Slightly Askew

16 months ago, I flew from Las Vegas to Gatwick with Virgin Atlantic.

I wasn’t impressed.

And so I emailed them. I didn’t ask for a refund or any free stuff, I just thought they should know. Because if I didn’t tell them what was wrong, how could I be upset if they didn’t improve? My email wasn’t horrid (I like Virgin – they have some damn fine copywriters), more a plea for them to try a bit harder.

Here’s an excerpt:

It felt as if you’ve given up trying to be better, trying to stand out.  You could almost smell the apathy.

They had a chance to make amends last week – I made the very same flight.

But it was the same old story.

Virgin Atlantic is twenty-five years old this year.  The aircraft (a Boeing 747-400, enthusiasts) was probably the same age. And its “award winning in-flight entertainment” didn’t seem too far behind, either.

It was the system where all the channels are on loops. So only once the longest film is finished can everything start again. Granted, I was only in economy. Perhaps in First Class they were giving out Sega Game Gears to keep the patrons entertained.

Although limited, this poor excuse for in-flight entertainment would’ve been welcome in seat 48J. Because the only thing the poor sod in that seat could see is the image you see above. For nine and a half fucking hours.

No points for guessing who that poor sod was.

I did point out the problem, obviously. Three times, no less. And each time the member of Virgin Atlantic’s (award winning, no doubt) cabin crew toddled off and never toddled back with an explanation, apology or alternative.

Perhaps it’s time for another email.

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Free samples are as old as the direct marketing hills.

When I was younger, I remember getting lots of free samples of Wash & Go delivered to our house. Maybe someone thought my hair could do with a few more washes.

Those free samples worked – big, proper bottles of Wash & Go could often be found in the Waters bathroom a few weeks later.

Free samples are still alive and well. Even in the digital world. Introducing Books offers free samples on its website, giving people the opportunity to see the unique style of their books before buying.

Free samples were even available at Latitude festival. Müller (those lick the lid of life people) had a special tent where, every morning, they gave away free yoghurts, corners, rice and those probiotic thingymajigs.

I liked this for two reasons:

1. They were kind enough to give away free food to hungry, hungover people.

2. In a world where financial departments demand hard evidence of ROI, this was a refreshing change. There’s no possible way they could measure ROI or ‘brand engagement’ or any other nauseating marketing term. But they still did it. They still thought it would bring a smile to people’s faces. And genuinely believed that us folk would repay this gesture by purchasing their products on a regular basis (otherwise why do it?).

The thing I really like about free samples is their faith in the product. I love the try-this-once-and-you-will-fucking-love-it attitude. The unwavering belief that one shot at the title is all the little fucker needs to worm its way in your life forever. Free samples cry out: we are a product, and we’re not shit.

* * *

Halfway through writing this post, the topic came up at work. Could we, an agency, give free samples to prove what a brilliant job we could do given the chance?

I’m not so sure. Yoghurts have pots and lids and are full of cream and fruit and stuff. It is a yoghurt or it isn’t. (That’s a sentence I never imagined writing.) If you like the yoghurt free sample, you buy another yoghurt full price. Creativity is subjective. And you’re only as good as your last effort. Yoghurts can rest on their laurels for years.

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Nope. I’m not dead.

I nearly died this morning though. Went spinning with the wife-to-be. If you’re not familiar with spinning, allow me put you in the picture: You get on an exercise bike in a dark room. Someone puts on bad, loud music. Someone shouts “sprint” every now and then. Lactic acid kicks in after about twenty seconds and never goes away. After half an hour, they give you your freedom back.

Suffice to say it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience I’ve ever had.

But I can see why people, my missus included, get a buzz out of it. There’s a sense of achievement when you walk out of the room. And I guess it’s that sense of achievement which is the addictive thing about exercise. (My feelings were mostly dehydration and dizziness, but that’s more to do with my pathetic fitness level.)

The addiction of achievement is something that Nike ad execs worked out a long time ago. But achievement rarely comes without difficulty. Effort, perspiration and knock-backs. Good old fashioned blood, sweat and tears. Without them, the big slice of achievement pie doesn’t taste so good.

And you can’t really cheat exercise. It’s you and you alone that has to put in the hours. But when you win, the achievement’s all yours too.

Nike manages to squeeze this notion into every ad. And in terms of concept and delivery, I don’t think it gets much better than this.

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Seth talks about authenticity.  How much fakery do we accept?  What crosses the line?

When Howies sold out to Timberland (the footwear and clothing company; not the producer du jour), my friend Zoe with an umlaut sent me an email titled:

They all sell out in the end

Does it really matter?  Why?

Well, yes it does matter.  It matters because we care.

If you’re authentic enough, people start to care about your money-making enterprise as much you do.  Give us a warm, fuzzy feeling and something to talk about and we’ll buy more of your products, we’ll read your email newsletters and RSS feeds, and yes, we’d love to come to your village fete in middle of London.

We wear (or otherwise) your products because they align themselves with what we believe in and aspire to.

So - going back to Howies - let’s see what a Timberland’s President and CEO, Jeffrey Swartz, had to say about matters:

“We are excited and inspired by the brand potential we see in Howies and are pleased to welcome them to the Timberland family.  We look to invest in like-minded brands that are focused on innovation, authenticity and integrity, and Howies encompasses all of these core values. Together we will leverage our complementary strengths to bring our brands to new consumers and new markets.”

It is, perhaps, ironic that the only thing jeopardising Howies’ “authenticity and integrity” is Timberland.  Well, that and Mr Swartz’s irksome use of the word ‘leverage’.

Not because Timberland is a bad brand.  But because Howies built one of independence; with two fingers firmly raised towards take-take-take multinationals.

To me, these two companies curdle.  A bit like when I was seven years old and thought that mixing cherryade and milk would produce a sumptuous milkshake.

Zoe said that it made her sick too.

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