Slightly Askew

I got them from Moo. 50 of them in fact, and for a very reasonable price.

And Moo, bless them, describe business cards as greetings for meetings. Which I think is quite wonderful.

If I had any gripes, it would be that the quality of the printing on the front isn’t great. As you might be able to see, it looks slightly tired around the edges.

According to Stephen (who knows about these things) it’s because they use digital printing. Indeed, Wikipedia’s entry for digital printing tells us that:

The Ink or Toner does not absorb into the substrate, as does conventional ink, but forms a layer on the surface and may be fused to the substrate by using an inline fuser fluid with heat process(toner) or UV curing process(ink). 

So because the ink doesn’t absord into the card (or substrate, for you jargoneers) it can flake when the cards are cut.

Or something like that.

I don’t actually mind the effect. Each card looks like a well-read book. Which can’t be a bad thing for a writer.

It was a sunny weekday lunchtime. Any self-respecting male not at work would’ve done exactly the same thing. Surely.

Pint of Stella please.

It came quickly. And with a smile. I was quickly falling in love with this restaurant. Love blossomed when my rump steak burger with handcut chips arrived.

Good lord above, please open one in Ipswich.

Another Stella. A little more sunshine. Smiles all round.

Then the bill arrived: £12.45 for two Stellas and a tasty meal. An absolute bargain. I got out my Maestro and was all set to pay £15 and reward the friendly waitresses £2.55 for their wonderful service.

And my card sat there untouched for twenty minutes. Twenty bloody minutes. My food had arrived in half that time.

So when I finally did get the chance to pay, I paid £12.45 exactly.

Because one bad thing can undo the work of so many good ones.

Marketing isn’t an event. It isn’t an advert, an email, or a website. It’s a process. You’re marketing when you hire and you’re marketing when you fire. When some idiot dials the wrong number and calls you instead of the local tyre kickers, that’s right, you’re marketing. It continues when you’re not looking.

And the problems start when you’re not looking.

But solving the problem isn’t impossible.

So when I walked out of that restaurant, a little grumpy and £2.55 better off, I was annoyed. Let down maybe. But I needed to get the tram. And I had no idea where from.

So I asked the waitresses. And they told me - with the same friendly smile that I’d received in every contact I’d had with them. I got my tram, and my happy face returned.

Those twenty minutes were a blip. Everybody has blips. Marketing gives you the opportunity to iron them out. Keep doing things the right way and when you’ll be forgiven for the odd time when things go the wrong way.

And next time you’re in Sheffield, do me a favour would you? Visit Yorkies and tip them that £2.55 I owe.

Two of my best friends - Danny and Katie - are hairdressers.  Brilliant hairdressers, in fact.

This means two things:

1. Looking this good costs less.
2. I don’t go into salons much.

I went to Katie’s salon today though.  It’s spanking new and pretty swish.  So swish in fact, I could’ve had a glass of cold Budweiser while my barnet was being chopped.

I questioned Katie about how they get around licensing laws.  Turns out that you don’t buy the drink; you rent the glass.  The drink is effectively free.

They don’t make a profit on it either; it’s done for the benefit of the customers.

Which is pretty cool I think.

It demonstrates that not every element of your business should make a profit.  Some elements that only break-even are worth talking about.

So what about if you made a loss?  What if those drinks were absolutely free?  What if I was brought a cold Budweiser without even asking for one?

Cold Budweiser, sir?

Yes please.  I’ll happily drink it, relax during my haircut, and then tell all my mates about your salon.  Never underestimate how much blokes talk about the time I got a free beer.

I know of companies that give away £10 vouchers if you refer your friends to them.  Why not spend £10 giving a service worth talking about?

Imagine there are twenty-five people in a room.  You’re about to open a great new shoe shop and you want to know what size shoe most people want to buy.  You pass around a piece of a paper and everyone writes what shoe size they want to be stocked.  If you take everyone’s opinion into account and do a bit of maths, you’ll get an average shoe size.

Similarly, you can take an advert for your shoe shop into that room of twenty-five people.  You pass it around, let everyone have their input, and make changes based upon that input.  The result is exactly the same: you get an average advert.

Do you want average?

I visited McDonald’s today.  I ordered a Big Mac and waited patiently.  A young lady returned with my order and, as she placed it in my hand, said:

You should stop putting fatty foods into your body and get more exercise.  Why do you do it?  You should have more self-respect; a little more care and consideration about what you eat wouldn’t go amiss.

This, of course, didn’t happen.

However, I did go into Next’s town centre store in Ipswich.  It’s a familiar scene: rails and rails of clothes on plastic hangers; greetings cards in cellophane wrappers; and make-up gift sets in clear plastic boxes.

They also had reusable bags with the carrying the slogan ‘dare to care’.

If your company isn’t prepared to put in the effort, why should your customers?

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.

I wrote my first ever Amazon review a few days ago.

It was about the rather wonderful Kenwood Smoothie To Go SB055.  Here’s a brief excerpt:

This smoothie maker will not, of course, change your life. But it will make you forget all those horribly awkward previous incarnations that got used once every six months. You know the ones: dishwasher safe but too big to fit in the dishwasher; quickly became scummy around seals and spouts.

Good eh?

I got a warm fuzzy feeling from writing that review - albeit a capitalist one.  Rewarding Kenwood for their innovation by giving prospective customers a delicate but honest shove in the right direction - at zero cost to supplier or customer.  The only cost is my time.

You do it too.  Maybe not on Amazon, and maybe not with the verve and swagger of I, but you do do it.

Down the pub, over dinner, or on the phone.  We’re always talking about products that make us happy, or service that makes us frustrated (if you want frustration, try finding a customer support number in 30 seconds on www.123-reg.co.uk).

So if you want more customers, give your existing customers - and anybody else for that matter - something good to talk about.

Easter eggs anyone?

Me and the lady were being good citizens on Saturday: paying-in some money for a friend at a high street building society who are, apparently, proud to be different.

In walked a young couple.  They went to one of those ask-a-question queues (we were in the cashier queue, there was a queue for the machines, and a queue of people wondering what queue to join).  The male-half of the couple spoke.

I’d like to change my address please.

I really wanted to make an amusing comment about needing an estate agent instead of a building society, but my seldom-seen restraint kicked-in.  The customer services representative (or whatever his job title was) responded.

Okay sir, I’m going to need you to fill in one of these forms.

As if people don’t have enough bloody forms to fill in when they’re moving house, I thought, restraint still intact.

Well, how long’s it gonna take?  Cos I’m trying to buy something over the internet and I can’t cos my address don’t match the one on the card.

Surely it would be instant, wouldn’t it?  All they have to do is change a record on a database.

We have to post it to central records, sir.  It will take a few days….

…but since I’m in a good mood, and it’s an exceptionable circumstance, I’ll do it for you today.

What?

You’re in a good mood?  What’s that got to do with some bloody customer service?  Just change the fucking address!  And if you can do it instantly for them, you can do it instantly for every other person that needs to change their address.  I can’t imagine they get more than five requests a day.

If there’s a logical shortcut that improves the standard of customer service, make that shortcut the standard.

Surely?

Anyone who’s read the the bit on the left that says a little about me will know that one day I hope to have a cat.  Writers have cats.  Farmers have cows.  Scary people have violent dogs.  That’s just the way the world works.

Caroline found a cat last week.  It was crying by the roadside.  She brought it home and gave it food and water.  It was gone the next morning, but it came back.  Again, we gave it food and water.  We gave it our attention, and it stayed with us in the garden until we went indoors.  The next day it came back again.

Give a cat food and water and it might come back.  Show it some affection too, and it almost certainly will.

Maybe cats are like customers.

If you give customers a product or service at a good price, they’ll come back. But only until they find someone else who offers a good price.

If you give customers a great product or great service at a good price, they’ll come back.  But only until they find someone else with a great product or great service at a good price.

So how do you keep them coming back after that?

Make them smile.

Happiness is a bloody powerful emotion.  Some songs make me happy.  Some adverts make me happy.  Some products make me happy.

Make me happy and I will remember you.  I will keep coming back to you.  Great products, great service, and good prices are what I expect from any business with half-an-ounce of common sense.

Do more.