Our topic is PR blunders, and was inspired by two classic gaffes I discovered just today.

NUMBER 1: THAT’S YOUR LAST SHRED OF CREDIBILITY SAILING AWAY.

By now, you’ve surely heard that BP CEO Tony “I Want My Life Back” Hayward gloriously reclaimed some of his old life this past weekend by competing in a yacht race. Unsurprisingly, that bracing jaunt was in the jolly clean seas around Great Britain’s Isle Of Wight. Not the Gulf Of Mexico—where Hayward has, once again, defied predictions that his image couldn’t get any worse than it already is.

Let’s be honest here: There is nothing good Tony can do for BP at this point, short of allowing the company to fire him—and issue a tersely-worded press release announcing the decision.

Let me make this point clear: Hayward would be doing BP an additional disservice by resigning. The public doesn’t want to see an act of sacrifice from Hayward—and wouldn’t believe him if he said it was his decision. We want to see his ass summarily tossed to the curb. And if he ever wants people to like him again, a public firing is a lot more effective than a resignation in generating the sympathy “foundation” on which he can begin rebuilding his image.

So what else would I do if I were BP? First, I’d hire another PR firm. One, by the way, that’s smarter—and more experienced—in crisis management than I am. But off the top of my head, I would start by using Social Media the way it’s intended to be used: As a dialog medium—not a broadcast medium. Angry people are going to be posting nasty messages about you all over Facebook anyhow; why not give them more freedom to do so on your own page—where you can at least control the response?

Second, I would expand the campaign BP has already launched—profiling actual Gulf area residents involved in the cleanup effort. I like Barryl Willis, the Louisianan whom BP has featured in print and TV ads, discussing his commitment to Gulf residents in leading his company’s legal claims process. For starters, he’s not Tony Hayward.

But I’d take that idea a step further: I’d start profiling non-BP employees working with the company on the cleanup. LOTS of them. I’d even consider building a website featuring those people. Maybe even allow them to blog about their experiences.

Yes, there’s clearly a risk this idea could lead to some negative blogging. But if BP demonstrated absolute goodwill with those people in its mission to make things right, and faithfully followed-up on problems those folks encountered in their own cleanup efforts, I’ll bet they’d start winning some converts.

Got a classic PR gaffe—new or old—that you’d like me to add to this column? Shoot me an email ( francis@harebrains.com ), and I’ll post the best of the best.

COMING SOON…Part Two: This Little Piggie Went WeeWeeWee All The Way To Court.

I was at lunch the other day with a buddy who posed a question I stopped asking a long time ago: “Why is radio in Birmingham so bad?” The broad answer is, “Because radio is bad everywhere”.

That said, this is not a Bash-The-Radio column. There are plenty of good people working in commercial radio—and there are any number of clients to whom I have enthusiastically recommended it as an effective, cost-efficient medium for targeting their clients.

However, as an artistic medium, I have long used radio as the quintessential example of the danger in ad agencies always doing exactly what their clients ask. In general, smart clients (who, by the way, constitute the vast majority of accounts we’ve served over the years) hire communications firms like ours because we have experience and expertise they don’t have, and we know things they don’t know.

Thankfully, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a new business prospect say, “I have a computer at home with a whole suite of layout programs—so why should I hire you to produce my ads?” You know what, I have a piano at home. That doesn’t make me Thelonious Monk.

All of which is to say that we don’t always agree with our clients’ ideas and suggestions. Of course, we don’t fight with them (who wants an agency like that?). But we’ll certainly offer well-reasoned arguments for pursuing ideas we believe to be more strategically-sound. As far as I’m concerned, that’s one of the main services they pay for—and following a direction I flatly consider unwise, without breathing a word of concern, is (in my opinion) nothing short of professional negligence.

So whenever we disagree with a client, and they absolutely insist on having it their way, I tell them (in so many words): We’ll do what you want. After all, last time I checked, you hired us to produce work for you—not ourselves. But if this develops into a pattern, and we do only what you suggest, eventually you’ll end-up hating us. Just like people hate the radio.

So the more specific answer to my friend’s question (which I’m going to re-word): Why do people hate the radio? Because radio stations play exactly what research says they want to hear.

Once upon a time, before the suits in Research started controlling playlists, commercial radio stations had DJ’s who actually knew—and cared about—music. Yes, there was, in fact, a time when commercial radio DJ’s actually had the authority to play what they wanted people to hear. And a lot of what they played was stuff that took some getting used to. Yes, there was, in fact, a time when commercial radio listeners were actually willing to give challenging new music a chance.

Radio was cool when stations routinely played cool stuff people had never heard before. Which is why research killed cool: People don’t know what they don’t know—and very few of us are willing to invest the time and effort needed to investigate stuff they don’t already know.

So when you ask listeners what they want to hear, all they can tell you is what they already know—which usually isn’t that much. And the longer playlists are based only on what people already know, the dumber those playlists get—which is why, inevitably, those same listeners will eventually hate you.

Which is also why clients inevitably end-up hating agencies who do only what they ask for. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this complaint from prospects working with other shops: “I don’t know what we pay them for. We give them the ideas, we write the copy, and all they do is lay it out and take the 15% commission.” The problem: Either the client has a dumb agency, or the agency has a dumb client. Or both. Regardless, nobody’s best interests are being served.

Needless to say, ad agencies aren’t the only businesses routinely facing the same dilemma. Think, for instance, how many litigators have looked like utter morons because they couldn’t convince dumb clients to stay off the witness stand.

So how you deal with a client who absolutely-positively won’t listen to your best advice? If you can afford to fire them, do. In most cases, for the sake of your reputation, you can’t afford not to.

But every now and then, that simply isn’t possible—without, for instance, people you employ losing their jobs. In cases like that (to paraphrase one of Birmingham’s ad legends—who preferred to comment off the record), do what they say. Make absolutely-positively certain they’ll never forget you tried to give them your best professional advice. And take the money. After all, they’re going to pay somebody to follow orders. It might as well be you instead of the guys down the street. At the same time, know that the relationship isn’t going to last—so start looking for their replacement immediately.

Originally published 5/28/10 in the Birmingham Business Journal. http://bit.ly/hearno

With the series finales of Lost and 24 airing Sunday and last night, a huge chunk of my cultural life over the past decade has come to an end in just two days.

I was thoroughly pleased with the Lost finale—primarily because it offered genuine emotional closure for me. But also because I’ve never been particularly concerned with making “sense” of the show’s Byzantine plot twists or its alternate-universe reality—so I didn’t have any giant questions I needed answered. That said, if you were a fan, Time.com’s James Poniewozick wrote an excellent review of the show—and the finale: http://bit.ly/bzScaB

On the other hand, I was fairly disappointed with the last few weeks of 24—particularly in watching Jack Bauer transformed from a crusading superhero to a vindictive, cold-blooded killer. Still, the show (and Jack) already had more than enough credit in my goodwill bank to make the season worthwhile.

All that said, I figured this was as good an opportunity as any to publicly disclose something I’ve admitted, without shame, for years: On the whole, I like television better than the movies. Here’s why:

First, I rarely have the time, or the patience, to watch an entire movie on a Friday or Saturday—much less on a weeknight. With my DVR, an hour show on basic cable is 50 minutes, tops. AND there’s always the possibility that I’ll catch a really good commercial among all the lame ones I fast-forward past.

Second, TV is a writer’s medium. TV producers don’t have budgets for the special effects that dominate most Hollywood films these days, so they’re actually forced to focus on the stories. And there are plenty of shows that tell stories I like. (Although I do think the vast majority of TV comedy these days is so bad it’s not even funny).

Third, a month of cable TV—most of which is available in HD—is less than the cost to take the family to a single movie (particularly if you buy Coke and popcorn). Because of that, I’m a lot more easily satisfied by TV than movies.

Not that my overall standards have dropped, but I just don’t bring the same (often unreasonable) expectations to TV that I do to movies. At the same time, on a strictly objective level, I can list any number of TV shows which have genuinely impressed me over the past couple years—but very few movies. And yeah, I know that’s partly my fault—because I’m not willing to invest the necessary effort to find movies I’ll really like; but even if I was, I still don’t have the time to watch them.

Fourth, a lot more people watch TV—so there are a lot more opportunities to make reasonably meaningful small talk, day in and out.

And finally, TV is in my house—and at my age, that’s pretty much where I want to be. Which (to be perfectly honest) is one of the reasons it’s best to call me at the office, if there’s something important you need to discuss with me. Like, for instance, what you watched on TV last night.

Erin and Seth recently got a bulldog puppy. Seth brought it to the office last week. While everyone was eww-ing ahh-ing and awwwww-ing, Kathy (our brilliant art director) grabbed her camera and hit the floor.

One mark of a great photographer is timing. And luck. Based on the shot below, I think you can reasonably say Kathy is a great photographer. If you need further proof, check-out her website: http://kathysheridan.com/

Yes, this is a candid photo.
(However, Erin’s feet have been Photo-Tanned to spare her further mortification.)

By the way: If you’d like to see this photo larger, click on the image. Then hold down your Control button, and roll your mouse-roller forward, to zoom in.

Anyhow, that photo instantly struck me as a Motivational Poster waiting to happen. Below is what I came-up with—pretty much off the top of my head. Feel free to post your own headline submissions—and maybe I’ll lay-out the best of the best. (Again, click-and-mouse-roll, if you wanna zoom).

OUR FIRST SUBMISSION!
Andy Odum, one of the best copywriters of all time (did I say it right, Andy?), sent me the headline below less than 10 minutes after I emailed a link to this post:

(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

(He’s in the middle, wearing the Parliament T-Shirt)

Fletcher signed-up for Rock Band as his elective this Spring—and the band had its public debut in Birmingham’s world-famous Spencer Center last night.

Click here for a sonic blast of primal rock at its absolute rawest. (Warning: May be disturbing to pets and small children).

http://bit.ly/rokkband

(THIS WEEK’S SOUNDLINKS COLUMN)

A NOTE OF INTRODUCTION: I recently discovered, much to my surprise, that not everyone on earth has heard of Wilco, so here’s my two cents’ worth:

Not since the Beatles’ mid to late period—from Rubber Soul to The White Album—has any band in pop music successfully jumped across as many genres as Wilco did, over the course of their first six albums (which included two collaborative efforts with Billy Bragg).

Full article here: http://bit.ly/wilcolumn

Sunday, April 11 marked the final round of the only golf tournament I watch every year. Which got me thinking why I have to watch The Masters—but no other annual tournament.

After all, several U.S. courses are ranked ahead of Augusta in both Golf.com and Golflink.com’s Top 100 lists. At least seven PGA tournaments match or exceed The Masters’ prize money for first place. It’s located in a town that’s never been widely renowned for anything outside of the tournament. And the entrance to Augusta National is about a block from an unsightly stretch of four-lane Generica.

So what is it about the Masters that makes it possibly the most prestigious brand in all of sport? I think it has to do with the reverence Augusta National has shown for the game of golf since its earliest days—and the standards of behavior that go with it.

I spent a Friday at the Masters in 2004, and I can honestly say it was the most respectful crowd of people I’ve ever seen. Anywhere. Think about that: The typical Masters attendee is a corporate titan who’s accustomed to hearing his minions drool praise over every thought that proceeds from his often-wide-open mouth. And yet, when any golfer (down to the lowliest teenage amateur) is lining-up a putt, you could close your eyes and swear you were the only person standing beside the green.

That standard of behavior extends to every square inch inside those hallowed grounds—including the concession area (where, by the way, you can still get an egg salad sandwich for $1.50 and a Heineken for $2). Everyone, on both sides of the counter, is polite, patient and genuinely friendly.

My favorite Augusta National policy is stated in bold type on the course maps (which are distributed to patrons free of charge): If you are found with a beeper or cell phone inside the grounds, you will be removed immediately, and your ticket privileges will be revoked for life.

All of which adds up to a magic you cannot find anywhere else in the sports world—including the Royal Ascot Race in Great Britain, where it’s a lot more about “who’s wearing what” than it is about the competition. And which is why I consider a recent phenomenon to be not merely an unspeakable irritant, but an outright threat to The Masters brand itself. That would be the village idiot bellowing, immediately after every golf shot, “GIT IN THE HOLE!!!”

Consciously or not, the buffoon who shouts this at The Masters has somehow convinced himself that doing so actually enhances enjoyment of the tournament for his fellow attendees, the millions watching at home and the golfers. I’d like to meet a single human being who delights in hearing it once. Much less over and over. And over. And over.

If you asked me, the folks at Augusta National should extend their beeper + cell phone policy to those “GIT IN THE HOLE” monkeys. It cheapens the experience—and with it, The Masters brand. Long before anyone at Augusta National gave a single conscious thought about “branding”, they built The Masters magic on an implicit code of comportment.

Which is why Augusta National chairman Billy Payne is probably the only man alive who could read Tiger Woods the riot act for his off-the-course behavior, and get away with it. For all his personal flaws, Tiger understands that there are simply things you don’t do at Augusta National. For me, that would include loudly ordering a ball to git in the hole. And, hopefully for the last time in Tiger’s career, cursing after a bad shot. Seriously, dude: You’re at The Masters. Act like it.

(Originally published online by B-Metro magazine, 4.19.10).

http://bit.ly/the-masters

I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I don’t care who shot J.R. I don’t believe Bill Clinton killed Vince Foster or Ron Brown. I do not fear fluoridation’s effects on my precious bodily fluids.

All that said, it does strike me as tremendously “interesting” that my office computer AND my home computer began slowing-down and screwing up, in ways they never had before, about five minutes after the release of Windows 7. More accurately, immediately after the first Updates installed on my Microsoft XP computers, post-Windows-7. Updates that are pretty much installed whether you want them or not.

And here’s what else is interesting: Both of my Windows XP computers now screw-up in the exact same ways. As does Erin’s XP computer—which, naturally, gave her very few problems before the release of Windows 7.

I forget who offered this keen observation in response to my noting that Microsoft sure was working hard to make you want Windows 7, but I agree with them: What Microsoft’s really working hard to make you want is an Apple.