(Theodorick Of York, Medieval Barber, bleeds a patient
suffering from “an imbalance of bodily humors”.)

A couple of weeks ago (after years of stubborn resistance) I replaced Outlook Express and Microsoft Schedule for Office 97 with the full version of Outlook. Much as I dreaded it, my initial reaction was unexpectedly optimistic. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that it wasn’t so bad after all. Not only that, it offers several technical advantages that I formerly didn’t have.

Now, after spending two weeks really getting to know Outlook inside and out, I am absolutely positive that there is no hope of my ever regaining the efficiency I once enjoyed with my “outdated” programs. Just one example: Outlook’s AutoComplete function—which apparently cannot remember from day to day that when I type “E”, I want to send an email to Erin.

In a related vein, I recently completed an excellent book entitled Beer Blast (The Inside Story of the Brewing Industry’s Bizarre Battles for Your Money)—by Philip Van Munching. If you’ve ever peeled a Heineken bottle, you’ve probably seen his last name on the top label—after the words “Imported By”. Philip worked several years for the family business—then several months with the corporation that bought Van Munching Co. from his father.

One of the more poignant chapters in the book describes, in detail, the sweeping changes Van Munching’s new bosses introduced to a number of policies Dad had rigidly enforced over the years. They gave local sales reps broad freedom to offer periodic discount-pricing incentives. They added brand extensions—most notably Heineken Light—thereby broadening their product line beyond just Heineken and Amstel Light. They developed a 7-ounce Heineken bottle. They updated the advertising—with humorous spots that featured sophisticated people having good times while drinking beer, rather than focusing strictly on the Heineken brand.

Every change resulted in unqualified disaster.

That got me to thinking how easy it is for an ad agency to fall into the trap of Change For Change’s Sake—particularly in serving a new client. But here’s the thing I’ve learned: Just because we can do “better”, that doesn’t mean it’s always the right thing to do. For instance, have you ever gone shopping for a specific product, and literally couldn’t find it on the shelves because the new package design looked nothing like the one you’ve bought for years?

I’m not suggesting, by any stretch of the imagination, that change is bad. Just be sure that—when it comes to your marketing communications—your agency has a perfectly sensible reason for recommending the change. And that the change is consistent with the brand you’ve presumably spent years building in the marketplace.

Now, if someone could pass this message along to the half-wits who make Outlook, I’ll  be really happy.

Our web programmer Richard Thomas recently removed himself from consideration for a significant new business opportunity—after receiving a series of abrasive communiqués from the organization’s top executive (a physician). The last of which concluded with a direct order: “From now on, you will refer to me as Dr. [Whatever].”

Shortly after that decision, Richard’s partner Wesley mentioned it to a friend—who told him, “I didn’t want to say anything before, but I saw Dr. [Whatever] as a patient once. And he was not a friendly person.”

Richard told me his story, in part, because he knows my agency’s longstanding policy: We don’t work with a-holes (which, of course, is the print-friendly version of the word). For the sake of argument, I define an a-hole as someone who gets most of his or her pleasure by taking it from others.

Now, does that mean we don’t work with clients who demand their money’s worth—and get mad if we don’t deliver? Of course not; that’s what clients are supposed to do. But we will not work with that personality profile described above, for two reasons: 1) They’ll make your life miserable while you’re working with them, and 2) They’ll usually invent some reason to screw you in the end.

Talking with Richard made me realize there’s another reason—and one that’s equally important: Working with a-holes (particularly well-known ones) is bad for your reputation, and your brand. Which means it’s bad for business. It’s a case of guilt by association, and everybody’s a judge.

Years ago, I worked for a shop whose main client was in a controversial industry (one I don’t particularly admire myself), and lemme tell you: When my job description was expanded to include new business, my introductory calls to prospects routinely ended shortly after I answered the question, “So who are some of your clients?”

The point here is that—whether you like it or not—your brand in the marketplace is often defined as much by who you work with as it is by what you do and how you do it. Which is why your core messaging strategy should at least imply what kind of clients or customers you want to serve—and don’t want to serve. Which is one reason why I’ve always loved DavisDenny’s brandline: “We do good work for people who do good work”.

I’m now working with a great young builder, Daniel Murray, whose construction company has a unique way of doing business: Full disclosure on every expense involved in a budget—all the way down to his job-related cell phone charges. It’s a policy that’s been consistently well-received, but he’s learned—the hard way—that there are certain types (yeah, you know who) who’ll contest any number of his perfectly legitimate expenses. Why? Because that’s what those people do. Which is why a critical part of the brand strategy we’re developing for Murray Building Company will include the same subtle message implied in DavisDenny’s brandline: If you’re one of them, don’t call us. Please.

At the same time, there are plenty of otherwise good companies whose branding places them in a distinctly negative light. I can’t think of a better example than GoDaddy—which, judging from their ads, has defined its core market as oversexed teenage NASCAR fans in rut. Imagine how that sleazy campaign makes the good people of GoDaddy feel about working there.  Imagine how many prospective customers that campaign has repelled over the years. CEO Bob Parsons has heard the criticisms. He doesn’t care. Sounds like an a-hole to me.

And yes, as Mr. Parsons clearly demonstrates, there are plenty of companies doing quite well for themselves despite having major a-holes in charge (even some, shockingly, in my industry). And while there’s a natural tendency to resent—or even envy—their success, you’re better off feeling sorry for them. I know I am. And as a business owner, I have the luxury of avoiding them. But if you don’t have that luxury, remember: Nights and weekends, you get to be around people you like. A-holes have to be around themselves all the time.

Originally published in the Birmingham Business Journal May 7, 2010: bit.ly/a-holes

(OK, so it doesn’t work for everybody.)

In the space of roughly 3 minutes during Jay Leno’s 9:00 debut show on September 14, Kanye West effectively transformed himself from a leading candidate for my personal All-Time Celebrity Buffoon award to a guy I suddenly liked way more than I ever did before his Taylor Swift / VMA blunder.

If you’re now scratching your head for an explanation (and I salute your noble disregard of our ever-declining pop culture), Kanye West—on September 13—interrupted teen country singer Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech during MTV’s Video Music Awards ceremony to proclaim Beyonce the rightful recipient of Swift’s award. The good news is, even an MTV audience (never a bellwether of social grace) still recognizes abject egotism when they see it—and promptly showered West with a downpour of angry boos.

Talk about a George Costanza moment: “Was that wrong? Should I not have done that?” Actually, Kanye: No, you shouldn’t have. But so what? We’re talking about a superstar here—why should he care? Or so I thought. I was wrong. The next night, Kanye—who was already scheduled to perform on Leno—asked for a few moments to publicly apologize for his actions. Below is an excerpt of that apology.

“I’m just ashamed that [I] caused someone else’s hurt…And I don’t try to justify it because I was just in the wrong…Period. But I need to, after this, take some time off and just analyze how I’m going to make it through the rest of this life, how I’m going to improve.”

As a longtime observer of public apologies, what I found so extraordinary was this: There’s not even the hint of an excuse in those words. And while the online responses to the apology were overwhelmingly dismissive, I watched the video clip—and I believed him. More importantly, I applauded him.

What I didn’t know, until well after the fact, is that the VMA flap is far from Kanye’s first public ego trip. Still, the point here remains valid: Whether you’re a multiplatinum-selling rapper, a major corporate CEO, or a part-time checker at Burger Doodle, nothing restores a damaged image more effectively than a genuine, heartfelt apology.

Let me put it as simply as possible. When you screw up: Say. You’re. Sorry. And mean it. And don’t ever, EVER, use the word “but”. No matter how well-crafted the reasoning, “I’m sorry, but..” isn’t an apology. It’s an insult.

Which is not to say that extenuating circumstances cannot be incorporated into an apology. They can be—and, in many instances, should be. But not if the net result is a non-apology. Here’s a classic example: After former Alabama Governor Guy Hunt was found, in 1991, to have used the state plane for transportation to multiple preaching engagements that earned him thousands dollars, he issued the following statement: “I made a mistake when I failed to realize how a simple worship service in the practice of my personal religious faith could turn into such a controversy. And for that error in judgment, I am sorry.”

That’s not an apology for royally bilking Alabama taxpayers for his own personal gain. It’s a middle finger for the people who had a problem with it.

Two years later, former Attorney General Janet Reno took full responsibility for the disastrous FBI attack on the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas—which left 75 dead, including 25 children. She stared straight into the cameras and said, “I made the decisions; I’m accountable. The buck stops with me.” She later assured Ted Koppel on Nightline that she would resign if necessary. Had a Presidential election been held the next day, Reno would have won in a landslide.

All that said, there’s no guarantee that an apology—no matter how heartfelt and genuine—will always make everything better. Some people just aren’t willing to forgive—no matter what. The good news for you is, that’s their problem.

Originally published in the Birmingham Business Journal,  October 5, 2009