Thursday, August 22, 2013

Insincerely yours


     After some eight years, it dawned on me that I really didn’t fire a particular art director for the reason I had given him. I realized that, way deep down, I had fired him because he used to say, “At the end of the day.” If you have ever been around someone who always said, “At the end of the day,” you know that it is more irritating than “Take it to the next level,” “Going forward” and “Having said that.” Should I lose sleep over it? Probably not.
     “At the end of the day” lacks substance. It also lacks something even more important to the business of advertising: sincerity. Roy S. Durstine wrote, “Advertisements are like people. If a man is sincere you can forgive him almost anything.” Come to think of it, that art director’s work didn't come off sincere, either – it always felt like "advertising".
     It’s like the Kenneth Cole community manager I recently read about. This writer wanted so desperately to be socially relevant that he posted, “Millions are in uproar in #Cairo. Rumor is they heard our new spring collection is now available online at …” I wonder if that guy still has a job. Because if someone is cynical about the product or the business, if someone has an agenda to be funny or post-modern, if someone panders with business-speak to sell an idea, you decrease your chances of finding that singular voice that resonates a little sincerity.
     I’m convinced that behind every great campaign there is at least one enthusiastic creative person. She finds it within herself to believe in the product to such a degree that she radiates enthusiasm and it rubs off on her work. Her ideas are like gasoline on the flame of enthusiasm. She insists on her vision; she fights for her belief; and it’s not simply because she came up with a creative solution. She has passion because she’s certain she’s captured a little bit of her original belief so a little bit of sincerity now squeaks out between the words.
     It’s definitely like people – all kinds can exude sincerity. If a timid person honestly believes he can do a job and you give him a chance, he will probably do just as well as the aggressive type who bounded into your office. Hal Riney had his sincerity; Cliff Freeman had his own. Sincerity can come through any style.
     I don’t have a formula for it. But it’s always amazing when really creative work ends up exuding sincerity; and so disappointing when incredibly clever work never quite gets there. I do, however, know that when something possesses it there is nothing in the work, no single element, that draws attention to itself. You may have been told a story but you didn’t realize that you were told one; there were techniques, but it felt technique-less. “At the end of the day” draws attention to itself because those are words, like all affectations, that are more natural coming out of someone else’s mouth. The disappointment is ironic – we're actually more interested in who is talking than the person who is being emulated, which is why we conclude that if the person (or brand) can betray himself like this, he (or it) will most certainly let us down.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Spots change.


“Advertising above all speaks to the unchanging core of what makes us human, and the work I see these days seems to assume that everyone has changed.” –Ian Mirlin, Fast Company, 10/29/12

     We've always heard that the leopard can't change its spots and, likewise, human beings can't change what makes them human, but while some things are unquestionably immutable, such as men feeling its okay to fart while watching contact sports, some human behavior has changed. It's as if the whirl of technology caught human evolution in its undercurrent, and, after thousands and thousands of years, we're seeing new behavior surfacing.
     At least that's what a friend of mind says. He's an ad guy, but when it comes to technology, much more of a whiz than me. One day I saw him reading Mashable and I swear I couldn't detect his lips moving.
     He says that during the Mesologic Age (that's what he calls the old days before the Y2K bust), consumers were most easily persuaded to buy something when they thought it had been demonstrated, when a simple deduction had taken place with the necessary facts or accepted opinions. In the Mesologic Age, if we thought, "If there is a God and if God knows everything, computer geeks can hardly do so," we concluded, "No way am I going to buy that Newton 2100." But now, people put their faith in technology and advertising has to change with the times. First, a different kind of argument moves people; secondly, a different kind of credibility impresses them; and thirdly, a different emotion compels them. 
     Concerning the argument, human beings are no longer impressed with proof that products work. Demonstrations that reveal advantages, he says, are old school and tedious. People are impressed by a product's potential to make a certain fulfillment and meaning to their lives imaginable.
     Take the Kia ads with hamsters. Here's a car that can't fully satisfy what most people are looking for, so what did they do? They worked on people's perspective. Life as a human being in the 21st century is tough, after all, but if you imagine you're a hamster driving a Kia, you'll be much happier, because it's much easier to be happy as a hamster than as a human being. Suddenly, you have a real opportunity for people.
     Awhile back there was an iPhone ad – remember the one that starred John Malkovich? Not since James Garner and Mariette Hartley for Kodak, have we seen such an adorable repartee. Except now, instead of being burdened with specific functionality and what can or can't be communicated through voice recognition, this ad showed Malkovich experiencing a meaningful moment with the charming Siri. Imagine: a life enriched by true companionship with the voice activation girl!
     And what about the ads for erectile dysfunction? The one that permits you to hit the home run is fine; but the one that makes you imagine a new level of virility, a new height of orgasmic bliss achieved by sitting in separate bathtubs on a hill, holding hands and watching the sunset – that's the real winner.
     Secondly, there's credibility. My friend says, human beings are indifferent to experts, unfazed by credibility and character. Now, social media testimonials are given less often by experts and more often by acquaintances called "friends", and if these friends possess the restricted or limited intellectual resources of a gnat, that's okay. By heeding the recommendation of almost anybody, we are no doubt less likely to be very disappointed by a product and less likely to blame anyone if it disappoints. He reminds us that our Mesological parents may have scolded us kids with, "If Johnny jumps off a cliff, would you follow?" but these days, "following" implies, "If Johnny buys a pair of Sketchers, then I, too, should buy a pair of Sketchers, because it's easier that way, Johnny seems like a nice guy and, heck, the higher the cliff, the more exciting the jump. 
     One more point about these so-called friends. Of all of them, we have to understand the role of a very special blogger, the mommy blogger, the blogger we trust more than any other. If a mommy blogger recommends, say, a Briggs & Stratton rider mower, then we'll be sure to want a Briggs & Stratton rider mower, because while only one person on the planet was believed to be infallible, mommy bloggers are today's equivalent of the pope.
     Finally, there's my friend's third point, about how emotional manipulation takes place. He claims that people no longer feel intensely about things, that while political ads once had to spark pride or outrage, soft drinks...relief, fashion...lust, and so on, humans desire nothing too phlegmatic. Of course, advertisements for video games have to put you in the mood for a violent, bloodthirsty rampage on the scale of a world war; but generally, people desire only the gentle warmth of liking. Liking makes us feel something is cool. Liking is the all-purpose compulsion. If the consumer feels this gentle "like", he or she will have the item rung up. He goes so far as to say that, as differences between friends and acquaintances become blurred, "like" and "love" become interchangeable; and this should be a relief for the human race, because most of the time, that 80's lyric was right on: "Love is a battlefield," anyway.
     Look, my friend says that people have changed and therefore persuasion has to change. I'm not so sure. I recently read a story about Aristotle, who was really the guy to set down these principles for persuasion in the first place. Apparently, Aristotle's wife was always trying to persuade him to stay home and help around the house. She tried all kinds of tactics but he'd always say something like, "I'll take a look at it later" or "It's supposed to make that squeaking sound" and then slip out the back door to meet his buddies from the Academy. It wasn't until she asked him, "Please? For me?" while making puppy eyes that he stayed home one afternoon and cleaned the tile grout. 2,400 years later, "Please? For me?" combined with the effect of puppy eyes is still powerful persuasion. Maybe only some things have changed.