No more "Car Guys."

No more “Car Guys.”

From time to time, we find it important to question some of the basic tenets of advertising.  By challenging assumptions, we push the norms -- and ourselves -- to provide better, fresher solutions.

One such advertising sacred cow is the notion of  “car guys.” They’re ad men who have specific expertise in the automotive category. Car guys know how to shoot sheet metal at a ¾ angle. The know acronyms like APR and MSRP. They know how long it takes to go from drawing board to show room. And they understand the complicated relationship between factory and dealers.

Mind you, these industry experts are not exclusive to cars. There are “Health & Beauty” people in the cosmetic world. There are experts in the Financial, Pharma, Education and Medical categories.  And because of their category expertise, these specialists all cost more. Usually 25% to 40% more.

Now, many agencies and clients take comfort in the knowledge and experience of “car guys.” After all, car guys “know the drill.” “They’ve done it before, they can do it again.” And “it’s not their first time at the rodeo.”

But, for the last 20 years, we’ve sat and studied the phenomenon of Car Guys and other so-called industry experts. And here’s what we found:

n  Most great or breakthrough car campaigns have not come from “Car guys.” What’s more, they usually come from agencies far away from Detroit.

n  Rarely does someone with a famous campaign in one category come up with a second great one if the same category.

n  Great campaigns are very often ones that attack the category sacred cows upheld by industry experts. The seriousness of investment ads. Super models in beauty ads.  Badge value of beer ads. The sex appeal of deodorant ads.

n  While industry knowledge is important, the learning curves are not overwhelming. After all, this is advertising.

n  So-called Industry experts have a vested interest in the status quo. The ¾ sheet metal shot. Or, the overly retouched super model. This is what they know; their bread and butter. They have a very real financial incentive to preserve, protect and promote the same ol, same ol.

It is this last point that I find most intriguing. Clients come to agencies for new and different – and yet often pay extra for the very opposite.

We do believe in what we call “voice areas.” A writer who excels at edgy humor and video game ads may not be the right fit for the private bank or jewelry brand, but may be perfect for beer or fast food or an $18,000 car.

Now, we don’t have anything against car guys. Some of my friends are car guys. We just look for people experienced in consumer insights, branding, communicating, creating  – rather than doing it in any one industry.

Great Ads Kill Themselves

Great Ads Kill Themselves

  I learned early on that nothing kills a bad product faster than great advertising. When you think about, this oxymoronic statement makes complete sense. Good ads drive trial. And if the product is lousy, trial is the kiss of death.

  A classic example of this was the Piel’s campaign from the 1950s. An animated campaign featuring two cartoon characters, Harry and Bert Piel, piqued interest in this local eastern beer. However, when people tried it, well, they didn’t want to try it again. Sales dropped.

  Now, here’s a cousin to this concept. “Great Ads kills themselves.”

   Now, most copywriters and art directors think only clients and testing kill great ads. And that can happen. But great ads also kill themselves.

  Here’s how:  great ads create demand. But, sometimes the client is not able to fulfill that demand – at least in the short run. (Economics 101) Suddenly, consumers are getting annoyed.  The fastest, easiest solution is to pull the plug on the advertising. Shut it down. Yank it off the air.

  One example I am familiar with was when we launched a FreshDirect TV campaign back in 2006. We aired several humorous spots featuring famous New Yorkers, like Spike Lee and Ed Koch.  As demand went up, suddenly consumers were not able to get the delivery time slots they wanted.  FreshDirect simply didn’t have the trucks to meet the extra demand. Our ad agency got several cranky calls from Manhattanites  saying “take those funny spots off the air, I can’t get my food.”

  Recently, we launched a digital campaign for a midwestern graduate school.  The inquiries have multiplied several times over. The admissions staff, which prefers to personally handle each inquiry, is being taxed to the limit.  It will be interesting to see what happens next. Will they hire more people – or cut the media buy. Stay tuned.

BBBBBBonnet.

I have lots of Bs in my bonnet. With the shorter days and cooler weather, I’ve been watching more TV lately. And some ads just rub me the wrong way. It’s nothing majorly offensive; just annoying little things that no one in the world probably notices besides us advertising geeks.

1. Fake white hair on the Cialis commercials.

I can hear the casting discussion. “He looks virile and fit.” “Yeah, but he’s  only 32 and our target audience is 45-plus.” “No worries! We can put a little gray powder in his hair. And he’ll look 55.”  “Cool! Let’s grab a latte!”

2.  The overuse of “Keep” in taglines.

Keep Rising. Keep Walking. Keep Challenging. “Keep” is to the 10s what “real” was to the 90s and “life” was to the 00s.

3. Geico commercials.

OK, I actually really like most every Geico ad.  But I figure if they didn’t spend over half a billion dollars a year on non-stop ads and multiple campaigns, they might be able to save me 30% on car insurance --  instead of a crummy15%!

4. Mispronunciation of the word “mantra.”

There is an Axiron spot that runs every 10 minutes that starts with a guy saying “My mantra is….”  Only, he says “mantra,” as in “man.” (Not sure if this is intentional because it is a testosterone spot. ) But I’ve always heard the word pronounced like “mahn-tra.” Technically, both pronunciations are legal. But If you’re affected enough to use the word “mantra,” you should be affected enough to pronounce it “Mahn-tra.”

5. Is it just me  -- or are TV ads just for old people?

It could just be what I’m watching (a lot of news, re: Syria) but all I seem to see are ads for reverse mortgages, facelifts, Hurrycanes and catheters. Catheters, for crissakes!

6. The generic-ness of state tourism ads.

Summer is the high season for commercials encouraging travel to local states. Connecticut. New Hampshire. Maine.  I always find these to be so generic. A stock footage montage of: hiking, boating, camping – stuff I can presumably do in all 50 states.  Of course, this not by accident.  I can hear the meeting at the Department of Travel & Tourism:  Agency: “Let’s  show  this museum and this city and this landmark.” State: “No, we can’t do that. All the counties put money into the effort. If we feature stuff from one county, all of the other ones w ill be angry.” So, instead, they show bland, generic footage that could be from any county. Or, any state.

Which means I’ll just stay home. And watch more TV.

AdBall

Chapter 1.  The Creative Dividend.

    For years, I have been intrigued with Sabermetrics. As you may know, Sabermetrics is the statistical analysis of baseball inspired by Bill James. This objective, scientific approach to judging talent was used by Oakland A’s GM, Billy Beane. Then, Beane’s success was immortalized in Michael Lewis’s 2003 book “Moneyball,” which was turned into a 2011 hit movie starring Brad Pitt.

 The premise of the book and movie was: in order to compete more efficiently, sometimes you have to categorically challenge the way you view things. And while it was a book about baseball, it really could be about anything. Football. Investments. Life. Maybe even advertising.

  I have often wondered what would happen if we applied this thinking to the advertising creative process. What would we do differently? How would we judge talent? Who would we want on our team? How could we work more efficiently?  Who should go into the new business room? How can we remove emotion from something that is inherently all about emotion?

 Now, I realize that merely asking these questions is asking for trouble. I will come under scorn for these.  But, so did Billy Beane. And now every team in baseball follows his model – and is run by computer whiz kids with a new set of stats.

 So, for the last 10 years I have counted, calculated and come up with some interesting revelations. But, just like Billy Beane, the first question I had to ask is, what does success look like? (In Moneyball, good baseball was about not making outs.) How can we judge good advertising in an objective way?

What is Good?

  When I was a teenager and showed my book around, I learned a valuable lesson: everyone liked different things in the portfolio. There was no consensus. No definitive good or bad. So began my search for “What is good?”

  It’s a tough question. And everyone in the business has a different answer or opinion. “You know it when you see it.” “It makes me jealous.” “It is memorable…motivating… disruptive…” Yes, but these are all subjective.

 Everyone basically agrees that it has to breakthrough, create an emotion and have a compelling brand-building message. But how can we eliminate personal bias and quantify it? Here are some standard measurements:

1.  Number of awards? Creatives love advertising awards. Maybe that is why there are so many of them. But, let’s admit it, these awards are by and for the ad community. These self-congratulatory shows (with the possible exception of the Effies) have little to do with sales, or, for that matter, consumers.

2.  Test scores? Clients love test scores. And they are good for disaster checks and CYA. But, again being honest, we all know that testing exists in an unreal situation. It tests the familiar. It rewards the tried and true. It punishes the new and different.

3.  Great sales? Let’s face it, this is what we are in business to do. But I am not sure sales alone are an accurate measurement of great advertising. After all, so many other variables go into sales: packaging, placement, distribution, price, competition, and the product itself just to name a few. Historically, great ads have been known to put bad products out of business. Conversely, I have admittedly sold a lot of (great) product with mediocre advertising.

Here’s a new measurement that we use:

The Creative Dividend. This is an actual number that we can use to determine the bang you get for your creative buck. Face it, we all want the creative to breakthrough and have a life beyond its media buy. We want our ads to catch the attention of the public, get picked up in the media, and become part of the culture.

This is the exponential power of creative. That’s why clients pay agencies. (If they just wanted to tout their product benefits, they’d put their strategy on air.)

Here’s how to figure it out. Put a value amount on the “free media” the creative generates. Then, divide this number by the actual media buy and production budget. This will give you a number; it could be .01 or 10 or any number. We call this the Creative Dividend.

Most ads have a number between zero and .1.  Any number over 1 is extremely good. A 5 is outstanding; great. Anything over 10 is a first ballot hall of famer. Think of the greatest ads of all time. Apple’s “1984.” Coke’s “Mean Joe.” Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef.” Nike’s “Bo Knows.” Absolute’s print campaign. All would have a Creative Dividend over 100.

Now, this formula isn’t perfect. It assumes that the messaging is positive and compelling. Getting the two numbers may take some help from your media department.  And it discounts the effect of the PR team. But it does objectively begin to quantify how breakthrough your creative is.

Of course, most of the examples I’ve cited are TV-related and pre-Internet. And now TV is becoming less important in the communication mix. What’s more, mainstream media coverage is becoming less important in measuring what’s popular and talked about.  So…how does the Creative Dividend hold up in the digital, social media environment?

Actually, the Creative Dividend is even more valuable and relevant in the world of viral. We have tweaked the formula just a little:

    

Views (clicks, likes, shared) divided by production = Creative Dividend.

This provides some tangible measurement to how successful your creative is working.  This doesn’t reward using celebrities and huge production budgets – it rewards the simple human appeal of your message.

40 years ago.

I am sure over the next week you will hear mention of the 40^th anniversary of Secretariat’s memorable win at the 1973 Belmont Stakes.  They’ll reminisce about that Saturday afternoon at Belmont Raceway when the heralded three-year old in blue and white checked silks won horseracing’s elusive Triple Crown. That seminal moment is the inspiration behind the name of our agency. You see, where as most horses win by a nose, a head or a length, Secretariat won by an unprecedented 31 Lengths.

I always found that race defining in so many ways. Let me start by saying, I am not a horse racing fan. I’ve never been to a track and I’m not even sure about the ethics of the sport.

But, the event was an awe-inspiring thing of beauty. Watch it on YouTube. It will give you goose bumps. For me as a child, it defined domination, success and performance in their purest forms. The last quarter of a mile, Big Red, as Secretariat was called, and his jockey Ron Turcotte were no longer running against other thoroughbreds. Instead, they were racing against time and the ages and definitions of greatness.

I also remember the other four horses in the race. Their spirits broken, they seemed to be competing in a different contest. As you watch towards the end, Secretariat’s lead is so great, the camera has to widen its aperture – making the other horses actually look like they’re running backwards.

So, why did we name the agency “31 Lengths”?  Because we believe the ad industry has lost focus on what we are really all about. That is, helping our clients perform, succeed and dominate. We wanted to demonstrate our commitment to this – even in the naming of the agency.

And the mission of our agency?  Easy. To make the other guys look like they’re running backwards.

What was I thinking?

People have often asked why I started my own agency. If you know me, you probably know the long list of reasons: freedom. Fun. Self-determination. Desire to right the wrongs of advertising.

But, actually, I find stories more indicative of why I felt the need to create a different kind of agency.

Here’s one such story.

Six months before I launched the agency, I was told to skip lunch because I had to “receive a very important briefing.” And sure enough, at noon, six professionals filed into my office and filled my sofa and chairs. For the most part, they were all smart and delightful co-workers. There were 3 planners and 3 account people, all in their 20s. Combined, the six of them had about half of my advertising experience.

Over the next 45 minutes, the lead planner, a very talented woman, delivered a thorough and thoughtful brief.

She described  a new bacon promotion idea for our Quick Serve Restaurant client. She went into minute detail about “the thought behind it.” “What we were thinking when we came up with it.” “The genesis of the idea.” “The inspiration of its name.”

At the end of this tour de force, she finally stopped, took a breath and asked if I had any questions. I looked at her and her five colleagues and said, “Yes.” They braced themselves, ready to defend their brief en masse.

“You all know that I created this concept, right?”  I said.  They all answered in unison. “Yes” “Sure. “Of course.”

“So, then…why did you spend the last hour telling me what I was thinking when I thought of it?”

Again, the chorus sung out. “It’s our job.” “The process.”  “Our responsibility.”

I sat there kind of dumbstruck. Seven people spent their lunch hour – and several thousand dollars of the client’s money in billable hours – so that I could be told what I was thinking. Would you tell an author what he was thinking when he wrote a book? Or tell an artist what she was thinking when she painted a picture?

Of course not. Unless, you wanted to protect your silo. Cover your ass. Justify your salary. Defend your turf. Control the process. And everything else that is wrong with our industry.

That’s when I knew.

Three Black Boxes

When I left home for college 30 years ago, we had a family room with a big TV console. It was an electronic altar surrounded by a couple of sofas and chairs. For as long as I could remember, our television set had 7 channels: the 3 networks, 3 local stations and PBS. (We were lucky -- seven was a lot because we lived in New York!)

 

The TV controlled our lives. Dinner was scheduled around the start times of our favorite shows, or, as we called them, programs. TV Guide dictated when we did our homework and chores.

 

When I came home after graduation four years later, there were three new objects in the family room. Three rectangular black boxes of varying shapes and sizes.

 

One, the smallest, was a remote control device, or as we called it, the flipper. Suddenly switching channels didn’t require us to get up and walk all the way across the room and manually turn the dial. (I say “all the way” because common wisdom back then was that the TV exuded dangerous radiation and could damage your eyes unless you sat 12 to 15 feet away.) Now you could watch two games at once if you cut away during commercials.

 

Another was a cable box. Now, instead of the 7 original channels, we had 32. An increase of nearly 500%. Many of the choices were pretty cheesy,  but then again, there was ESPN, HBO,  MTV and CNN.

 

And lastly, there was a VCR. This box allowed you to record shows on a blank cassette – so you could watch them whenever you wanted. It also allowed us to rent and watch movies like “Flashdance,” in case there wasn’t anything better to watch on the 32 channels.

 

Suddenly, the TV didn’t seem so omnipotent. Viewers had a lot more options. We – with the help of the three black boxes – had wrested back some control of lives. The balance of power had shifted towards the consumer.

 

And that wasn’t the only thing that changed. The ads changed, too. Suddenly, they had to be a little nicer and more respectful. Friendlier and funnier. Sponsors could no longer shout at, berate or hammer away at their newly empowered consumers. Their captive audience wasn’t quite so captive after all.

 

This shift of control from the media to the consumer has continued unabated for the last 3 decades. 32 channels became many hundred. The VCR was replaced by the DVR, making it easier to watch whatever, whenever– skipping the ads altogether. Pay-per-view lets you watch movies without driving down to the Blockbuster. And then…video games and the Internet happened. Enter YouTube, Hulu, Facebook. Entertainment options are now virtually infinite. And many people under 25 don’t even own or watch TVs.

 

Advertising has evolved to accommodate the changing dynamic. So much so, we don’t even like to call them ads anymore(Branded Content? Mobile Apps? Facebook Pages? Viral Videos? Product Placement? Podcasts. Pre-Roll?) Ads need to be even more entertaining, rewarding and beneficial.

 

Yep, the world has changed a lot in a relatively short period of time. Marketers that understand this evolution – and act accordingly -- will succeed. Remember, people still like to get news, sports, comedies, drama, music and other content – for free.  And they still like informative ads that enrich them for participating.