Project Mayhem

Nope.

(They told me in Journalism 101 to get to the point quickly).

I admit, it’s a bit harsh, so lemmee back up a bit.

Part of my role – and Jeremy’s role – is to “foster creativity, at all levels, throughout the network.” That’s part of our mandate, with the help of others across the Global Catalyst Network. BUT, that’s not teaching. That’s elevating. Inspiring. Facilitating. Not Teaching. And there’s a difference.

Why do some view the possibility of teaching creativity as important? A few reasons:

1. Most importantly, creativity is the centerpiece of our competitive differentiation. Creativity is our currency; it’s what sets us apart from other agencies, and creative output will become more and more important as consumers become more marketing savvy. This is an oversimplification to be sure, but broadly speaking, the more great creative output you have, the greater the chance that you’re going to strike gold with ideas. (The good news is that as an agency, we’re already pretty great at this).

2. Creativity is the new sense of humor. Everyone wants to believe they’re creative. And when you tell people they’re not, especially in this business, it’s an attack on their worth to the organization – not to mention their self worth.

3. Creativity – or lack thereof – has far reaching implications. Creativity influences problem solving, execution of strategy, counsel to our clients, application of new tools (e.g., in the social media realm), etc. Heavy stuff.

4. You can teach most other things in our business. Writing, media pitching, financial oversight, etc. – all things critical to our business. Why shouldn’t you be able to teach something so fundamentally important to our industry?

Why CAN’T you teach creativity? Why is that so elusive? Well, to begin with, creativity is poorly defined area of expertise. We’ve discussed this before – it’s similar to the pornography test: I Know It When I See It. Compounding that issue, creativity also has degrees of usefulness and appropriateness. What’s creative for HP isn’t going to be creative for H&M. Creative output is very subjective and has no guidelines that transcend any particular task or assignment. The nebulous nature of creativity makes it nearly impossible to standardize – and therefore, impossible to measure quantitatively. So, developing a formalized structure that would allow instruction becomes problematic.

So, we’re stuck, right? Not exactly. Because here’s the secret. Most people ARE creative. Most people have that creative spark. Most people who aren’t seen as creative haven’t been given the opportunity to maximize their creative power.

I’ve seen it first hand. A team member isn’t viewed as creative, based on a multitude of factors that might limit their creative output – introverted personality, fear of ridicule, an unwelcome environment. That person is then consistently left out of creative sessions and/or given assignments with limited creative potential – thereby exasperating the issue. Before you know it, that person gains a reputation as “not creative” and is never given the chance to flourish.

So what do we do to draw creativity out of these people? How can we maximize their creativity? How do we give people the tools to build and express their own creativity?

I’ll tell you next year…

Happy Holidays,

Marc

OK, let the groveling commence:  This blog has turned into a log.  As in “dead limb.”  As we all understand in today’s world of new media and self-publishing, content is king.  And for the better part of the last six months, Project Mayhem has been a feudal serf.

So here’s the promise: You’ll get a minimum of one post per week for the rest of my life.  If for any reason i fail to fulfill this promise, I will write another “apology” post and make a similarly lame promise in the hopes that you’ll keep coming back for more.

So what have I been up to, you don’t ask?  Well, as of Monday, I’ll have completed an insane stretch of five new business pitches in six weeks.  We’re 2-1 so far, with one pending and another to come, so feeling pretty good about things.  It’s interesting to note that I avoided profanity in all but four pitches, so I’m pretty proud of myself.  Hopefully, with the insanity behind me, I’ll be able to return to my normal level of “crazy” after the holiday break and get down with the business of overall creativity.

In the meantime, happy holidays, have a great new year, and if anyone can help me find my car keys, I’d be forever in your debt.

xoxo

Marc

A riddle: What one word scares more corporate heads than Mike Wallace with a camera crew?  Hint: it has only four letters and when spoken in a corporate meeting causes the same reaction as yelling “Bullshit!”   Final hint:  presidents Lincoln, Taft, Roosevelt and George W. Bush all used it in their inaugural addresses. 

Give up?   

“Risk.”

Risk to most corporations is like sunlight to a vampire, sending execs cowering weakly back into the darkness, comforted by the sameness of their decades-old ideas and well-oiled processes.  What they fail to realize, however, is that risk is the inseparable, albeit sometimes ugly, twin to leadership.  How can you lead if you’re waiting for someone else to go first? 

Many executives who are afraid to take risks mask that fear by mocking unsuccessful attempts by their competitors to do things differently.  They’ll often go to great lengths to find data or surveys that reinforce their belief that the concept failed, because that way, they can feel good about going back to the safety of their coffins and settling in for a long daytime nap. 

Focus Groups Kill

The number one weapon risk-adverse executives use to kill ideas is called a focus group.  Much like the famed Raid bug spray, focus groups Kill … Ideas… Dead.  It’s amazing how a total of 50 to 100 people in separate focus groups across the country can serve as irrefutable spokespersons for 300 million people, dictating what they should watch, wear, use or refuse. Can you imagine going to one doctor who recommends having both your legs removed and agreeing to do it without any further study or consideration?  For most companies, “It didn’t test well in focus groups,” is the ultimate a cappella funeral dirge. 

Unfortunately, focus-groups are running rampant, forcing homogenized changes in everything from the movies we see to the products we buy.  I once sat in a
Hollywood movie-screening where the facilitator asked how the ending of a movie made us feel.  I could clearly detect his concern when the majority of us at the screening replied “Sad.” Helloooo?  It was a drama, you moron, and the hero dies in the end.  You’re supposed to feel sad! 

I pulled this interesting posting from a blog I was reading the other day. It’s a quote from writer Jane Austin regarding a test-screening for her move Pride and Prejudice:

‘…They changed it [the ending] because 90 percent of American test audiences didn’t like it. Yes, well done
Hollywood focus groups, but your results are skewed. It was 90 percent of test audiences who didn’t like the ending, but, by definition, it was therefore 90 percent of the sort of Americans who go to test screenings who didn’t like the ending. And the sort of Americans who go to test screenings are the sort of Americans who only go to test screenings because, in return for their obese worthless opinion, they are promised a skid- full of free oil-butter fat corn and three buckets of all you can drink fizzy lard.’” 

While it may sound like the final bell for fresh ideas in corporate
America, there are a few mavericks out there: Ted Turner.   Turner said he never bothered to test the idea of CNN, the first all-news network, he just “saw and need and filled it.”  And then there are some PR and ad agencies who serve as a creative version of the Horse Whisperer to clients [insert shameless plug for Cohn & Wolfe], constantly pushing them toward newer, edgier ideas and programs – that is, if they can just pass the focus group test. 

I think every client should be required to read this quote from Henry Ford before each focus group:  “If I had asked my customers what they wanted, they would have said a faster horse.”  As Virgin Atlantic CEO Steve Ridgway said in a recent interview during which he was explaining the new innovations Virgin Atlantic had introduced despite poor focus group testing, “Sometimes customers don’t know what they don’t know.”

While my wish is for more brand-marketing heads to think like Turner, Ridgway and Ford, a recent brainstorm exercise I conducted with a client might suggest otherwise.  I offered several examples of dare-to-be-great moments, including such moments as JFK’s powerful “we will put man on the moon by the end of the decade” speech.   I then asked each brainstorm participant in the room to write down what they wanted to make their dare-to-be-great moment for the company by the end of the year.  I then asked them to pass their responses forward to me.  The first one I looked at read, “Be more positive.” 

Hmmmm…. Now where did I put that wooden stake…

– Jeremy

This month, a dozen 7-11 stores across the country turned into “Kwik-E-Marts,” a real-life version of the animated stores featured on the Simpson’s television series. The nationwide stunt is promoting the new Simpson’s Movie. This seems like a no-brainer: generate big publicity for 7-11.  Dig deeper, however, and you’ll uncover some serious risk taking. In the television series, the fictional Kwik-E-Marts often portray convenience stores in a negative light, e.g., expensive goods, poor food quality and ongoing targets for crime and general mayhem. The 7-11 chain is taking a risk with its brand – and the entire industry – by allowing for some self-deprecating fun, while boosting brand awareness.What risks are you and your clients prepared to take? Are you offering your clients a steady stream of unconventional, creative?   During the next brainstorm, think about allocating 30 minutes at the end of the storm for a “Superhero Segment.” Here, the brand becomes a Superhero, complete with Super powers. That means nothing can go wrong, no one can be harmed and everything turns out right. List all the things you would do in this supper safe world.

Let me say, before we begin, I’m not Scottish.  I have never played the bagpipes, nor have I ever waxed poetic about peat.  But I almost bought a kilt. 

Almost.

I was in Seattle this past weekend to visit the city with friends and take in three games at one of the true treasures of baseball, Safeco Field.  Now if you’ve never been to Seattle, i have to say — first-rate town.  I mean, really beautifully designed.  A vibrant business district sandwiched between a park district with museums and universities and an historic district, where we find yours truly passing a shop that sold kilts.

Now, many of you might conjure images of some bizarre, musty shop with old tartans and ancient golf paraphernalia.  You’d be dead wrong.  Picture a kilt shop run by Rob Zombie.  This place was edgy.  Dark.  Kilts in solid blacks and shades of charcoal.  Funky patterns that looked more like Jackson Pollack on acid than anything ever seen at St. Andrews.  And they looked cool.

The staff at the shop (all male) wore them with obvious pride.  No short pants for these folks.  Leave those to the Parrot Heads.  Jeans?  I’m not working construction, chief.  Khaki slacks?  Let me know when you’re due back at the Banana Republic window, fella.  These guys looked cool, confident and in charge.  And most of all, they looked comfortable!

So why didn’t i purchase one?  Well, in a nutshell, I’m not cool, confident nor in charge.  I wish to neither fight nor run.  And my boss can be a jackhole about stuff like this.  I mean, he won’t even let me wear shorts to the office.

So, i continue to suffer in silence, in long pants, while my spiritual hipster-Scottish brothers fight for the freedom our knees so clearly long for.

But it did get me thinking about risk taking, which is a central tenant of creativity.  By its very definition, creativity is about risk taking.  Getting out on the ledge.  Being different.  Embracing change and looking at things from a different point of view.  If i can’t wear the kilt, I can at least think like I’m wearing one.  So while my below-the-waist apparel will continue to flow from the pearly gates of the Gap, above the neck — I’m a kilt-wearin’ Scot.

Marc

A shout out to my barber, Fred.  Barber, you say?  Yes, I have some hair, just not a lot of it – and getting less every year.  But I digress…

I don’t go to get my haircut at Fred’s shop because I need to.  In fact, nobody who goes to Fred’s shop really needs anything more than a snip here and there. That’s because the average age of Fred’s customers dates back to the Pleistocene.  No, hair is probably the last reason anybody goes to Fred. Truth is, Fred and his partner, Jerry, are average barbers at best. The reason people go to Fred shop is because of, well … Fred.

For 30 years, Fred has been cutting hair in his Pico Boulevard barber shop in Los Angeles.  I don’t know if it’s been that long, really, I’m just guessing by the faded black and white photos; the worn discolored floor tiles; the vintage hair-style chart showing hairstyles that have gone in and out a dozen times already; and the yellowed note that has somehow managed to remain taped to the wall and reads, “No Swearing.”  (This is a rule that Fred will sometimes strictly enforce and other times ignore altogether.  It is generally ignored when he happens to be talking – preaching – about politics.)

I remember the day I first walked into Fred’s shop.  I felt a little self conscious at first.  There was a customer in Fred’s seat, a customer in Jerry’s seat, and five customers waiting.  All eyes turned toward me as I walked in.  But that wasn’t what made me feel uncomfortable; it was because I was the only white guy in the shop.  I’m not used to being the minority and it felt odd – but only for a moment.  Whatever awkwardness I had was quickly wiped away by Fred.  His white speckled hair, slightly crooked stance and loud, but friendly, tone made me feel instantly welcome. 

“How ya doin’, young man?” Fred asked, sensing my discomfort. (I’m 46.) “We got two in the chair and two waiting,” he continued, peering over his glasses. “But, it won’t be long,” he explained.  “That is,” he added with a smirk, “If Jerry here would just pick up the pace a little bit.”  Jerry’s response was — as always, I would soon come to learn — barely audible.  Everyone seems to hear him but me – even when he’s cutting my hair.  Everybody hears Jerry just fine, while I hear about every third word.

“What?  Why you always [mumble, mumble, mumble], and I know [mumble, mumble, mumble] so that’s why you [mumble, mumble, mumble.].”

Two waiting.  Always.  Five people sitting there, but only two waiting.  The others are generally there for the same reason I go there – Fred.  During the holidays, Fred always cooks up a meal and keeps it heated in the backroom of his shop.  He fancies himself an even better chef than a barber.  “Help yourself,” he says nodding toward the backroom without missing a beat with his scissors.  “Got some turkey back there, some coleslaw and grits, you gotta have grits.” 

All of Fred’s “customers” sit and eat and listen to Fred.  Fred engages his audience in deep discussions, often baiting them with questions he knows will cause feverish discourse.  “Boys, you think this county will elect a woman before they elect a black man?” he yells in his tutorial tone.  Sports is also big with the group.  And, since this is Los Angeles, the topic usually centers around
Kobe.  “That boy can play ball, now.”  “Of course he makes a lotta money, look what he does for the team!” “What the hell was Kobe thinking?!” 

Probably the only topic that gets covered more than others is family.  Fred not only knows the names of all of his customers, he knows their wives’ names … and their kids … and the schools they attend (college and/or high school) … and their pet’s name.  I’m serious. 

Last week when I went to get my haircut it didn’t seem quite the same; things were a little off.  The guys weren’t trash talking each other like they usually did.  It was too quiet; weird; different.  And then I noticed it.  There, posted behind Fred’s chair, was a memorial picture of one of their own.  His name was Doc, a Howard University graduate, a decorated Colonel of the Korean conflict and a “dentist to the stars,” as I noted on the memorial flier.   I didn’t’ know any of that.  Doc fell ill in January and by June he was gone; taken by Lou Gehrig’s disease.  Doc was a cherubic man with a booming voice and one of the few customers who could go toe-to-toe with Fred on any topic. 

“Can I have one of these,” I asked Fred, pointing to one of the fliers he had stacked on his counter.  “Of course, son, of course,” he said, seeming touched that I asked.  Fred stared at the picture before handing it to me as if it were Holy Communion.  “He was a good man.  A good man,” he said, softly.  “Too young.” 

Fred’s shop is one of three barber shops on Pico Boulevard near where I live.  If you didn’t know who Fred was, you would still know his shop.  It’s the one with no parking available and a collection of “customers” waiting for an okay haircut and the best customer service in town. 

Nobody spent thousands of dollars on fancy multi-media employee videos to teach Fred about customer service.  And he doesn’t have some clever internal slogan designed to motivate him or remind him how the customer always comes first.  He receives no awards, no trips and no recognition for his above-and-beyond service.  That’s because what Fred has can’t be trained, taught or instructed.  It just is – and the “it,” is Fred.  A lot of companies could use a few Freds on their employee roster.  Hell, if airlines would hire some Freds they wouldn’t have to worry about price wars with competing airlines, people would be clogging their terminals waiting to pay more for a chance to fly on Forget about Ted Airline; I want “Fred’s Airline.” 

Here’s a simple idea for the millions of companies out there searching for new ways to improve customer service:  Have someone answer the phone.  Not something, someone.

 

The push-button purgatory customers are relegated to these days is so infuriating, it borders on cruel and unusual punishment. Perhaps a provision should be added to our 8^th amendment right: No person shall be subject to cruel and unusual punishment or extensive and/or extraordinary push-button phone webs. 

 

I called India yesterday, well, technically, it was my health insurance company, but I was routed to
India.   I had a simple question regarding my policy:  had it been renewed?  The date on my old card was past the expiration, but I had not received a new card.  Upon dialing the “Customer Service” number of the back of the card, I was stunned but extremely pleased to hear a living, breathing human answer the phone – and on the third ring!  That was until I realized I had called the wrong department: 

 

“Mental abuse hotline,” said the person on the other end. 

 

“Oh, I, uh, was just checking to see if my insurance had been renewed or not,” I stumbled.  “You see, on the expiration date on my card,” the voice interrupted me.

 

“Excuse me, sir, said the measured tone. “Are you thinking of committing suicide?”

 

“No, heck no,” I said.  “I was just checking to see if my card was…”

 

“Sir, I think you dialed the 800 number on the back of your card, you need to dial the number on the front of the card – that’s our Customer Service department.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” I said, embarrassed.  “Uhhhh,” I hesitated.  “Can you, uh, transfer me?”

 

“No, I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have that capability here, this is strictly for patients with serious issues who have immediate needs.”

 

I thought for a moment that I qualified, if I didn’t make sure my card was renewed, I could be out some serious bucks.  I decided not to press the issue and thanked my suicide prevention friend.

 

Upon calling the customer Service number, I was offered seven — yes, seven — prompts, including the first one that says, “Please listen to all the menu items because some of our menu options have changed.”  Why can’t the menus just stay the same like they do at McDonald’s?  That’s probably because most companies have wised up to the fact that people always push “Zero” in the off-chance of getting an operator without having to sift through all the menu items .  Now companies tuck the operator number somewhere among the seven prompts. 

 

I listened to all seven prompts and, no surprise, not one of them said, “If you’re not sure if your card has been renewed, please press…”  That would have been too easy.  I tried pressing number three on a whim.  I again had to enter my account number before proceeding.  Five minutes later, I was trapped in phone-web hell with a looping prompt that suggested I “press five for more help.” I pressed five, which took me back to, “Please listen to all the menu items because some of our menu options have changed.” 

 

I began pushing random buttons while cursing at the inanimate voice on the other end.  “Of course you don’t recognize that prompt you F’n moron,” I ranted.  “That’s because you’re a pre-recorded ass-message.”  I continued to rant against the monotone message until I was out of breath. It was reminiscent of a scene from “2001: A Space Odyssey:” 

Dave Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

HAL: I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.

Dave Bowman: What’s the problem?

HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.

Dave Bowman: I don’t know what you’re talking about, HAL?

HAL: I know you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I’m afraid that’s something I cannot allow to happen.

 

Dave Bowman: What are you talking about, HAL?

 

After “testing” each menu-option number, I finally found a prompt that said, “For all other questions press…”  That’s me!! Yes!  I was then transferred to a “customer service representative who would assist you with your question.”  After listening to muzak for another minute or two, I was finally transferred.  Hallelujah, I had survived!  I had outlasted the prompt-asorous, the automated monster, I had beaten Hal!!! 

 

“Hello,” said the friendly voice.

 

“Hi,” I replied exasperated.  “I was just calling…”

 

‘Due the Memorial Day Holiday, the Customer Service Department you have reached is closed.  Please call back during normal working hours between the times of…”

 

I wanted to cry.  I wave of anger, frustration and helplessness came over me.  I turned the card over and dialed.  The operator picked it up on the first ring.

 

“Mental abuse hotline, may I help you?”

 

“Yes, I replied.  “It’s good to finally talk to someone.”

 

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1zv6w_the-break-up

April Fool’s Day — a day that says as much about the resulting antics as it does about the clowns who perpetrate them; the same people who send “Happy Monday” emails.
April Fool’s Day gives license to every jokester awaiting his or her chance to showcase their hidden “Yuk Yuk” skills. It’s the Karaoke equivalent of wannabe Divas awaiting their moment to shine while they sing the hundredth rendition of “It’s Raining Men.” Everybody from local news anchors to lamp-shade-wearing office pranksters view this day as their big opportunity to prove why they should have their own prime-time comedy series. Instead, they end up providing the best arguments for changing the Day’s name to April It’s-Okay-to-Be-A-Dick Day.

While writing this entry, it occurred to me I had no idea who started the whole April Fool’s thing. A little research revealed that it actually began in Europe. Once I determined the country of origin, it all made sense. Hint: It’s the same country with a maximum 35-hour work week; a mandatory five week vacation policy and the infamous Maginot line which held about as well as Cleveland’s pass defense. You guessed it, C’est le Français. Viva la French dips!

April Fool’s evolved after the Gregorian calendar was revised. This changed New Year’s Eve from landing on April 1 to January 1. Apparently, some of the country folk in France heard about the change but others didn’t, and some ignored it all together. These mutants were labeled “fools.” Interestingly, my research also lead me to discover that Scotland actually celebrates two April Fool’s Days. The first is reserved for general pranks, while the second is devoted to only those practical jokes involving the rear … as in the butt … your posterior … your extrémité arrière … your ass. Ooooo, beam me up, Scotty! Yee Haw!

Some of the most egregious April Fool’s Day stunts aren’t pulled by people, but companies. Burger King’s announcement a few years back about its “left-handed burger” comes to mind here. I can just envision that brainstorm: “Now THAT’s funny, gosh darn it — high five, Jim!” Admittedly, I’ve been in my share of brainstorms where we played with April Fool’s Day ideas for clients. None made it, but here are some headlines I’d like to see.

IHOP Recalls 125,000 Pancakes
Microsoft Teams With Viagra
Branson Strikes Deal With Vodka Brand to Form Absolute Virgin
Jet Blue Extends Service to Include In-flight Depends
California Milk Advisory Board to Sponsor Pam Anderson Got Milk Commercial

Feel free to add any of your own…

The contest: Name Jeremy’s Kidney Stone
Win a dream date with Jeremy! (Second Prize. First Prize: You get to stay home.)

Please send your entries to Project Mayhem, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, Washington, DC, something-something-something-something-something dash something-something-something-something. Entries must be postmarked by Jan 1, 1974. No reproductions allowed. Entries must include a self-addressed stamped envelope, so that we can respond with naked photos of Ben Franklin. All entries become property of my wastebasket. Void in Oslo. Members of Nickleback’s road crew are not eligible for entry.