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

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.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

This time, it isn’t funny.

Quite unlike the 1978 B-movie spoof classic, these killer tomatoes mean business. Salmonella bacteria contamination has been linked to fresh tomatoes sold to grocers and restaurant chains. As of last week, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) added 100 new confirmed cases, bringing the total (officially) sickened to 383 in 30 states. One person is dead.

[Specifically, this culprit strain of bacterium is Salmonella Saintpaul. We won’t get into the phenomenally bad timing of the outbreak, the name of the strain, and the national convention coming in a couple of months. Suffice to say, our fair city doesn’t need this right now.]

Washing tomatoes is not enough. Salmonella is resilient, and can live for many days on the surface of the tomato. Fortunately for most of us, the bacterium is (a) unlikely to make us sick at all, or (b) will only produce mild symptoms. But for the elderly, the young, and those with weakened immune systems, Salmonella poisoning is no laughing matter.

When we step back, however, and visualize the sheer numbers of tomatoes consumed in the United States - some 27 million tons per year - the number of persons ill (while tragic) remains a statistically acceptable risk. You are far more likely to die from the flu virus (about 20,000 do each season) than you ever will from eating a contaminated vegetable.

But none of that matters, does it?

The crux of the perception problem is simple: The CDC does not fully understand where the outbreak has come from, adding to an acute “fear of the unknown” in the public mind. You can hardly blame them. Tomatoes, as a part of the total commercial food supply, exist in a complicated and interconnected supply chain web. Grocers buy from several suppliers. Those suppliers buy from several distributors. Those distributors buy from several growers. Those growers are located all over the country and all over the world. The delay in tracking down the source of the contamination is understandable. But that doesn’t make us feel any better.

Restaurants and grocers all over the country pulled tomatoes from the shelves, grinding the tomato supply chain to a halt across the country. Tons of tomatoes will rot in the fields. The estimated cost to the industry could reach well into nine figures. Very bad.

But what will the long-term affect on the industry be?

For a clue, we can look to the spinach contamination/outbreak of 2006 for a microcosm case study.

Spinach is a comparatively tiny market, but the 2006 contamination was certainly analogous in its impact on public perception. The impact was severe and immediate. According to USDA figures, spinach consumption dropped 18.1 percent from 2005 to 2006 (or 7.581 million tons to 6.207 million tons).

However, what’s more interesting is the change in commodity price, measured in cost per ton, which over the same period jumped from $22.7/ton to $29.3/ton. When you do the math and look at total market value, the net effect was a growth of just over $10 million ($172 million in 2005 to $182 million in 2006).

In other words, aside from the growers directly affected by the outbreak, the total market value actually increased nearly five percent.

When we look into 2007, while the figures remain incomplete, total tonnage of spinach produced/consumed has recovered somewhat - to just over 7.002 million tons. Better news for growers, prices seem to be holding at their higher rate.

So what can spinach tell us about tomatoes?

A couple of things.

First: Consumption will drop in the short term. Sharply. Because of the nature of the agricultural supply chain, that reduction in consumption will put downward pressure on crop supply. But as the demand picks up (and crops have been ruined in the delay), supply/demand tells us the commodity price will rise, likely making up the financial difference from lost production, and possibly increasing the value of the market as it did in the aftermath of the spinach outbreak.

Second: The public mind has a short memory. And better news for growers, people tend to crave what they cannot have. All this talk about specific varieties of tomatoes, where they are grown, how they are grown, and how to cook them (cooking kills Salmonella), excites the public consciousness. People had largely forgotten about spinach. But take Spinach away, and everybody wants it! Now we’ve taken tomatoes away. The affect on the market could be tremendous.

In the end, will Salmonella Saintpaul hurt the tomato market?

Yes. And no.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

For all intents and purposes, Lake Delton no longer exists.

On June 9, after historic and torrential rainfall, a section of the lake’s shoreline surrounding its dam gave way. The force of 267 acres of water (about 700 million gallons) ripped through adjacent highway A and emptied into the Wisconsin River, about 80 feet away.

According to those who witnessed the event, it was nothing short of biblical.

Fortunately, no lives were lost as the lake violently emptied over the course of a few hours. Luckily, dams downstream held. Other lakes in the area were not affected. That’s the good news.

Here’s the bad news. Lake Delton is a key part of the Wisconsin Dells resort community. For anyone living in Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Illinois, I hardly need to explain the potential impact. The “Dells”, as it is called in our region, is arguably the largest and most popular family resort community in the four-state area. Tens of thousands visit each year for the dozens of activities: water parks, petting zoos, shopping, shows, museums, and golf. And up until last week, a myriad of water activities on Lake Delton.

Of course, there are the direct and immediate effects of the disaster: Homes and property along the lakefront - especially where the shoreline gave way - are utterly destroyed. For the luckier ones, who directly lost only property of lesser value, a previously lakefront home or resort now sits alongside a festering muddy pit.

But leaving that aside for a moment, let’s examine broader impact. The impact to the Wisconsin Dells brand. And what planners should be doing about it. Right now.

First, at the onset of the peak summer season, this could not have happened at a worse time for the resorts that line Lake Delton. In the days immediately following the disaster, tourists canceled reservations in droves. Cancellations are hardly unpredictable, but certainly they rub salt in the wounds of the resort owners.

Second, because the lake no longer exists, attractions using the lakes are also affected. The list is long: Duck Tours (amphibious car/boat hybrids circa WWII), the Tommy Bartlett ski show, fishing tours, and many others. Put very simply, they no longer have a viable business model. The Tommy Bartlett show, exhibiting supreme creativity, is moving “on shore”, but I can’t imagine that will fly. Sometimes moving to another lake will work. But the Wisconsin Dells area already is crowded with attractions and activities. Uprooted proprietors are likely to find the pickings slim.

Third, and probably most importantly, is the brand image of the Dells itself. People visit the Dells to get away from it all. It is the quintessential summer vacation in the Midwest, where people can shed their winter clothes and buttoned-up personas and cut-loose for a week. In past years, the Dells has also begun to attract a much wealthier clientele - shedding some of its “campy” image to pull in high net worth visitors who ordinarily would travel out of state.

Now, the Dells is a disaster area. That doesn’t fit the mojo.

I don’t blame city planners for being a bit dumbfounded at this one.

Even the best PR pros do not plan for this type of risk during crisis planning exercises. They prepare for the horrible, yet predictable: A child drowns at a water park. A bear escapes from the zoo. A duck boat crashes. The ski show has an accident. A restaurant sickens a group of people. The community sees a massive insect hatch. They were not prepared for this.

But nonetheless, they must act. Quickly. And I have some advice.

City planners need to get a media plan in place immediately. They need to tell anyone who will listen that the Dells is open for business. They need to say, in clear terms, which activities are off-line and which activities are on-line. They need to communicate that most of the Dells is not directly affected in order to prevent a wholesale collapse in reservations. To that end, although the economic impact has been severe, direct incentives to visitors should be in order. Also, now is the time to plan for the expense and tactics of marketing, public relations, and advertising campaigns necessary to re-promote the area over the next few years.

Additionally, activities and attractions not directly affected by the Lake Delton disaster must quickly act of their own accord. They need to communicate directly with customers who have standing reservations. As in any disaster, misinformation is rampant, and people may mistakenly believe their (unaffected) resort will be closed for business. Now is the time to provide customers the correct information. In other words, it still makes sense to come to the Dells. Do not cancel your vacation.

For the resorts along the lake, this summer (sadly) could be a total loss. It is more important to get involved with the state planners, the Army Corps of Engineers, and others who will be working on a plan to refill the lake. If they are not involved in the process, it will likely be years before the plan is in place and activity begins. They cannot afford inaction. They must be putting direct (i.e. lobbying) and indirect (i.e. pubic relations) pressure on policymakers to act quickly to avoid a complete loss for summer ‘09.

Finally, the community can take advantage of the latest trend in travel: charity-tourism. Funny as it may sound to some of us, some people actually want to visit a disaster area for more than idle curiosity. They do not come to gawk, but to help in a meaningful way. It happened on a large scale in Louisiana after Katrina, as well as several smaller examples all over the country and around the globe. These groups can help with the clean up, rebuilding, and the word-of-mouth PR effort necessary to get the community back on its feet. The Dells needs to help coordinate this inevitable effort so that it best serves the community’s needs. As a side bonus, with a structured effort, other vacationers could be easily convinced to spend a few hours helping out over the course of their time in the area.

Unfortunately, time is not on their side.

Despite all of the sadness, shock, and disbelief, the Dells must act right now.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

You can’t blame Chrysler for trying.

Arguably the sickest of the American big three automakers, and the one least well-positioned to compete in a fuel-efficient vehicle future, executives have whipped out the old-fashioned sales promotion to pull attention away from the unpleasant truth.

The deal is pretty simple.

If you buy a new Chrysler vehicle, you will receive a debit card of sorts to use when you fill up your tank. By using it, you essentially “lock” your gas price at $2.99 per gallon for the next three years.

Of course, there are a few caveats (aren’t there always). The deal applies only to the first 12,000 miles. And you can’t go buying regular gas when your vehicle needs diesel (and try to game their system). And it doesn’t apply to every vehicle (sorry, Viper buyers).

If your suspicious bone is tingling, it should be.

Let’s do some math.

First, we will need to make a few assumptions. First, we will assume gas remains above $2.99 per gallon for the foreseeable future; we’ll use $4.00 per gallon as our average. Next, let’s assume you are not trying to game the system, and you are simply filling up the new vehicle you just bought. Finally, let’s assume your new Chrysler gets 20 miles to the gallon, on average, over the three-year plan.

Subtracting $4.00 minus $3.00 (basically), you save $1.00 per gallon. Dividing your 12,000 per year annual allotment by 20 miles per gallon, you get 600 gallons. The math gets easy here: You save $600 per year, or $1800 over the life of the plan. If your vehicle gets 10 miles per gallon (I feel bad for you, Dodge Ram owners), you’ll save $3600. Twice as much.

Not bad.

Now let’s change the assumptions.

What if gas does not remain at $4.00 per gallon. Many analysts believe the price of oil is exhibiting “bubble market” properties, and could very well crash. But let’s say it stabilities a bit downward. Say, $3.50 per gallon at the pump.

At that rate, you have saved $900 over the course of three years.

Still not bad, you say. That’s still $900 you did not have before you bought your new Chrysler. Or lots more if you bought a gas-guzzling Ram pickup. You can plug in your own variables and do your own math.

But here’s the rub. You could have had the money. Up front. If you had simply asked for it. Most dealers get loads of money in bonus cash and incentives. The numbers you are “saving” in gas are easily gotten in the negotiation process. And the time value of money tells us that we would rather have those dollars now rather than an annuity over time all things being equal. (We will not explore any of the other factors involved in the auto purchase process. You get the idea by now.)

That’s logic.

But that is not buyer behavior.

I will bet Chrysler does reasonably well for themselves with this promotion in the short term, for a few reasons.

First, they have kept the deal short. You don’t have much time to take advantage of it, which reduces the chances you will hear a better argument from some crazy marketing analyst. From a financial perspective, it limits the exposure the company has in case gas prices really shoot through the roof. On the cost downside, if prices for gas begin to fall, the promotion would fall flat as well. The promotion was too short to see that happen.

Second, they are tapping into an emotional connection - a fear - that people have over the rapidly escalating price of gasoline, and what that is doing to the family budget. Chrysler is selling predictability, which is worth more in the minds of many consumers than the time value of an up-front cash payment.

Third, it gives Chrysler a needed PR boost. The American automakers have been awash in bad news lately, and that does not help the buying mood of its customers (who have been flocking to Toyota and Honda showrooms in search of better fuel efficiency).

The core problem however, that no sales gimmick can address, is Chrysler’s lack of planning when it comes to fuel-efficient vehicles. GM and Ford, albeit late, have drunk the high-mileage Kool-Aid. Chrysler, through institutional blindness, corporate boardroom distraction in the recent spin-off, or simply bad planning, is left with few models in its portfolio that satisfy what consumers are looking for right now: Good car and good mileage.

If after all that, you still find yourself interested in “$2.99 gas”, and you are willing to limit your selection to the Chrysler lineup, you are out of luck. The plan officially expired June 2.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

It was like the earthquake that devastated San Francisco in 1906.

But there are a lot more people when and where this one struck.

On Monday, May 12, 2008, a 7.9 magnitude earthquake hit southwestern China’s Sichuan province. Many smaller villages were, literally, wiped off the map. Much of the provincial capital Chengdu was reduced to rubble. 10,000 people were dead within an hour. At least 60,000 lost their lives as of this writing. 200,000 have been forced to flee a tenuously perched lake created from massive landslides. Millions of others have been left homeless.

It is, without question, a disaster of epic proportions, just as China had hoped to focus worldwide attention on the 2008 summer Olympic games.

The Chinese government moved quickly and decisively. (A new phenomenon in China to be sure, partially brought on by media attention surrounding this summer’s games, but undoubtedly a trend towards heightened government responsiveness to its citizens. A good thing.) China’s equivalent of the National Guard moved in with thousands of troops to coordinate relief efforts, prevent the spread of disease, deal with the effects of massive aftershocks, and analyze the geologic stability of the area’s landmasses.

(Sadly, a comparison to Katrina is hardly necessary.)

The real reputation management story here, however, is the domestic corporate response in China.

Corporations of the size to affect change at this level (i.e. donate large sums of money) are a relatively new concept in China. Even 10 years ago, no one would have expected any sort of a meaningful response.

But they did respond. Quickly and generously. Within a few days, over $1 billion flowed from domestic corporations to relief efforts of all sorts.

While corporations themselves are reasonably new in China, corporate philanthropy is even newer. The jaded among us might believe that domestic corporations were “pressured” in donating such large sums because of their unique connection to the communist government apparatus. But I am not so sure. As more of these large organizations join the international community, I think it is natural they respond as good corporate citizens. I doubt any arm-twisting - explicit or implicit - took place. Public pressure (another new Chinese concept) does the trick.

Here’s the rub. Multi-national corporations (McDonald’s, Samsung, Nokia, KFC, and many others) responded as well. They donated money and supplies just as quickly, to the tune of $500 million.

At the time, everyone in the corporate community seemed focused on meeting the challenges of the disaster.

Then simple text messages began appearing on Chinese phones.

Essentially, they accused these multi-national corporations of donating too little to earthquake relief efforts. That the “iron roosters” (a symbol in China of the uncaring tightwad) only were interested in exploiting China’s resources, but cared little that its people were suffering.

One could make the case that domestic corporations contributed twice as much, but I think that misses the point.

One also could make the case that this attitude is the national extension of a wave a patriotism sweeping over China in the aftermath of a disaster - an attitude driven by a deep-seated resentment of colonial aggression during the 19th and 20th centuries. Again, a reasonable argument, and with perhaps some truth.

However, I see something much more modern at work.

The power of the humble text message is undeniable. It can have instant distribution. It can cast a wide net. Most interestingly (and frighteningly to those on the short end of one), text messages can carry surprising credibility.

If you think about it, though, it makes sense. Text messages appear directly on your phone. That makes them very personal - almost visceral. The lack of “corporate branding” makes them seem immune from public relations spin-doctors. We are trained to be suspicious of advertising, but are text messages advertising? When you get a text message from a friend, where is the line drawn?

The net effect is simple: Too many Chinese citizens do believe the text messages. Too many do not believe the multi-nationals, their media releases, their posters, and their ad campaigns.

All that said, how could multinationals (or any company, really, including US-based firms) combat this problem? First, it takes understanding the true nature of “reputation” in the modern sense of the word. Reputation, as a business construct, no longer follows a source-receiver model (if it ever did). Reputation is a non-linear, chaotic system. It does not respond quite as predictably as it once did to “war rooms” and “crisis plans”.

That does not mean you are out of luck.

A few things to consider:

1. Authenticity: If you truly are who you say you are, and do what you say you will do, your company’s reputation has the solid foundation it will need to build upon not just during a crisis, but over the long haul.

2. Relationship building: The crisis event is not the time to build relationships with those stakeholders who can affect your reputation.

3. Fighting fire with fire: Corporate reputation managers often find themselves remiss to use the same guerrilla tactics their detractors would use - blog posts, text messages, and viral campaigns. A costly strategic mistake.

If I were a multinational with a large Chinese presence, I’d be warming up my thumbs.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

Does anyone remember the 1973 B-movie Soylent Green?

In a freakish future (the year 2022) in which overpopulation and environmental degradation have led to widespread food shortages and poverty, the fictional Soylent corporation “solves” the problem by processing the “extra people” into yummy green wafers. Suffice to say, this was not one of Charlton Heston’s best films.

Let me be very clear, the term “Shmeat” does not refer to the processing of people into tasty nutritious snacks. However, the basic premise bears not a few similarities.

Shmeat refers to synthetic animal meat tissue. Instead of slaughtering actual animals for their meat, researchers have been working on “growing” meat tissue in a controlled laboratory environment.

(Scientists have been toying with the idea for the last 50 years or so, mind you, but only now has the genetics and laboratory technology caught up with the concept. That’s because “meat” is a pretty complicated thing to replicate in a lab. Meat is not simply “muscle” tissue - it includes fat, nerve, and other tissues, all of which together in the correct proportions grill up into meaty deliciousness. Just “muscle” is pretty tough stuff.)

Winston Churchill mused on the idea in the 1930s and 40s. Specifically: Why whole bird when all I want is the breast meat? A recent NPR story provides a bit more of the historical backdrop; you can listen to it here.

Creep factor aside, Shmeat seems like a good idea on its face. We would no longer need animals for meat, eliminating the need for ever-more-efficient factory farming. We would be able to control the inputs to the growth process, essentially removing the risk of prion-based diseases (mad cow, etc) and nasty bacterial contamination (something like 25 percent of all chicken is contaminated - that’s what it is so important to cook it thoroughly). We can achieve perfect consistency in the meat product; no more “good cuts” and “bad cuts”. All cuts would be the same cut. Additionally, we can save arable land for crop production rather than animal feed, freeing up more production for food and fuel uses around the globe (or let the land/water return to its natural state, even better). This idea could even save us from overfishing our way into ecological collapse (fish is a meat as well).

Of course, Shmeat does not address the health reasons to eat less meat. Nor does the idea of factory-controlled food production sit well with many people. Will the controls be in place? Will synthetic meat be any safer? Will it be less safe?

All that said, if you can’t get over the creep factor, you are not alone.

And I think I know why.

Shmeat flies in the face of more than two decades of trends in food production and consumption - a trend only now beginning to gain steam. In that time, what have we learned about the marketing of food?

People are looking for more of a connection to our food, not less. We want to know where it comes from, what went into making it, and how it will affect our health.

People are looking for more localized production of food. We want to know the people responsible for our food and are beginning to reject the idea of “faceless corporate farms”.

People are looking for more natural foods. We want foods free from antibiotics, pesticides, and hormones. And we are willing to pay for them.

However, in life as in marketing, money matters.

Would people eat Shmeat if it were 50 percent the price? 25 percent the price? 10 percent the price? To put a finer point on it, if hamburger reached $10 per pound, would you consider Shmeat as an alternative? Some people might. What’s more, Shmeat may also have an application in the developing world where getting enough to eat remains a fundamental concern.

But what does common sense tell you?

Shmeat, as an idea and as a laboratory reality, is a throwback to the utopian and anti-utopian visions of the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. A time when all was possible with technology. A time when we explored the good, and the bad, of this vision in fanciful alliteration.

Synthetic food was part of that universe. I think its time has passed. We are on a different, and might I argue better, path now.

And thank goodness. I am creeped out.

Author:
Jason Voiovich
Ecra Creative Group

They have been called the “Peep Squad”.

Allegedly, certain members of the Geek Squad organization have been caught pilfering private customer information during home service calls. (A simple Google search will yield a myriad of specific examples; I will not indulge them here.)

Certainly, the label is not fair. The Geek Squad boasts thousands of employees, the largest organization of its kind in the United States. While there is almost certainly some truth to the charges for a tiny fraction of all employees, the vast majority of employees have never - and will never - do anything wrong. (The same argument for limited malfeasance could be made for any organization of its size.)

But the facts do not seem to matter, do they?

Bad news always travels faster than good news, and being the top organization of your kind is akin to giving the bad news engine premium fuel.

It really comes down to this: Has Best Buy made a strategic mistake bringing the Geek Squad into its stores? Has the nation’s largest electronics manufacturer put its reputation in the hands of a group of modesty-trained 20-somethings? Should the company rethink its decision now?

One side of the argument says “no”. The Geek Squad is a sound long-term investment.

From its humble beginnings in the brain of Robert Stephens, the Geek Squad essentially created the brand name computer service industry. Anyone over 30 remembers what it was like before then. If you did not work for a large organization (with its own internal IT staff), you were at the mercy of the Yellow Pages. Sometimes, you got someone who knew what he was doing. Most of the time, you did not. Getting your home computer serviced was a game of poker where the house had all the face cards.

But Stephens changed all that.

He made fun of the technician’s reputation (called them what everyone else did: Geeks), made them dress the stereotype (pocket protectors and all), and made them drive around in dorky little cars painted to look like police squads (the VW bug is quite dorky).

And it worked. People could remember the Geek Squad. It stuck in your head. And the business itself backed up the rhetoric. Agents - as technicians are called - were very smart. Better yet, they communicated well. They understood people’s reluctance and fears regarding home computers and made the service experience comfortable and satisfying.

By 2004, Best Buy recognized a very good thing, as well as a panacea to a vexing (and growing problem). As computers took up a larger and larger share of Best Buy’s sales (and home theater systems were beginning to get just as complicated), the company knew that its customer satisfaction index was at the mercy of the support experience. What’s more, Best Buy saw the Apple Store’s successful model of melding sales, service, training, and support. So it took the plunge. Best Buy bought out the (still tiny) Geek Squad chain and brought it completely in house.

Today, nearly all Best Buy locations serve as “precinct” locations for the Geek Squad. A nice value proposition, really. Trouble with your computer? The Geek Squad is just an in-store visit away.

It seemed like a perfect marriage.

But the Geek Squad is almost a victim of its own success.

In order to grow to the critical mass Best Buy required, the Geek Squad needed to expand. Fast. Literally, the company needed to hire hundred of new agents almost overnight to staff hundreds of Best Buy stores.

In the early days, Geek Squad agents could be carefully chosen. Agents had a much longer time to indoctrinate into the Geek Squad culture. They had a solid culture and experienced mentors. But these new agents were thrown into the mix, given some training, and thrown into the field.

And therein lies the problem.

From our business case days, we remember a similar situation of rapid expansion: Jiffy Lube.

While the specifics differ, the basic facts remain the same. Until Jiffy Lube came around, getting your oil changed was an all day affair at your corner service station. Service was slow, unreliable, and expensive. You never knew if the greasy technician under your car was actually doing what he was supposed to be doing, and you secretly (and sometimes explicitly) thought he was cheating you.

Jiffy Lube changed all that.

In about 30 minutes, your car was in and out. Jiffy Lube standardized the process. They instituted service checklists. They made the process understandable to the average person. They dressed in clean uniforms. They had clean waiting areas. Heck, you could even look trough the window to watch them work!

The concept took off. Clones followed, but it was Jiffy Lube who transformed the industry. It made auto dealer service departments more responsive and (nearly) put the corner service station out of business.

But much like the Geek Squad, Jiffy Lube was a victim of its own success. Thinking that it was the process - and not the people - who mattered, the company expanded too quickly for its own good. With a breakdown in controls, nefarious Jiffy Lube technicians would use the company’s brand trust to their personal advantage - overcharging and cheating customers.

It got ugly, to say the least. Only now is Jiffy Lube climbing out of its hole.

The real parallel is simple: Can the Geek Squad crawl out of its hole? In their rapid growth, they have expended significant reputation capital for not only themselves, but their corporate parent as well.

In the end analysis, I believe the Geek Squad can recover. Best Buy has the cash as well as the long-term commitment necessary.

But I am not sure it will be worth it.

Here’s why.

Most people do not, and will not, understand computers or computer repair. That lack of understanding leads to the explicit and implicit feeling they you are bring “taken”, even if in the end your computer gets fixed. Much like the Jiffy Lube case study, owning a computer is, today, analogous to owning a car. Most people really don’t understand most of what goes on under the hood, and have only fleeting trust for their mechanic.

As their market matures (I would argue the computer service market largely has done so), it will become less and less possible to “thrill” customers as it was in the heady early days of the home computer. The computer has become an appliance, like any other in your home, and few people are likely to be “thrilled” with the service on their dishwasher.

Look at it this way: Imagine a continuum from “Ecstatic” on one end, “Content” in the middle, and “Disgusted” on the other. In an immature service provider market, consumer information is so poor, and most service providers fall into the right side of the scale, that it is possible to develop a system that - for a time - moves the bar far to the left, delighting customers and building solid business. That is what Geek Squad and Jiffy Lube were able to do.

But the advantage doesn’t last. As the market matures, it is harder and harder to “delight” customers. Expectations increase as clones copy your model. While the bottom of the satisfaction index tends to stay put, the left side gets harder and harder to economically achieve. As time goes on, what remains is “content” at best and “mad” at worst (essentially the midpoint to low end of the continuum). In other words, over the long term, the best a company like this can do is make customers feel “okay” about the experience. Worse yet, the law of averages tells you the overall index will trend negative.

If I were Best Buy, I wouldn’t like a business unit where the best I could hope for is “okay” customer satisfaction. But is that a bigger risk than not being in control of service at all? Probably not.

If Best Buy is really lucky, perhaps the Geek Squad can rewrite the rules of the game one more time.