Can Facebook Fall?

What if I said, for the sake of argument, that the lifecycle of the average Facebook user is two years? Two years covers the 6 months of the novelty of Friend list-building, another 12 months of the novelty of commenting and sharing and trying to be clever with status updates, and another 6 months of messing around with apps like FarmTown? Then, at around that two-year mark, you realize that this is all a waste of time, that you don’t communicate with 90% of the people on your friend list, and you go back to emailing, texting and (gasp!) calling the people you actually want to keep in touch with.

A two-year lifecycle for Facebook would mean that by the end of 2010, a huge percentage of Facebook users would start to trail off. And then in 2011, another massive percentage will follow suit. (I’m not saying they’ll delete their accounts or won’t check in now and then. I simply mean they will cease to be “active users” the way they once were.)

Just throwing this out as a what-if. We seem to believe that, because Facebook is the size of a nation, that it has the stability of one. But the viewing audience of American Idol has been the size of its own nation in the past too — with just as much hype and chatter and addiction surrounding it. But predictably, American Idol is fading. It’s not going away yet, but it’s imaginable.

I’m not suggesting that Facebook is going away either. But to me, it’s reminding me of the neighborhood pub that’s lost its charm. What was once a simple, quiet place to hang out with friends has become a sea of bathroom ads, pinball machines and bar fights. You can still get a drink and enjoy a conversation, but you have to dodge a lot of crap to do it.

Still climbing the tree.

And will report on how it’s going soon. Sort of forgot about the personal blog thing. But won’t for long.

This tree.

As one of the lucky few (and I mean that) who are in a traditional agency at just the right time to help shape how we react to the freight train of change that is all-things-Digital, I’m grappling with issues that I know aren’t foreign to, or solved by, my counterparts elsewhere.

How do we staff? How do we balance the intrinsic need for conceptual creative excellence with the need for technological brilliance with the need for a complete measurement mindset with the need for the nimbleness to react quickly.

This ain’t your Daddy’s ad agency model we’re talking about.

But what if that’s where your roots are? If you’re an apple tree, can you become an orange tree? Can you start sprouting apples AND oranges? Or do you just need to plant a new tree?

We’ve made incredible strides. But the end game is still elusive.

I’m off to climb the tree again…

Could the Social Boom bust?

This video, if you haven’t seen it already (and you probably have), makes an incredible case for the sea-change that is social media. Take a look if it’s news to you.

Great video. Can’t deny how much engagement there is.

The concern I have is rooted in my memory of the dot-com boom, when everyone (and I mean everyone — economists, professors, business gurus) claimed that company valuations would forever be changed by focusing on profit potential rather than actual profit. It was universally viewed as a Revolution. Until the model crashed and burned after 3 years or so.

There’s no question that the train has left the station for good when it comes to consumer empowerment. What it’s going to look like, long term, is harder to grapple with. Because whether the social media landscape we’ve come to love today (Twitter, Facebook, etc.) transforms into a true revolution will be determined by whether profit potential can turn into actual profit.

Facebook is not profitable. Neither is Twitter.

There’s no stopping the online conversations consumers are having. But a high % of those conversations are happening via tools that are currently free. Will they always be free? And if not, where will the conversations go? And will we even be willing to pay to have them?

UPDATE: Creative Malnutrition Among MBAs

The good news: the senior manager who insisted that the worst thing we can do is ask consumers to think is leaving the company. Maybe this person’s former brand will now engage consumers as if they are real, thinking humans.

The bad news: said senior manager is headed to another big brand, which can look forward to a fresh wave of communications that don’t communicate much of anything.

The cost of a dent.

For years I’ve rented from the same Enterprise location — probably a dozen times over the last 6+ years. They’re always as friendly as can be. How are you, Mr. Levy. How has your day been, Mr. Levy. Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Levy. Big smiles. Big handshakes. Frankly, a bit too much syrup for my taste. But I’ll take it.

I had the inconvenience of needing to rent a car there twice in the last two weeks. They laid it on thicker than usual both times — down economy equals ultra-cheery salesmanship I suppose. But again, I can grin and bear excruciating happiness among strangers as long as it doesn’t last too long.

I returned my car at the end of the 2nd rental period and they did their usual walk-around. But this time — for the first time in the 12 or so years I’ve been renting cars — they found something. They called me out and pointed out a dent in the rear bumper. I present Exhibit A, a 3-inch minor dent with a hairline of cracked paint:

Now — I certainly wasn’t there when that 3″ dent appeared. Perhaps it happened while I was parked somewhere. (I have a theory that they hose down the car just before you rent it so you’re less likely to see imperfections — like this one — when you do your initial walk around. But lacking proof, I’ll hold off on launching the Dry My Rental campaign I’ve been scheming.)

I can honestly say that from a few feet away, you wouldn’t know there was a dent at all. And in the grand scheme of the dozens of other little nicks and dents on the car, this one was no more significant. If it had happened to my own car, I wouldn’t think much of it.

But I’m not Enterprise. They thought a LOT of it. And this is where a dent becomes far more damaging than the damage itself.

Per Enterprise’s policy, instead of being charged $190 for the rental, I was also charged the amount of my auto insurance deductible: $1000. $1000 for a petty dent. I was not happy with this development. I was very clear with them that I was not happy with this development. But all of the friendly “Mr. Levys” were now replaced with stern, unbending looks of corporate rule brokers.

Granted, this bumper won’t cost $1000 to repair, so I’ll get money back. And with my killer Amex coverage, I’ll probably get it all back. But that’s not the point.

The point is that all the smiles in the world don’t erase poor customer service when the customer needs it most. And that was the moment of truth:

“Do I lay down the law on a marginal bumper repair that’ll cost a couple hundred bucks, or do I protect our relationship with a customer who spends a couple hundred bucks with us several times a year?”

Given the cost of getting a new customer versus that of keeping an old one, they made a choice that will end up being more expensive for them than for me. The bumper will sure look pretty, though.

Creative malnutrition among MBAs

My left- and right-brained worlds collided in epic form a few days ago.

I shared work to a client team of brand management folks at a well known consumer product company. And though I knew none of them beforehand, I immediately recognized each one the minute I started presenting.

These were MBAs.

MBAs who concentrated in marketing and then moved directly to a consumer brand company. And who therefore, bless them, haven’t processed marketing messages like real-life human beings in years. Maybe decades.

On one hand, it’s impossible to argue with their company’s success; it’s had a whole lot of it. And a history of some great ad campaigns too.

But…

When I hear a client say (in reaction to headlines that maybe would require the reader to spend two seconds for the ‘aha!’ rather than one), and I quote, “we never want the consumer to have to think,” I shudder. These weren’t math equations I was proposing. Just turns of phrase and some clever metaphors.

It begs a retelling of the great David Ogilvy’s Hall of Fame quote: “The consumer isn’t a moron; she is your wife.”

I sat through many marketing classes as an MBA candidate. And I had scores of cringe-worthy moments when fellow students — whose careers in accounting, banking, finance and consulting made them a gathering of the least creative minds that God could assemble — would try to rationalize advertising campaigns, often at the encouragement of their professors, and always at the bewilderment of yours truly.

No matter how many great ideas these classmates of mine saw, they didn’t get it. Everything was squeezed through this bizarre, hyper-critical filter that parsed each idea to smithereens. But then off they went into the marketing world, never getting it.

Never getting that consumers don’t parse each idea to smithereens.

Never getting that you have to give them a reason to care about you. Always. Even more so if it’s a crowded category and you’re a late entrant. (Which was the case in my experience this week.)

Never getting that consumers aren’t sitting idly by, praying that Brand X give them yet another choice in Product Category Y.

Never getting that consumers aren’t fools.

Whether it’s a giggle, a surprise, a tear — something other than “I have a product and I say it’s great, so go buy it.”

It amazes me that this is still a debatable premise.

Asking consumers to think a little isn’t the worst thing that can happen. Giving them no compelling reason to think about you absolutely is.

I’m checking out of the Hilton.

I have never been shy to admit my guilty Perez Hilton pleasure. Something about the simplicity of  digitally-drawn white drips off the corner of a lame-brained starlet’s mouth tapped directly into my love for seeing most Hollywood types for what they really are: self-important and out of touch with reality.

Ironic and sad, then, that Perez has become an overnight embodiment of the same. And to the extent that having a broad audience matters to him, he’s now severely damaged his brand. (If mass appeal is not important to him — and that’s his prerogative — then the argument is moot.)

The Miss USA controversy requires no detailed rehashing. Miss California’s position on gay marriage is hardly surprising — it’s shared by the majority of her state, the majority of America, and, for now, by the President himself.

No surprise, either, that Hilton disagreed with her. (For the record, so do I.)

And sadly, in the current media climate, it’s also not surprising that her awkward condemnation of gay marriage would be vilified 24/7, as if she’d suggested that the world is flat, the moon is made of cheese or American Idol isn’t fixed.

What IS surprising is that Hilton has, with the Miss USA episode, revealed himself as exactly the kind of blowhard, classless celebrity he’s made a living attacking. And it’s a shame. It’s not that Perez has been immune to controversy; he’s often creating it. But normally it’s for others — he’s on the outside looking in, smartly opining on how the Hollywood circle should look, dress, act and speak. Or more often, how they shouldn’t. That’s where the honesty, charm and humor of Perez Hilton shines brightest.

With the Miss USA incident, he’s taken his brand away from its core competency. When he agrees to be a pageant judge, asks a controversial question, and upon receiving a controversial answer calls her a bitch for days on end, he reveals himself to be exactly the kind of lame-brained Hollywood elitist that most of America cannot relate to, whether they agree with his cause or not.

I support gay marriage. And it is exactly for that reason that I find myself not supporting Perez. Equal rights in this country have never been won on the backs of those who believe the road to that equality is paved with petty name-calling. Intelligence generally wins. But in this case, there hasn’t been much of that on display from Mr. Hilton.

So sorry, Perez. I’ve been a huge fan of your blog for years. Have even advocated for my clients to advertise there. But until you grow up, I’m checking out.

Super Bowl Crickets

I’m not going to comment on the spots. Lord knows if you want to read critiques, you have more than enough pundits to choose from, online and off. My question is as simple as it is unscientific: did you buy anything from the companies that advertised. Did you buy more of a product you already bought, or did you switch to a new brand because of something they did during their Super Bowl commercial. Is your buying behavior going to change in any way whatsoever? In other words, did the ads matter?

Maybe once upon a time, when there were so few mass media vehicles to choose from, whether the advertising “worked” was a more amorphous issue. It was more about presence than relevance. But in this day and age, can that still be right? Me thinks not. It’s one thing if the spot serves as a conduit to a larger, loyalty-driving experience. But with the rare exception, these spots don’t do that. Most are “hey look at me” spots.

OK, you got me. I see you. But do I like you? Am I ready to give you my money or my recommendation or my email address and credit card number?

Or does all this mean only that in the midst of a beer-n-chips-n-queso-n-guac-n-football-induced coma, you gave me 30 seconds of quasi entertainment in a sea of other 30-second moments of quasi entertainment.

Money well spent? You tell me. Have you spent any in return?

Name that arena.

Quick. Name the brands you most identify with the City of Atlanta. Coca-Cola. Delta. Home Depot. UPS. CNN. SunTrust.

Try for some more. How about Southern Company. Georgia Pacific. Rubbermaid. Chick-fil-A.

Come on. A few more. You can do it. Turner. Orkin. Intercontinental. The Weather Channel.

Good. Now what company’s brand name is on Atlanta’s professional sports arena?

Philips. As in Philips Electronics. 

Is Philips headquartered in Atlanta? Uh, I don’t think so. But seriously. Are they? I Googled them and there’s an address here for their consumer electronics division. I guess that’s a good reason to pay $182 million over 20 years to have their name all over the building the Hawks, Thrashers and Miley Cyrus play in. Yet if you ask the average Atlantan to name the companies native to their city, Philips probably wouldn’t even warrant a check-mark next to its name on a list of choices.

Arena, stadium and amphitheater naming rights are fascinating to me. I have to believe that some brands do it right. And by “right,” I mean doing more than bolting their logo to the outside of the building. If Philips makes Atlanta home, it’s news to most Atlantans. And that, to me, is $182 million poorly spent.

Oh, nine.

A blog without blog entries is like a Pez dispenser without Pez. Some people collect Pez dispensers and don’t seem to care if there is any Pez inside. But most of us don’t. And we think those people are strange.

BrainPong hasn’t had any candy inside for several months. But that was 2008. This year will be far more delicious.

The NYT proving its own irrelevance.

The irony of this image struck me in the context of the wasteland of suffering American newspapers. That is, who cares if the New York Times rejected McCain’s editorial? Is this not on the scale of Springsteen deciding he would no longer distribute his music on cassette tapes?

Don’t worry. I understand the historical importance of the Times as an editorial town square, albeit a one-sided one. To be relevant in today’s political scene, there’s still an intellectual cachet to their OpEd page, and therefore, isn’t to be ignored. Plus, the Times has done a relatively good job with their content online, which means that a word printed on their paper is more likely that those in other papers to become part of the digital news landscape

But really. Let’s take the liberal bent of the Times out of the conversation for a moment (even though doing so ignores what should have been obvious to the editorial board — that is, McCain’s piece would get far more attention for its exclusion than it ever would have were it included in the first place.) No, the real issue here is that newspapers just aren’t necessary to distribute a point of view. Readers of the New York Times — at least those who would care to read a McCain editorial — will be reading 15 other sources over the course of the week, and none will be printed on newsprint. His words would get out one way or another. Why not have your masthead above them?

The Times doesn’t have all the news that’s fit to print any more. And because of it, they’ve officially lost their power to decide what’s news and what isn’t. The market will decide, and other media will deliver. If the last 24 hours of Drudge is any indication (14 million readers), the market decided they wanted to read what McCain had to say.

The dreaded testimonial.

Like most creatives, I hear the word “testimonial” and want to drown myself in the nearest toilet. But then I see things like this, and have to believe there’s something to it. Now granted, this isn’t selling anything. And maybe that’s the difference. No one minds listening to real people tell a story. But listening to real people tell a story about, say, Kiwi shoe polish? No thank you. So is there a way to sell something in a more disarming testimonial context? There must be. I just don’t recall seeing it. While you ponder whether you have, you’ll enjoy this. Especially if you’re married, but even if you’re not.

from drawn.ca posted with vodpod

Stealin’ Godin.

I’m not opposed to stealing. Especially when what I’m stealing is easily and humbly attributable. Which this is. By all means, if you need a daily fix of marketing smarts, bookmark or RSS sethgodin.typepad.com. And now, here’s Seth:

What Every Good Marketer Knows:

• Anticipated, personal and relevant advertising always does better than unsolicited junk.

• Making promises and keeping them is a great way to build a brand.

• Your best customers are worth far more than your average customers.

• Share of wallet is easier, more profitable and ultimately more effective a measure than share of market.

• Marketing begins before the product is created.

• Advertising is just a symptom, a tactic. Marketing is about far more than that.

• Low price is a great way to sell a commodity. That’s not marketing, though, that’s efficiency.

• Conversations among the members of your marketplace happen whether you like it or not. Good marketing encourages the right sort of conversations.

• Products that are remarkable get talked about.

• Marketing is the way your people answer the phone, the typesetting on your bills and your returns policy.

• You can’t fool all the people, not even most of the time. And people, once unfooled, talk about the experience.

• If you are marketing from a fairly static annual budget, you’re viewing marketing as an expense. Good marketers realize that it is an investment.

• People don’t buy what they need. They buy what they want.

• You’re not in charge. And your prospects don’t care about you.

• What people want is the extra, the emotional bonus they get when they buy something they love.

• Business to business marketing is just marketing to consumers who happen to have a corporation to pay for what they buy.

• Traditional ways of interrupting consumers (TV ads, trade show booths, junk mail) are losing their cost-effectiveness. At the same time, new ways of spreading ideas (blogs, permission-based RSS information, consumer fan clubs) are quickly proving how well they work.

• People all over the world, and of every income level, respond to marketing that promises and delivers basic human wants.

• Good marketers tell a story.

• People are selfish, lazy, uninformed and impatient. Start with that and you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you find.

• Marketing that works is marketing that people choose to notice.

• Effective stories match the worldview of the people you are telling the story to.

• Choose your customers. Fire the ones that hurt your ability to deliver the right story to the others.

• A product for everyone rarely reaches much of anyone.

• Living and breathing an authentic story is the best way to survive in an conversation-rich world.

• Marketers are responsible for the side effects their products cause.

• Reminding the consumer of a story they know and trust is a powerful shortcut.

• Good marketers measure.

• Marketing is not an emergency. It’s a planned, thoughtful exercise that started a long time ago and doesn’t end until you’re done.

• One disappointed customer is worth ten delighted ones.

• In the googleworld, the best in the world wins more often, and wins more.

• Most marketers create good enough and then quit. Greatest beats good enough every time.

• There are more rich people than ever before, and they demand to be treated differently.

• Organizations that manage to deal directly with their end users have an asset for the future.

• You can game the social media in the short run, but not for long.

• You market when you hire and when you fire. You market when you call tech support and you market every time you send a memo.

• Blogging makes you a better marketer because it teaches you humility in your writing.

• Obviously, knowing what to do is very, very different than actually doing it.

The gaseous erosion of trust.

I pulled into a gas station this morning to spend half my life’s savings on 17 gallons of unleaded. There, taped to the front of the pump, was a little piece of paper announcing that the machine’s credit card reader was broken. “No problem,” thought I. “I’ll push this little button that says “Credit Inside,” fill ‘er up, and go in and pay when I’m done. How naive.

I hear a voice, muffled, through a speaker hidden somewhere on the pump. “Pump 15, the credit card reader isn’t working.” “I see that.” “Would you like to pay cash or credit inside?” “Credit.” “You’ll need to come in and prepay.” “No, I’ll need to go to another gas station.” And that’s exactly what Pump 15 did.

What that person basically said was, “Dear customer who’s been filling up at this gas station for six years, I don’t trust you.” The problem is, I’m not among the .01% of people who think they can get away with pumping gas without paying. But by making me and everyone else follow rules designed for that particular .01% of people, the gas station makes us not only inconvenienced, but presumed guilty of thieverous tendencies. And that’s just too much to be accused of before I’ve had a cup of coffee on a Monday morning. So I found a perfectly pleasant Pump 6 about a mile down the road.