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…

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?

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.

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.

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 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.

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?

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.

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 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.