun to catch up. With advances in visualization technology, we are beginning to see inside the brain as we never could before. Now, just as in the 1970s and 80s in heart research, we are on the dawn of a whole new era of development.

Medtronic is on the first step on that path with Activa.

Industry analysts put the market size for this type of product class (medical technology applications for brain condition therapy) at $3 billion today growing to $8 billion by the end of the decade. An impressive growth rate, to be sure, but even that misses the point.

With most of the attention focused on stem cell therapies, at least in the popular mind, we as the general business public are also missing the point. Those therapies and research are in their infancy. Promising, but years away.

Medtronic, among others, see that that the next major advances - the breakthroughs that define industries and propel companies to new heights - will come (at least in the near to moderate term) from brain therapies.

Even as the casual business observer, the possibilities are staggering.

Parkinson’s is just one possible application. Roughly 500,000 people suffer from Parkinson’s in the US alone, with 50,000 new cases being added each year.

But there are other brain conditions. Many others. The Brain Foundation lists 58 individual conditions as a starting point for those of us outside the medical persuasion. A few of the more common:

Alzheimer’s Disease and Dementia (Non Alzheimer Type)
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)
Aneurysm
Autism
Cerebral Palsy
Traumatic Brain Injury (coma, concussion, etc)
Down Syndrome
Dyslexia
Epilepsy
Meningitis
Multiple Sclerosis
Muscular Dystrophy
Tourette Syndrome

An $8 billion market? I think not.

Of course, Medtronic is not alone. Industry powerhouse St. Jude also is developing brain therapies. As is tiny Houston-based Cyberonics - it has received FDA approval to test its implantable device to treat epilepsy-related drug-resistant depression. These firms are reaping the benefits of first-mover advantage, and along with it, the chance to create an entirely new brand picture in the minds of the public, the business community, top talent, and investors.

That said, brain technology remains a tiny share of Medtronic’s business (as it does for most other med-tech firms). And it will be for the foreseeable future. But as Medtronic moves into the future, branding itself around the brain truly is a smart move.

The only thing standing in the way of an evolving (and dominant) brand position is big corporate inertia. But I think Medtronic is smarter than that.