Pass the salt you hack…
How many times do you actually go to lunch with people from your team? Back when, I think my creative group ate out together almost every day. Often these were raucous affairs, with between 4 and 6 men crammed in a booth. Sometimes even more. They were not alcohol-fueled affairs, so no wine and roses nostalgia here. What I’m talking about is camaraderie in the creative department, with a lynch pin being the group lunch. In a way our noon sessions reminded me of the movie Diner, everyone busting each other’s chops, reiterating agency intrigue and debating the office beauties. If many of us were competing on a specific project at work, we were usually able to let all that go.
When assessing copywriters and art directors, I like to talk about the “creative athlete:” those men and women who are fit to create, execute and sell top quality work on a consistent basis. There’s a physical component to doing it well. In addition to being aware and smart one needs to be fit, suited-up, and ready to play. Group lunches played into that idea, fostering a corps de sprit that usually translated into better group dynamics and a better creative group in general. Lunch in lieu of the locker room.
Today a typical lunch for me consists of a quick bite at my desk. Not only am I eating less food I’m doing it alone and in a matter of minutes. When I do go out it is primarily to interview a job candidate or something similar.
Even if I still write copy (player), I’m primarily a creative director (coach). I get that I’m probably not supposed to hang out with my team anymore. After all, I’m the boss –the guy they want to talk about! I also know certain creative folk are solitary by nature. I possess that gene as well. Even so, I love it when I see my staff going out in packs, laughing as they pile into the elevators, heading for this diner or that bar. I think it’s a sign of a healthy creative department, if not a fit company.
Social media or social disease? Technology is transforming so fast sometimes it’s hard to tell.
May 27, 2009
The Twitter germ spreads among its followers!
Ad bloggers and the trade press are once again pummeling the topic of social media…
On Adpulp, David Burn grouses he’s being limited to selecting only 2,000 followers. (Apparently, the limit is in order to thwart spammers.) From the recent Clio awards, Ad Broad reviews a somewhat contentious debate about whether Twitter is even useful to marketers at all. (Apparently, a number of senior creative directors pooh-poohed it.) Reporting on AdAge.com, Ruben Steiger suggests, “Brands in social media should be like George Costanza…and just do the opposite of what is conventional.” (Apparently, treating social networks like TV networks is way bad.) Another George (that of Adscam) thinks Twitter is a piece of you-know-what. (Nothing “apparently” about that!)
So, is Twitter like some foul pest, having recently been introduced and now breeding out of control? Or is it the second coming? My opinion: It’s both! Yes, Twitter is here to stay… only not for long. Far from going extinct, it will evolve into another form, just like one of Michael Bay’s crazy transformers. Debating its virtues only speeds the process up. And that’s as it should be. It sounds oxymoronic, but in 2009 things can be temporary and vital at the same time.
Since the advent of TV and computers, the evolution of technology has been nothing short of explosive. What was science fiction 20 years ago is now mass=produced. It’s one new new thing after another. And while the previous iterations die off (pay phones and landlines for example) their DNA lives on in the ubiquitous cell phone.
With convergence, the Transformers metaphor is even more telling. Indeed, your cell phone can do almost anything. There’s “an ‘app’ for that.” Likewise, advertising has to transform.
Back up for a moment. You Tube hasn’t killed TV and film but one wonders how many different screens people need or want moving forward. And, given that answer, which, if any, of these screens will tolerate advertising? Ironically, it appears the oldest form of advertising (the outdoor sign) will be around forever…though clearly not as vinyl. More screens! Digital billboards. Transformation.
In the ad industry, we keep trying to shape these myriad transformations so we can sell the lightning to our clients. We call it integration. Problem is we don’t understand transforming technology any better than the average teen-ager. Why not just go with the flow? Treat all media (mass, social & hybrids) as if they are temporary and vital as opposed to one or the other.
Calling the kettle black: Friends and Followers, I’m on Twitter and Facebook!
Adweek reports advertising revenue for radio has suffered its worst quarter ever. Obviously, this does not speak well of our industry’s overall health. But the precipitous drop in revenue means my absolute least favorite form of advertising is closer to death. It won’t die, of course, but maybe there will be less of it. One can only hope.
I know I am an anomaly for being both a copywriter and a despiser of radio advertising. I make no bones about it. Frankly, I’ve written about the matter before. I wasn’t always this way. As a novice copywriter I bought into the idea that nothing tests our mettle better than a good radio assignment. It’s just you and the brief. Our words mean so much more, the myth suggests. I won’t dispute the theory but unfortunately it is theory. In reality, most radio assignments are fairly monotonous, either a cheap derivative of the advertiser’s national TV campaign or, worse yet, a local sales pitch.
Off the top of my head I can think of no brand that actually built itself on the radio. Bud Light could make an argument for their “Real men of Genius” campaign. Lord knows it has won countless awards, including the very biggest like Cannes, Andy and the One Show. Yes, the work is consistently funny, if not long in the tooth, but I’d argue the main reason it’s considered so good is because everything else on the radio is so bad.
And clichéd. How many spots feature a smartass wife interacting with her dumbshit husband? It’s like they are the only two characters allowed on the radio. Shrinks and their patients would be a close second. So much for the limitless possibilities, eh?
Mostly radio is just a lot of screaming and yelling. Nothing irks me more than the incessant caterwauling. Prices and phone numbers and web sites, oh my! Here is also the last bastion of singing copy. Worse than jingles (plenty of those as well), singing copy is essentially the tone deaf warbling of what’s being sold.
That radio ads are relentless and interruptive only aggravates me further. Talk radio can be a guilty pleasure but the amount of commercial filler often exceeds the airtime of the talent. I am not exaggerating. Listen to ESPN some morning. If they didn’t have Sports Center updates every 20 minutes I’d get to work knowing more about Cialis than the Cubbies.
No surprise I’ve written few campaigns in the medium. All sucked, save one: a delightful satire of A&E’s Biography for Art.com. In that campaign, I was able to use Peter Grave’s iconic voice and have some fun with art history.
Currently, my agency uses radio to sell certain new items from Potbelly Sandwich Works. In keeping with the brand, they are quirky and folksy. I don’t hate them. But I must concede that this is due to how much I adore Potbelly. No submarine floats my boat like Potbelly!
A good friend of mine specializes in writing and producing radio advertising: Bart Radio in Seattle. The guy’s very good at what he does and I love working with him. Every time we have collaborated I’ve opened the brief by saying let’s try hard not to make this one suck. Easier said than done. That’s radio.
Next stop, my living room.
I’d been admiring Joseph Spangler’s work for many years, after happening upon a show at Sternberg Galleries in the Drake Hotel. Then I was smitten but reluctant to pay Michigan Avenue prices. Why I did so now, during an economic crisis, I’ve no idea. Once again, I’d found myself perusing the artist’s online gallery. Many times I’d flirted there before. In a way, the site had become like an escort service, tempting me into fantasy. Today my obsession got the better of me.
While Spangler lived in Chicago he painted Chicago, capturing my city like few do, with expressionism and realism, which happens to be the way I see it, and have seen it, since childhood.
Despite Mayor Daley’s amazing efforts at beautification –the flowers and trees, Millennium Park, and more- it’s still the City of Big Shoulders: raw and red-bricked, of bungalows and squat police stations. The “El” trains rattle over and under it like so many metallic snakes. The Chicago River has actual fish in it now (a miracle) but it’s still the same artery that once caught fire from pollution. On St. Patrick’s Day they die it puke green.
These are the colors of Chicago. And of Spangler’s palette.
Besides the artist’s fascination with cityscapes, their light and color, and public transportation he also had an uncanny way of isolating people within these desolate landscapes. Like Hopper, the artist captured people in repose; they are inured by their bleak surroundings, not threatened but not happy, alone but not lonely.
I know this sounds like art-school rambling; it is. But that’s the reason for art, isn’t it? So that we can get lost in it, seeing our world and ourselves in our own particular way. The artist “gets it” we rejoice, often privately, and therefore gets us.
Buying art has always seemed reckless to me, during boon or bust. I’ve never understood the exorbitant prices a canvas of oil commands. Subsequently, the many paintings in my “collection” were found in junk stores and flea markets. They are turn-of-the-century still-lives done by bored Victorian housewives and lesser students. I call them junk masterpieces. Very few, if any, have a pedigree. What they do have is a story and deep meaning. At once random and wonderful, they will now welcome a couple heavyweights into their midst, at least by my standards. I think we are ready.
Take it for a test drive!
I saved an article from the Chicago Tribune’s business section (Gregory Karp, May 3rd) about “weaknesses” in consumer behavior. In it, Karp reports studies being done by the University of Wisconsin and a few observations published in the Journal of Consumer Research. The findings are both obvious and startling, probably because they’re true. Check it out.
Even when consumers think they are utilizing sound thinking they’re not. For example, if consumers see a punch list of attributes next to a product they immediately assume it’s better. Therefore, advertisers need only attach a slew of benign facts to their wares to imply superiority and justify higher prices. We see this all the time. Go to Home Depot. The higher priced lawn mowers have the most specs. The same phenomenon occurs online.
Touch equals sales. Karp points out, “When consumers handle a product, they begin to feel ownership of it.” We all know what happens next. Impulse purchasing. Or we obsess about the product, imagining if only we’d bought it, until we do. Test-driving vehicles is probably the most famous example of touching equaling sales. Apple stores do a pretty good job of it as well.
This is my favorite learning: Research shows that people loathe breaking large bills. Conversely, we will happily fritter away quarters and one-dollar bills. The studies suggest that if you’re trying to save money carry large denominations. I know when I have a “hun” in my wallet it tends to stay there longer than its younger brothers. On the other hand, if I’d left the hundred in the bank it would have probably lasted even longer.
Finally, this old chestnut: people pay the most attention to the left digit in an item’s price. In case you hadn’t figured it out, this is what drives the ubiquitous 99 cents suffix. We’ll fork over $3.99 far more often than $4.00. Silly us.
Granted, some of this info feels vintage, circa sex-in-the-ice-cubes, but all of it is vital. These observations defeat the old notion, once and for all, that consumers make purchases based on facts and rational thinking. What’s funny is few of us are invulnerable. I know I’m not. And I should know better, right? How about you?
Less is more in advertising
If you thought the now-infamous Red House Furniture commercial was controversial and bizarre (it was) wait until you watch this little ditty from Argentina. It does to boy/girl what Red House did to black/white. I don’t want to play spoiler but this seemingly innocuous bank commercial takes a gender-bending turn that, frankly, is an absolute first in the annals of advertising. Take a look and then let’s come back for discussion.
Aye Carumba! Dude look like a lady! Or is it the other way around? It isn’t necessarily the topic that shocks us… but in a bank commercial? And what’s more remarkable is how perfectly straight (no pun intended) they play it. Produced with utter sincerity, it is identical to a Hallmark card commercial.
The plot is ripe with subtext! Who is Mr. Lopez – brother, former boss, best friend? What did he to the hero(ine) that required making an apology? And what about the gift he gives to her? A porcelain ballerina, it must be symbolic of something, perhaps little girl fantasies finally being realized?
The tagline attempts to make sense of it all: “Your life changes when your bank is disposed to change.” So, let’s see if we got this right. Banco Provincia is advertising its progressive policies with regard to lending by giving a loan to a transvestite. Conceding the bank’s corporate heart is in the right place, why on earth does a person’s sexual orientation or body type matter when providing a loan? As long as clients have collateral what’s the difference? Sure, banks are historically conservative but not to money. On the other hand, if the bank had given him/her a loan in order to have a sex change that would at least represent open-mindedness with regard to lending money. But in this spot the lady opens a hair salon.
I think this commercial is weird. I can’t imagine writing or approving it. Still, you have to give it points for chutzpa. In a macho nation like Argentina, it took “balls” to make a spot like this.
Note: Special thanks to Adpulp for finding this commercial.
Online motives are deceiving
The more I know about digital marketing and communications the more I realize how important motive is.
In the olden days (say 10 years ago), most everyone could cipher the motive behind an ad. Whether it was moving products off the shelf or building brands or both, the intended audience always understood the motive. It was selling. Back then we might call something a hard or soft sell but no one was in denial about its motive. Nor were we particularly upset about it. Consumers understood the reason they got TV for free and paid only nominal fees for newspapers and magazines was on account of the ads. We understood their motive. We accepted the deal.
New deal. And it already has many liens on it. Consumers are balking left and right. They are questioning motive in the communications they receive. And rightly so. Online, advertisers are abusing their privileges. And it isn’t just one or two culprits; we are all guilty to some degree. We influence (pay) bloggers to discuss (sell) products. We use Twitter to attract and herd consumers. We create Facebook pages for brands. We leak films on the Internet. Our new briefs are about starting conversations. Influencing popular culture. Creating fame.
The problem is that all of the above still has one primary purpose: selling. And yet that motive is now hidden, imbedded or disguised. People think they are having an online conversation when, in fact, they are being duped into a sale. People are frustrated because they are being manipulated if not lied to.
It is increasingly hard to tell the difference between the message and the messenger. Facebook and My Space were not supposed to be commercial. But with My Space selling music and Facebook touting brands social networks are starting to look a lot like Walmart. And bloggers, the epitome of personal opinion and fierce independence, are all but begging to be paid to write.
Here’s where it gets tricky. After all, laws aren’t being broken. In some respects it’s hard to blame content providers. Bloggers gotta eat. The more they commit to their blogs the more they need revenue from somewhere. And advertisers recognize the potential. In this light the question is not how collusion could happen but how could it not?
Lest I be accused of calling the kettle black I, too, have muddied the waters. Not only have I pimped my novel, The Happy Soul Industry (even now!) I have also used this forum to talk about my agency, in theory making it more attractive. In addition, I sent my novel to other bloggers, hoping for and getting reviews.
Whether that’s good or bad is not altogether knowable. Who’s to say? But I do think having and presenting a clear motive online (if not everywhere) is a significant step in the right direction.
Naked men tortured in gym by dancing lesbian!
May 13, 2009
Excuse me, Ellen but this is the men’s locker room.
There’s a health club in the basement of our agency, of which I am a thankful member. It’s super convenient, inexpensive no-frills place to work the bagels out of your butt and the office politics from your head.
Lately, my favorite time to work out has been around 3 PM, after the lunch crowd is gone. That way I get back to the office at 4PM, feeling revitalized and inspired. It’s kind of like creating a second 10AM vibe toward the end of the day.
Here’s the problem. In the men’s locker room the TVs are always playing soap operas and female oriented talk shows. Loudly. Annoying by any measure but in a men’s locker room? Needless to say, the sets are mounted too high to turn off.
Come 3 o’clock it’s the Ellen DeGeneres Show. Nothing says good workout like a middle-aged lesbian dancing to pop music. Back in the day I liked Ellen. I thought her sitcom with Jeremy Piven was better than most. I even applauded her coming out. But this talk show thing? In terms of vest-wearing lesbian star-schmoozers wasn’t Rosie enough? Why do the women in her audience shriek so much and for so long? It’s a talk show, for Christ’s sake. A few jokes. A few guests. The turbo-charged laugh track to Icarli (I have three daughters don’t get me started.) is less painful.
Folks, I’ve witnessed naked men throwing jocks at Ellen during her trademarked opening dance.
Apparently the TVs in the men’s locker room are connected to the women’s so we watch what they watch, like it or not. For whatever reason, regardless of complaints (and thrown underwear), the girlie programming wins out every effen day.
Unfair and annoying but that is my reality. Ellen has watched me undress for over a year.
Relevance here? A vague lesson is bad targeting. But mostly it’s an opportunity for me to vent. OMG! Venting? I’m turning into a bored mom.
Cain & Abel -Even for kids it’s still murder.
As most of you know, I recently wrote a novel about God and advertising. Maybe you’ve read The Happy Soul Industry; thank you very much. For those that haven’t -What are you waiting for -hell to freeze over? (Forgive that cliche’, however appropriate.)
So I was reading to my little girls last night before bed. We chose the Illustrated Children’s Bible, a text that was given to them last week at Sunday school.
“In the beginning God created heaven and earth,” reads that most famous of opening lines. A few more sentences in, “God said, ‘Let there be light.’” Have all of you read the Bible? The opening copy is pretty terrific. Unfortunately, the text grows clunky and wearisome and, almost as if to alleviate the boredom, horrifyingly violent. Within four pages, Cain murders his only brother, his “blood staining the earth.”
Dull and/or horrifying does not a good bedtime story make. I made an executive decision and switched from The Children’s Illustrated Bible to a book about dogs. This the children sparked to. Plus, I was reasonably sure a cavalcade of preening puppies would not give my children nightmares…not like that scary Bible.
In The Happy Soul Industry, God reasons the Bible too old fashioned and violent, which inspires Her (in my novel God is a She) to seek out an advertising agency ostensibly for new copy. That, more or less, is the premise of The Happy Soul Industry. It was odd, then, to experience my own children recoiling from the Bible. The God in my novel is right! The Old Testament is archaic. If God and Heaven are to be considered by new generations then a new campaign is in order.
Anyway, file this under art imitating life. And while you’re at it why not drag a copy of the novel in your Amazon shopping cart? The link is below.
God bless!
People Story: Principal pulls gun on her maid.
The following is not meant to be an indictment on Victoria Principal or even celebrities in general, per se. Nor am I making comment on societies fascination with celebrities, per se. I also don’t have an agenda regarding pets, our attachments to them, or handgun ownership, or frivolous lawsuits per se.
But a recent story involving Mrs. Principal, her maid, her dog, a handgun and a pair of lawsuits bears notice because it involves all of the above. It’s the perfect pop culture storm! So many hot buttons are being pushed in this silly tale I just couldn’t leave it alone.
For the unawares, apparently Principal pulled a gun on her maid for treating her pet dog badly during its afternoon walk. They got into it. The police were called. And now the two are suing each other. Other nonsensical details are contained in the attached People magazine article.
Who cares? Maybe everyone. The aggregations of controversy make this a revelation in terms of where we’re at as a society, which is why I’m writing about it now. Let’s break it down.
1. Starting with Victoria Principal. A C-list celebrity, she used to be a hottie on a prime time soap opera. In her day she was the brunette version of Farrah-Fawcett Majors. Now, at 59, she’s more or less the embodiment of a California cougar. A perfect heroine for a sordid modern tale.
2. The Maid. Hired help. A minority. An indentured servant; is she legal? Was she being treated fairly? The Maid is the perfect victim for a sordid modern tale.
3. The Dog. America loves to debate the virtues of pet ownership. But have we taken it too far? Are pets really like children? Are they worth pulling a gun over? The pet then, is the perfect innocent for a sordid modern tale.
4. The Gun. What is Victoria Principal even doing with one? What are any of us doing with one? Pulling a pistol to settle a domestic dispute is the perfect plot point for a sordid modern tale.
5. The Lawsuits. Oh, how we love to sue! Next to guns, nothing settles a domestic dispute like a good lawyer. Clearly, the maid sees dollar signs. Certainly, Victoria will be vindicated. Obviously, the truth has nothing to do with any of it.
6. California. No need to elaborate. L.A. is the perfect location for a sordid modern tale.
Laywers. Guns. Money. Sex. Race. Celebrity. Police. Even pets. A veritable cornucopia of swoon! People magazine, Us Weekly and countless other tabloids are filled with the stuff, I know. But this particular story struck me as quintessential. Enhanced even more by its superfluous superficiality. In other words: dumb.
Whoops, gotta go. Real Housewives of New Jersey is on. People gave it four stars.
