Use the Proper Perspective When Judging Names

When presenting name ideas, your audience of clients or colleagues are going to have their conscious, logical brains working. They'll be thinking, "do I like it?" This behavior doesn't match the actual experience prospects, customers, investors, employees, donors, users (and so on) will have.

Only people in the branding and marketing industry spend much time picking apart the pros and cons of a name, unless the name is truly bad. Then you might find Joe Consumer having a little sarcasm party. But if your name fits your brand, the average prospect doesn't spend a millisecond on logical critique.

The reality is that people experience names on a subconscious, emotional level. Let's say your elevator speech goes something like, "Hi, I'm Bob Smith, a search engine consultant with Gazillions. I help people navigate the web when they're in search of the right kind of information." The listener isn't thinking "Do I like that name? Does it makes sense? Does everyone love that name? Does that name tell the whole story of this company." No, the listener is processing all of what you've told him (and probably scanning you for clues that he can trust you all while running through a list of 20 things he needs to do later that day.) Your business or product name is just one tiny bit of information. When the brain catches it, it goes to work scanning internal files for what the name might be like (or different) and the associated emotions. The brain might register quick hits like, "Gazillions. That's a lot. Sounds kind of fun. Not ordinary. Maybe risky. Must listen more."

I'm by no means saying the name isn't important. In fact, I believe it is a critical part of your brand signaling system. The name sets a tone or provides information or both. Like a logo or any number of other touch points, a name is an entry point to the images and feelings people will form around you, your company, your products and services.

My point is really about the artificial environment of the creative review. Whether you are doing it yourself, working with a consultancy or are a consultant, you must frame your feedback from the perspective of the message receiver. I'm assuming, of course, that you've also evaluated the ideas to make sure they match the thorough brand strategy you've written. Then one driven by your brand essence.

Lesson here: When judging name ideas, remember the reality of the actual future experience, not the pseudo-experience of creative presentations.

Now please, go out and make a great name for yourself.

Some Brands are Just a Blur

What’s the difference between Petco and PetSmart? As far as I’m concerned, these two retailers are guilty of a little thing I like to call “brand blur.” If you stripped the name off of both retailers and walked both stores, I think you’d find little difference. The color schemes are the same. The stores feel the same. Unless I’m missing something, they carry essentially the same product mix. Maybe PetCo has saltwater fish and PetSmart doesn’t. So what?

Brand blur is the resulting effect when the developers of a brand go out to the market and ask “whatdya want?” When you do that, you’re getting the exact same information that the competitors get. So you and the competition both end up with the same approach. To add insult to injury, the research is typically flawed because all it gets at is surface logic. The good, deep, meaty emotional stuff is nowhere to be found in average research. Furthermore, this approach of only asking the prospects and customers what they think neglects to honor the vision and authentic essence of the company that can add a strong competitive advantage.

Another category where I see brand blur is office supply stores. Tell me, do you really see a difference between Office Depot, OfficeMax and Staples? If I separate any of them at any level, it might be Staples. Honestly, I think I’ve been sucked in by their advertising which I feel successfully uses humor to connect with me personally. Yet, inside the store, I feel the same old, same old. And again, these competitors are essentially the same right down to the color palette they use.

In both cases - the pet stores and the office supply stores - as the consumer, I’m reduced to deciding the difference based on location or worse yet, price. As a brand strategist, it makes me a little sad for the brands.

Where do you see brand blur?

Sometimes Relationship is All You Need

I just got home from an impromptu TweetUp. Sounds pretty geeky, huh? A TweetUp is a gathering of Twitter users - and at this particular gathering, few of the participants were geeky. Not that there's anything wrong with that. All, however, were kind and generous people whom, for their own reasons, were seeking more (or perhaps a different) connection than what is possible in random 140 character posts.

I'm sure there are people who'd ask me why in the world I'd spend my time going to these things. "What's the business purpose?" "What kind of return do you get out of the time?" "Are any of those people prospects?" You may have your own version of these questions. For me it all comes down to the same simple concept: relationship. That's the purpose. That's what I get. Is it intangible? Yes. And that's okay.

With networking, social media in particular and Twitter even more finely, I see people who have a certain spark. People with ideas, important thoughts, common and uncommon experiences. People I can learn from. Be inspired by. People I can give to. People whose energy is just nice to be in.

We've become a measurement obsessed culture. "Measure what matters." "You can't manage what you can't measure." We want our measurements in numbers, too. Typically we pick measures that we want to go up. As if bigger and more are the only things that matter. We seem to believe that quantity is the only way to measure success. And sometimes we measure activities as if the measures in themselves indicate results. We spend vast amounts of time and money measuring education with standardized tests. We draw seemingly arbitrary numerical lines in the sand to measure the worth of an individual's productivity.

But what about quality? What about checking in with our guts and how we feel about things? What about the intangible measures of satisfaction, happiness, and love? Sure those are pretty hard to measure, if truly possible at all. That might be scary for some. I feel sad for those who can't understand the intangible.

Maybe we all need to take a step back and detach from the numbers from time to time. Maybe we need to be okay that someday all the dots will connect and there will be results from what we've done.

I submit that the hard facts of logic and the softer side of emotions both belong in business. And being able to simply say, "I enjoyed creating and cultivating relationships today," is measurement enough for an afternoon in a cafe.

Not All Old Guys are Praying

Without fail, every time I go to Panera before 11:00 am, there is a group of 60, 70, or 80-something men sitting around a table chatting about life. Judging by their Bibles, prayer and bits and pieces of conversation I overhear, they are nearly always "Christian men's groups." After experiencing a few such groups, I've been conditioned to tune them out. Don't get me wrong. It's nice. And I admire their faith. After a few such encounters, I've learned what I can about that slice of the human experience and I'm ready to move on. In other words, it's just not that interesting of an eavesdropping* experience anymore.

This morning men's group has turned my world upside down. The group of 60-something men du jour are apparently bound by sarcasm, cynicism, iPhones and hearty laughter.

I've heard them discuss the iPhone news from yesterday's WWDC (Apple's worldwide developers conference). "Yeah...video...faster...happened to me the last time...I got mine just before they released the 3G."

Then there was the outburst, "Miley Cyrus!" followed up by the story of one of the men toying with his granddaughter. He said she listens to "rap crap" that he can't stand and that his granddaughter gives him a hard time about being so old. One day he was talking with her on the phone and said, "tell you what, you put on the most awful, obscure rap song you can think of and I'll tell you what it is." So, when she started the song, he put his Shazam loaded iPhone up to the receiver, got the result and announced it to the amazement of his granddaughter who was apparently none the wiser to his scam.

One said to another, "yeah, I looked at your house from above." The other made a rude gesture and said, "did you see this?" Laughter.

Then they moved on to comparing Lexus models. And now they are discussing sewer systems. My interest is waning.

I wonder if they have any idea they're crushing not only the paradigm that "old people are not technologically proficient" but also my assumption that every group of men in a Panera is holding a prayer group meeting. I love a good challenge.

*By the way, I don't intentionally eavesdrop. I have not yet learned to tune out unique sensory input. Put another way, I have attention issues.

A New Chapter

Economic conditions are the worst they've been in my adult life. So, I quit my well-paying job at a good firm. Why? I listened to myself instead of the collective fear in the news and on the lips of well-meaning people.

I can't explain it in a way that will make sense to everyone. If you feel it, you know what I'm talking about. This is the right move for me. One explanation might be that I've reached the point where it is harder on my ego to work in a business that I once owned than it is to leave. But it really is far more complicated than that. My decision involves personal challenge and need for a different kind of growth in my career and life.

You might say I'm reinventing myself. Or maybe it's that I'm fine-tuning. I've been introspective enough to understand (some of) my strengths. I'm an empathetic listener. I have a certain sense of intuitive insight. I'm resourceful. I have a great thirst for knowledge and a love of learning. I have a habit of seeing connections – some obvious, some not so obvious – that lead to ideas. I'm completely fascinated by symbolism, language, human behavior, culture and creativity.

I use those characteristics to help people and the organizations they lead hone in on who they are and what they stand for. I help them grasp their uniqueness and harness it in visuals, words and actions that connect them with the right people. I help clarify issues, values and identity. In the parlance of business, I offer strategic brand development.

For those who need to know, yes, there's something tangible at the end of the process. What that is depends on what is needed. It could be a strategic plan. Or a tactical plan. Or a logo. Or website, brochure, or sales kit. Or all of the above. What matters to me is that an organization - whether an individual or microbusiness, employer of dozens or massive corporate concern, for-profit or not-for-profit - find the groove that enables them to ethically and honestly move toward their goals and serve their world and the people whose lives they touch.

This past Friday was my last day as an employee at Element Three. The three and half year transition was a rewarding one. I met great people and learned even more about brand, marketing, myself and business. I'll miss the work. I'll miss my office space. Mostly I'll miss the people. They've become family. I know the business is in very good hands. And I'm excited to see what the team at Element Three will do in the months and years to come. They're good people and the vision is strong. I'll continue to serve Element Three as needed. We'll collaborate on projects. They'll help me on my projects.

Now I turn the page to a new chapter in my life. I'm still writing this book and like any good author, I'm open to new material. If you'd like to chat over a cup of tea (or coffee if that's your thing) give me a call, shoot me an email, or DM me on Twitter. I'd like to hear what you have to say.

Thanks for indulging me in my story.

(For a nice discussion on the use of "hone in" vs. "home in," see the Business Writing Blog.)

A Little Decency, Please!

Have you heard about the "Families for ED Advertising Decency Act?" It's a bi-partisan bill introduced on April 29 in the House of Representatives. The proposed bill would "prohibit as indecent the broadcasting of any advertisement for a medication for the treatment of erectile dysfunction, and for other purposes." Yeah, that's broad language and honestly I haven't read the whole thing. I believe the bill proposes the advertising be allowed only after 10pm and before 6am. It seems it is really about the explicit language. Regardless, the general concept has my attention.

I'm typically a free speech, turn-the-channel, anti-censorship kind of gal. As a parent, however, I'd love to see something done about these ads that repeatedly talk about seeing a doctor if you have an erection that lasts longer than 4 hours or to talk to your doctor to see if you're healthy enough for sex. Come on people! It's Sunday afternoon and my kids are watching sports with their Dad! Do they really have to see and hear this stuff? Could we have some subtlety please?

It isn't just the ED drug adverts. Some of the movie and television show previews themselves are over the top in sex, violence and just plain scary stuff. I’d like our kids to be able to watch a football game without being bombarded by disturbing previews. (It's bad enough that fast food restaurants and nutritionally deficient sugar bombs are being pushed.) Really. I have found myself disappointed in what squeaks by in the prime hours. Heck, we can barely watch television as a family because there isn’t programming we adults like that is appropriate for our children. And I’m not just talking HBO (which I love). I won't let them watch The Office, Family Guy, or My Name is Earl, which are family hour programs, because of the overt sexual references. At 11 and 9, my kids are just too young to understand the humor, to separate loving partnerships from elicit sex.

Sound like a prude, don't I. I'm really not. I don't shelter my kids to the point that they don't know about terrorist attacks and wars and politics. In fact, we talk about those things at their level so they can have some sense of understanding and security. Honestly, I just want my kids to have as much opportunity as possible to retain some innocence at an age when it is appropriate. I suppose the answer is to get rid of the television. I just don't want to go to that extreme just because the adults doing the advertising and programming decision-making can't control themselves.

Maybe this particular bill isn't the answer. Maybe there is a non-lawmaking way this can be resolved. Maybe big pharma will do the right thing. Maybe.

By the way, in the interest of equal time, I'm not all that crazy about feminine product ads that leave little to the imagination either.

My Mother's Gift

"Melancholy. Remembering. It was 11 years ago this very night. I still miss her. Love you, Mom."

That's what I just posted as my Facebook status. I'm thinking, "what an odd thing to share with 150 people, some of whom have little close contact with me." Yet, that's how I feel. It's who I am. And the part of me that used to be afraid for people to know who I really am is overtaking the fearful part. Just a little bit. Every day.

I was standing at the stove making dinner – a pot of goulash, one of Mom's specialties. I was feeling grateful that this dish that is allowed in the restrictive new diet I am living with. That led me to contemplate the odd concept that this insulin resistance is part curse, part gift from my mother.

Mother.

That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt the ghosts of the emotions I felt 11 years ago tonight. I was making dinner that Monday evening when I picked up the ringing phone to my sister's sobs. She said, "Nila. It's Maria. Mom's down. They've taken her to the hospital. I'm on my way there." I just said, "I'll be there as soon as possible." I hung up the phone and fell to my knees wailing. I knew the moment had come. The moment I dreaded. I'd lost my mother.

Steve and I packed up our infant son and drove the 45 minutes northeast to St. John's Hospital in Anderson, Indiana. I remember walking through the sterile emergency waiting room, through the powered doors, making a right into one of the trauma rooms. The room seemed impossibly enormous. I only remember the walls, my father leaning against one, my sister against another. And, as if on an alter, I saw my mother on the bed, lifeless and cool. I smiled, put my hand on her and kissed her cheek. In that moment I felt her all around me, but not in that body. I was in her grace. And a rush of strength entered me.

The following week was a whirlwind. We made funeral arrangments, greeted many faces. And Mom was cremated on my father's birthday, that Saturday, May 2nd. I've always felt a certain sadness for my father that this act had to be on that day. They'd been married just shy of 50 years.

I've comtemplated that day a lot lately. Recently I was diagnosed with insulin resistance, a precursor to diabetes, the disease that ultimately took my mother's life far too soon. I remember my mother's unspoken desire to have done more in her life, regrets over decisions she had made. As I consider similar thoughts in my own life, I am given the choice to follow the same path or to learn from my mother's journey, to fight for my health and my life and to make decisions that may be unpopular and painful for others, yet ultimately true to my own soul and better for all.

To my father, my brother and my sisters, my husband and my children: I love you dearly even though I might not say it enough.