A Haven For Straight Talk <b>New Year's Resolution: Kicking the Ad-diction</b>

I have a confession to make: I am occasionally wrong. There. I've said it, and I can move on. I've heard that admitting you have a problem is the first step towards a cure, and so I'm well on the road to recovery. Now it's time for our industry to admit it has a problem and take a similar step towards wellness.

The Problem: Advertising

And it's not just that the ads are so freakishly bad. Some of them still are, but many are getting better. Higher quality production values, better copywriting, actual photographs instead of blatantly cheap-o clip art, etc. Some of you out there have been taking classes, hiring actual designers and working with agencies. I can tell. But the quality of the ads themselves isn't my chief beef.

Let me back up and bore you with two seemingly unrelated metaphorical tales, one taken from my college days and one from a friend who builds houses for a living. I promise they'll come together in a mystical union of wisdom that will have you running to edit your budget and winning major suck-up points with your management committee before the end of the year.

November 1987: Andy's Not Gettin' Any

Fall semester, senior year at Cornell. I asked Claire (not her real name, but how would you know), a nice young lady from my “History of World War I” class, if she'd like to see a movie sometime. She said, “Sure.” So we figured out a convenient time and walked down to the Ithaca Commons to see Woody Allen's “Radio Days.” I liked Woody Allen movies, as did she.

Here's the problem. Woody Allen movies, though mutually enjoyable, stimulate conversation. Lots of conversation. And conversation can stimulate disagreement, which can stimulate conflict, which can stimulate me walking home alone at 11:30 p.m. in the freezing cold.

What's the point? It's difficult to begin a relationship if the first thing you do together encourages quarreling.

Paint and Paper

My friend, Edward (not his real name … or is it?), builds houses for a living. He and his crew of six guys build three or four places a year. High quality stuff, always built to precise owner specifications. No cookie-cutter work for Ed. I asked him once if he had any good customer service rules or guidelines that could apply to other fields.

“Don't ever let people talk about paint and paper until after the foundation is laid,” he told me.

“Please elaborate,” I requested.

“You'll get people who want to get into all the piddly little design details about colors and swatches and fabric samples and wall paper and everything even before you've broken ground,” he explained. “And sometimes,” he continued, “they'll end up fighting so much about that stuff that they'll doom a job even before it really gets underway.”

“So you need to take care of first-things first,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Ed agreed. “Plus, lots of times things look very different after the actual walls are up. People have an idea in their head about something, but the reality is really different.”

“So you simply don't let your clients argue about paint and paper ahead of time?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he answered. “I explain to them – pleasantly – that they're wasting their time and money. That usually helps ease them out of that mode.”

Time To Ease Your Firm Out Of That Mode

Have you come to the mystical union of wisdom yet? Let me add one more eye-of-newt to this bubbling cauldron before we finish our recipe for drastic advertising change.

In most mature industries, advertising is the last step in a long marketing process. Hundreds of people and dozens of tasks are involved behind the scenes before advertising is even considered. And when ads are finally crafted, they fit in with every other part of the overall marketing program. They're not just “whipped up” for the sake of having something “out there.” Every ad has a specific purpose. In this way, the building metaphor of Ed's process is doubly appropriate. Placing ads without having completed the appropriate foundational marketing activities is like hanging wallpaper in a vacant, muddy lot.

My point is simply this ' I've seen too many firms where advertising is the big, ugly stick that is used to beat the marketing director out of his or her mind, out of “a seat at the table,” and, eventually, out the door. Lawyers don't speak the language of advertising, and trying to have the conversation always ends up landing the marketing director in a load of hurt. And to what end? So that we can have (at best) a great campaign that isn't even aligned with core marketing principles. You're killing yourself to start an argument that you can't win in order to set up a situation whose result will be ineffective because it's predicated on a bad process!

So here's what you do. Go to your budget and find out how much money is tagged for advertising next year. For our script, I'm going to use $125,000. Take that figure and schedule a 5-minute meeting with your managing partner. Sit down with him/her and say this:

“I'd like you to cut my budget by $125,000. That's what we've currently got booked for advertising next year. I don't think, in good conscience, we can continue to do any more advertising until we're prepared to do so in a manner that actually lines up with fundamentally sound, modern marketing principles.”

They'll think you're joking or bluffing. Show them the budget without the ad money in it. Tell them that advertising is one of the most fun and interesting things that marketers get to do, but that you'll stop doing it – for years if necessary – because it's just a waste of money to keep doing it this way.

At best, you'll start a real conversation about coherent, foundational marketing processes.

At least, you'll get to concentrate on work that won't get people mad at you. Either way, you have nothing to lose but your high blood pressure.

I have a confession to make: I am occasionally wrong. There. I've said it, and I can move on. I've heard that admitting you have a problem is the first step towards a cure, and so I'm well on the road to recovery. Now it's time for our industry to admit it has a problem and take a similar step towards wellness.

The Problem: Advertising

And it's not just that the ads are so freakishly bad. Some of them still are, but many are getting better. Higher quality production values, better copywriting, actual photographs instead of blatantly cheap-o clip art, etc. Some of you out there have been taking classes, hiring actual designers and working with agencies. I can tell. But the quality of the ads themselves isn't my chief beef.

Let me back up and bore you with two seemingly unrelated metaphorical tales, one taken from my college days and one from a friend who builds houses for a living. I promise they'll come together in a mystical union of wisdom that will have you running to edit your budget and winning major suck-up points with your management committee before the end of the year.

November 1987: Andy's Not Gettin' Any

Fall semester, senior year at Cornell. I asked Claire (not her real name, but how would you know), a nice young lady from my “History of World War I” class, if she'd like to see a movie sometime. She said, “Sure.” So we figured out a convenient time and walked down to the Ithaca Commons to see Woody Allen's “Radio Days.” I liked Woody Allen movies, as did she.

Here's the problem. Woody Allen movies, though mutually enjoyable, stimulate conversation. Lots of conversation. And conversation can stimulate disagreement, which can stimulate conflict, which can stimulate me walking home alone at 11:30 p.m. in the freezing cold.

What's the point? It's difficult to begin a relationship if the first thing you do together encourages quarreling.

Paint and Paper

My friend, Edward (not his real name … or is it?), builds houses for a living. He and his crew of six guys build three or four places a year. High quality stuff, always built to precise owner specifications. No cookie-cutter work for Ed. I asked him once if he had any good customer service rules or guidelines that could apply to other fields.

“Don't ever let people talk about paint and paper until after the foundation is laid,” he told me.

“Please elaborate,” I requested.

“You'll get people who want to get into all the piddly little design details about colors and swatches and fabric samples and wall paper and everything even before you've broken ground,” he explained. “And sometimes,” he continued, “they'll end up fighting so much about that stuff that they'll doom a job even before it really gets underway.”

“So you need to take care of first-things first,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Ed agreed. “Plus, lots of times things look very different after the actual walls are up. People have an idea in their head about something, but the reality is really different.”

“So you simply don't let your clients argue about paint and paper ahead of time?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he answered. “I explain to them – pleasantly – that they're wasting their time and money. That usually helps ease them out of that mode.”

Time To Ease Your Firm Out Of That Mode

Have you come to the mystical union of wisdom yet? Let me add one more eye-of-newt to this bubbling cauldron before we finish our recipe for drastic advertising change.

In most mature industries, advertising is the last step in a long marketing process. Hundreds of people and dozens of tasks are involved behind the scenes before advertising is even considered. And when ads are finally crafted, they fit in with every other part of the overall marketing program. They're not just “whipped up” for the sake of having something “out there.” Every ad has a specific purpose. In this way, the building metaphor of Ed's process is doubly appropriate. Placing ads without having completed the appropriate foundational marketing activities is like hanging wallpaper in a vacant, muddy lot.

My point is simply this ' I've seen too many firms where advertising is the big, ugly stick that is used to beat the marketing director out of his or her mind, out of “a seat at the table,” and, eventually, out the door. Lawyers don't speak the language of advertising, and trying to have the conversation always ends up landing the marketing director in a load of hurt. And to what end? So that we can have (at best) a great campaign that isn't even aligned with core marketing principles. You're killing yourself to start an argument that you can't win in order to set up a situation whose result will be ineffective because it's predicated on a bad process!

So here's what you do. Go to your budget and find out how much money is tagged for advertising next year. For our script, I'm going to use $125,000. Take that figure and schedule a 5-minute meeting with your managing partner. Sit down with him/her and say this:

“I'd like you to cut my budget by $125,000. That's what we've currently got booked for advertising next year. I don't think, in good conscience, we can continue to do any more advertising until we're prepared to do so in a manner that actually lines up with fundamentally sound, modern marketing principles.”

They'll think you're joking or bluffing. Show them the budget without the ad money in it. Tell them that advertising is one of the most fun and interesting things that marketers get to do, but that you'll stop doing it – for years if necessary – because it's just a waste of money to keep doing it this way.

At best, you'll start a real conversation about coherent, foundational marketing processes.

At least, you'll get to concentrate on work that won't get people mad at you. Either way, you have nothing to lose but your high blood pressure.