Dizzy Dean was fond of saying about himself, “It ain’t bragging if it’s the truth,” which is fine if you’re Dizzy Dean and the truth is an approximate thing, like the distance from here to Buckwheat after a couple shots of moonshine.
It's not so fine if you’re a conservative, button-down organization in a mature market talking about yourself – which is about 95 percent of all organizations when it comes to talking about themselves.
I don’t know but I’ve found that when it comes to discussing anything they do on any level most organizations are as skilled as a 15-year-old boy with a speech impediment and a weak chin, who takes piano lessons and advanced-placement classes, is on a first-name basis with several minor anime characters, and whose defining moment in life was when he stumbled upon his dad’s Joy Division tapes.
Because organizations are so awkwardly bad at talking about themselves, they take a step most 15-year-old boys would never do: They hire someone else to talk for them.
Imagine how that could change the delicate bashfulness of first crushes. Instead of making a tentative advance toward the retainered, oboe-playing 15-year-old English-class-mate of his dreams our hero hires, oh, Justin Timberlake to do the talking for him.
The trouble is that when Justin Timberlake talks the oboe player melts, and you can't do anything with a melted oboe player, believe me.
About this time too the 15-year-old thinks, "Man, I've got Justin Timberlake doing the talking for me. I don't need to settle for an oboe player. I could get, you know, Miranda Cosgrove." So Justin Timberlake goes and talks to Miranda Cosgrove on behalf of Mr. Joy Division and she goes along with him because she thinks she's getting Justin Timberlake, but when she finds out what she's actually getting instead of Justin Timberlake she splits, leaving our hero with no Justin Timberlake, no Miranda Cosgrove, and a melted oboe player. And a bill for $8.9 million.
What a waste. See, the anime fan really needs to be with the (unmelted) oboe player. They belong together, lest they make two otherwise innocent people unhappy. The only thing that has to happen to set off skyrockets is for him to talk to her, awkward as it may be, about what he likes about her, because -- and he may be the only person in the world who can say this -- he really likes her. And she may be the only person in the world who really likes him, and she's willing to say that, too ... but he has to say it first.
This sound like anything out of modern-day marketing? No? Not the dialogue everyone claims to want between the owner of a brand and the purchaser of a brand?
Yeah, it is, actually. The most important dialogue in marketing right now is the one between the owner of a brand or product and its purchasers and consumers. And it's a dialogue that does not need to be besmirched by the intervention of brand gigolos.
I begrudge no agency its right to exist, to bill, to have lunch, and to bill again. I simply don't believe they have a role to play in brand dialogues.
The practical application of common sense says this: You need to be the No. 1 advocate of your product or brand. If you believe it's crap, or even if you believe it's somewhat flawed, you cannot expect the sales force to believe it's wonderful and communicate that to buyers, and you can't expect the buyers to give it a big, wet kiss.
Belief in the product has to start with you -- not R&D, production, engineering, distribution, or anyone else along the chain but you. If it's not something you can believe in as being the absolute best at what it does, it is your responsibility to go back to the responsible parties and tell them what needs to be done to make it a product worthy of your belief.
To heck with the organization chart; channels be damned. It is your responsibility to make sure a broken product or brand is fixed. You cannot walk away from it.
But that's only half your responsibility. The other half is once you have a product you can believe in to brag about it -- and here's where you brandish your diploma from the Dizzy Dean School of Marketing. Tell the truth. Speak plainly but loudly. Yell it from the mountaintops. Tell it to everyone you see any chance to get. It ain't bragging if it's the truth, and it's not annoying if you're simple and honest about it.
Here's a real-world bedtime story for you before I go. A client had a new product that was just about ready for market. I asked him what was special about it. "Well," he said, pausing a little, "we've made it harder for people to see it's not a very good value."
"Then it's going to die," I told him, and the only reason why it hasn't died yet is that it hasn't made it out of the shop. They can't figure out how to make it something people will want to buy ... or what to charge for it ... or what to call it ... or who to sell it to ... or how.
Simple lesson: Know your market. Create a product or brand you believe in wholeheartedly. Be an evangelist for your brand. Talk to the people who talk to you, because down deep almost all of them like you.
And don't spend $8.9 million on Justin Timberlake. Give it to your people. They got you here.
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