StealThunder Blog

August 27th, 2009

I add my own two cents to this now overdiscussed subject to emphasize one point: “to thine own self be true.”

Here’s what Radio Shack CMO Lee Applbaum said about the launch of The Shack campaign:

“Trust is a critical attribute of any successful retailer, and the reality is that most people trust friends, not corporations. When a brand becomes a friend, it often gets a nickname - take FedEx or Coke, for example. Our customers, associates and even the investor community have long referred to RadioShack as ‘THE SHACK,’ so we decided to embrace that fact and share it with the world.”

“Trust is a critical attribute…” fine. How can Applbaum then claim with a straight face that “our customers, associates and even the investor community have long referred to RadioShack as ‘THE SHACK’”?

Sorry, the Radio Shack brand has been a part of my life since I was a kid. I’ve been there many times, heard it talked about many times, and have never once heard anyone refer to it as “The Shack.” No one. Never.

I guess I’m left wondering why you would spin the story in such an implausible direction, unless you were just desperate. Worse, my entire feeling about the brand—which wasn’t negative to begin with—just went into the toilet. Actually, I must have had more of an emotional investment than I thought because I find the deception really depressing.

Out.

August 19th, 2009

No matter where you stand on the issue of healthcare/health insurance reform, you have to admit that the Obama administration has done a terrible marketing job. Few understand the various plans under discussion. The administration has been forced onto the defensive by aggressive opposition, and their attempts at clarification have largely been useless. It is a little shocking that any president, even one determined to transcend partisan politics, could have gone into such a major initiative so naively, and so ill-prepared. Especially since so many people are already justly suspicious of government, and blown away by the scale of recent financial mismanagement.

There are some good lessons on messaging in this debacle.

A couple of Liberal commentators are put out with their leader for not being able to frame the proposal in simple, clear terms. In a rhetorical letter to the President, Thom Hartman wrote, “‘Medicare for anybody who wants it. Private health insurance for those who don’t. Easy message…”

Next, you might watch a video clip of Ariana Huffington on Countdown, in which she makes the following points (with suitable exasperation):

• Obama probably had a grassroots army ready to spread the word, but they didn’t know what to say
• Communication vacuums leave the door open for your competitors to position you, maybe decisively
• The official spokespeople for your company need to be singing off the same page; the alternative is confusion and potential catastrophe

Finally, you might take a look at a Roger Ebert post on the power of memes, which clearly can work for ill as well as good.

Let us know what you think.

August 14th, 2009

Design should help tell your story. But here’s a case where a “clever” design gets in the way. Take a look at the banner that accompanied Tuesday’s announcement of Chevy Volt’s miles-per-gallon number. If you didn’t read the news story (or hadn’t encountered any of the reportedly annoying “What is 230?” viral ads), what would your first impression be?

Mine was: “23 mpg, plug it in.”

Sure, creating a little mystery as a way to get buzz can be effective. United Airlines did a good job of that with their launch of TED. But here’s a case where the mystery–or miscommunication–is embedded in the design itself.

Does an electrical outlet really “read” as a zero? And now that the design is out there without the clarifying “What is 230?” words, will more people read it the way I did?

230 mpg is an impressive statistic. 23 mpg isn’t.

In isolation, this design just short circuits itself.

August 13th, 2009

Yes, more adventures, this time at a different store. Exactly the same checkout experience, namely, swipe my Visa card, get prompted by the payment terminal to answer yes or no, did I want to donate to a good cause? Then asked by the cashier all over again at the end, “Would you like to donate to Muscular Dystrophy today?”

This time I said in my most pleasant and civil voice: “I’m surprised. The payment terminal asked me that question just a moment ago, and I answered ‘No.’ Now you’re asking me again. Wouldn’t you find that annoying if you were a customer?’

The cashier apologized and explained that she understood, but it was the policy of management (of course) to require checkers to ask the question again. “They even send mystery shoppers through to make sure we’re asking you if you want to donate.”

I wasn’t surprised the checker was working off a script; that’s a no brainer. My immediate impression however was “Safeway management is pursuing a policy that is going to offend some customers. And they may know they’re doing this.”

Gaynelle said, “Yes, they probably do want to shame you. Maybe they know that’s the only way you’ll give.”

Meanwhile at the store, the woman in line behind me wearily fetched a “Your Feedback Is IMPORTANT” form and thrust it at me. “Here, take this. It’s much more effective. The cashier is powerless.” Then I thought, “You’re right, the poor cashier is caught in the middle, just following the rules, occasionally taking abuse from prickly people like me.” I looked at the cashier; she just shrugged tiredly and nodded.

“Dear Safeway. Maybe you’re way smarter and more far-seeing than me. But you’re really bumming me out.”

It’s not like Lucky or Nob Hill are so far away.

August 11th, 2009

When it comes to creating great customer experiences, the devil is in the details. And that doesn’t necessarily mean that the details are tricky. It does mean that flawed details in the overall experience can make life momentarily—well, maybe “hellish” is too strong.

Take Safeway’s checkout process. I like Safeway; I go there a lot. Works perfectly well for me from the standpoint of convenience, quality, price, selection, service. And as far as I can see they’re good citizens too. For quite a while they’ve been raising money to help fight breast cancer, MS, and other diseases. But how you do that in the store environment where people are typically busy, and just eager to get finished and get on their way, can be tricky.

I think the last thing you’d want to do is change a customer’s willingness to donate into resentment. So here’s what’s happened to me several times, and to at least one other customer a few days ago who ended up snarling angrily at the cashier during checkout. As you swipe your payment card through the Safeway payment terminal, a message appears onscreen asking, “Do you want to donate to help fight Muscular Dystrophy?” Tap here for yes, tap here for no. It’s relatively seamless and unobtrusive, and as a way to handle the request it has the advantage of being discreet. Which means if I tap the “No” button on the interface, no one knows but me, and maybe the cashier. Problem is that after my bill has been sub-totaled, the cashier asks me again, very audibly, “Would you like to donate to Muscular Dystrophy today?”

OK, it’s redundant and clumsy, but from an experience standpoint it goes deeper than that.

First, the customer has been unexpectedly forced to deal with an issue that has the potential to evoke guilt, and she has to do it at a point in the process where she just wants to pay the grocery bill and get home. Secondly, the cashier has just made a private choice into something public. If I have to answer audibly “No”, it may leave an impression with others in line that I’m selfish or heartless. Which probably overstates it, but you get the point. Thirdly, and simplistically, any customer is going to wonder why the hell Safeway bothers to ask the question electronically if it is just going to turn around and ask it “manually” a few minutes later. And on that point, why can’t the cashier tell as he’s looking at his own screen that I’ve already answered the question? Was that so hard to design into the software? Or is the cashier just not paying attention? As I mentioned, I recently watched another customer ahead of me simply yell at the cashier, “No! I don’t want to donate! You asked me onscreen, now you’re asking me again! It’s unbelievably rude. Stop. I’ve already said No!” The cashier rolled with the punch, but I couldn’t help wonder whether the irate customer would ever be returning to shop there.

There are other aspects of this seemingly mundane moment that are interesting in the day and age of smart, hyper-targeted marketing. For instance, if you live close enough to Safeway to use it as a virtual convenience store (like moi), you could be asked several times a week to donate money. Even if you just do your regular weekly shopping at Safeway, you’re continually being hit for spare change—and that’s inside the store. Doesn’t this have to start aggravating regular customers after awhile?

Of course all this isn’t going to prevent me from returning to Safeway, but it is annoying, and clearly it pushes some people over the edge. And at least the redundant question isn’t a detail that anyone would find devilishly hard to fix.

Footnote: the other day I had to pick up some meds from CVS Pharmacy, which used to be Long’s. Practically right next door to the Safeway. I walked up to the counter, paid, the assistant handed me my pill containers, and then said, “Would you like to talk to the pharmacist about this medication?” Trivial, right? Here’s the context: the old Long’s assistant would ritually say, “The pharmacist would like to talk to you about this medication. Please wait at the next window, she’ll be right there.” Simply no awareness that I’d been taking this prescription for nearly 20 years, or that I’d been getting it from this same Long’s for several years. I had no need to talk to the pharmacist, and I had no need to tell the pharmacist for the nth time that I didn’t need to talk to her, much less wait for her.

Thoughtfulness vs. autopilot. I can’t imagine a tinier, more ephemeral moment during a day—but simply by asking me, CVS had made me very happy.