that explains Kissinger, but does that mean that Nixon started out as a nice guy?

Via Dan Ariely's tweet, this WSJ article by Jonah Lehrer is interesting for two related, hopeful but ultimately depressing reasons.

First, it suggests that Machiavelli had it wrong and that nice guys actually do finish first, in the sense that those who backstab and play politics tend to become isolated and ostracized fairly quickly in groups. Huzzah. Good news, right?

Second, those who do rise to power become less like themselves and tend to become less sensitive and responsive to others, becoming more and more sure of themselves and their own opinions.

Ack.

Most people who become boss-types don't want to become insensitive asses. (Even these people didn't intend to be bad.) But the research suggests that this trend is a function of becoming isolated from day-to-day activities, which any senior manager has to be in order to allow their team to work. Distance is not good, but it is necessary.

Which is a pretty damn delicate thing to be balanced, one that gets increasingly difficult the higher up you go.

Just be careful about putting those feet on the desk, and who you point them at.

"It's, um, what's his name, he bought, um, some product"

It's easy for us direct response folk to get fooled by cool. Yes, we want results, but we also want to do amazing ground-breaking work. We want awards. We want to be funny. We want millions of views on Youtube. And we view work, even direct response work, through that lens.

By that standard, the most effective and perhaps longest running TV spot in Canadian history doesn't measure up.

Yes. "It's Patrick, he bought life insurance!"

When it aired, it was pretty mainstream in terms of the clothes, the lighting, the announcer-y stuff, so it didn't feel like the museum piece it does to you now. But it sure as hell didn't break any ground culturally or artistically. (For some reason, I think it was adapted from Belgian creative.)

It just made so much money for Norwich Union insurance that they kept running it, year after year; the variations and tests ran well into this millennium. It was mind-bogglingly successful.

Why? I can only hypothesize a weird combination of things. It's built on classic direct response structure with straighforward technique; it's a tutorial in how to do a DRTV spot. But it's not the only spot in history that's been well-executed, so that can't explain everything.

I think it's the small hiccups that actually stuck with people, and made it memorable: the quickness and bizarre excitement with which the first guy says the immortal words, "It's Patrick, he bought life insurance." (Has anyone ever had a personal conversation that started out with insurance?) The way the Asian Canadian testimonial woman jumps in and cuts off her husband as he talks. The way the announcer's "2" in the "20" he scrawls on the whiteboard seems so rushed and sad. Maybe it's just me, but details like that remind me of the Sham-Wow spot; very strong selling with just enough personality and weirdness to be memorable.

The only thing I can compare to it is that Canadian Tire "creepy neighbour" campaign early this decade with the couple who explained products – mini-infomercials really. People seemed to hate those damn things, they got made fun of mercilessly by shows like This Hour Has 22 Minutes and Air Farce. Yet the flipside of that is that everyone knew them, everyone watched and knew the products. They look to CT for information, and went to CT when they wanted to buy. I have no data of course, but I've read CT folks saying that they worked insanely well.

CT ended the campaign because they wanted to be cooler, oh, I'm sorry, more "relevant"; I'm sure the CEO got sick of his/her family and neighbours making fun of them. So we've seen a couple of campaigns since they ended the "creepy neighbour", and maybe a couple of different agencies. Yeah, cool worked really well, didn't it?

I know the creative team who did the Norwich Union spots; amazing people all of whom I've worked with and for, and from whom I've learned virtually everything I know about direct marketing, direct mail, and DRTV. And yet none of them talks much about it, and I don't think any of them list it on their résumés, or have it in their books.

Which is sad, but I understand why. Cool, not effectiveness, still seems to rule.

something I wish weren't true really is

I've never been one to celebrate the alleged mysteries of the discipline of Advertising. Because, really, what we do is not difficult.

But that doesn't mean that just anyone can string a couple of words together and get hired as a copywriter. There is real precision in what we do, both in terms of the craft of executing an ad, and in terms of selling it. And most people who think that they could be writers or art designers, while they may be very good at messing around with colours, words or shapes, just don't get the precision that's required.

Which means that it's really hard to walk in off the street and nail a job at an ad agency.

I wish this weren't true. I didn't go to copywriting or design school; I did an English Lit degree, and fell into this marketing pit. Many of the people I like working with have other backgrounds and interests that make them not just interesting creatives, but interesting people. It's tough to get that breadth if you graduate from high school and go straight into a program at Humber or Seneca.

But that program is also how you know what ad agencies really need. It's where you learn how they think, how you need to think, and you get a sense of how to work with a brief, and present your work. And these days, there are so many promising newcomers who have taken college ad programs that, no matter how much raw talent you have, it's virtually impossible to come into an agency cold – without college training – and be as good as those who have.

That's not to say that, if you don't have college ad training, it's a waste of time to approach a CD and have her or him look at your book. It isn't. But I've learned that you can't expect that CD to hire you, or say much of anything beyond get yourself into a college program.

An advertising program isn't technically a prerequisite to getting a job. But it may as well be.

great examples of bad management

Managing people is hard.

Hands-off management doesn't work. Neither does hands-on management. So what the hell do you do with your hands?

Somehow you have to find a balance between letting people on your team do what they want to do, and you telling them what to do. And that balance must be difficult to find, because a lot of managers suck at finding it.

I know you've worked for bad managers; we all have. When I was a junior I had one manager who may as well have had his office on the far side of Pluto, he was so remote. Except for a few long-time cronies, he had no relationships with anyone, and little communication. A few brusque words were all anyone got before he scurried off for a smoke break. He seemed to be nothing more than the façade of a manager. (Hmm, remind you of any recent presidents?)

But he was in many ways better than another boss (not my direct report) who made his art directors redo layouts mercilessly, changing his mind on whims, and plenty free with his sarcasm. Now, you could *almost* justify his cruelty if he'd been creating fantastic work, but let's just say his preferred style was pretty, um, traditional.

So, when I came to manage people, I at least knew what I didn't want to do.

You have to find a combination of their freedom and your involvement. But even that can be tricky. I know of one agency leader who would let her people "run" with projects, only to "take a peek" hours before going to client (or even, sometimes after) and get very critical of the work, and the brief, and the process, and the people. A more punishing "freedom" I can't imagine.

My preference is to be involved in the beginning. Instead of imposing my own ideas, I try to make sure the team's ideas are as good as they can be; that they play out to their own internal logic, and explore as much territory as possible. (Would you trust a creative director who had to have all the ideas? Um, no.) Then back off, and let them fight their own battles; if they need help, they'll ask for it. That's how trust is built across the entire team; that's how you get to the point where maybe you as a manager don't have to be so involved any more. Because you've demonstrated to your team that you're comfortable with them making decisions, and them having real responsibility. And you've seen how your team thinks, and are confident about their process. That doesn't mean they won't fail. But more often than not, they'll succeed.

Now, I'm definitely not as consistent about this as I might make it sound. I'm sorry that sometimes my inner control freak emerges. But it's the way I want to work, the way we all should.

"Beware of thinkers whose minds function only when they are fueled by a quotation."*

"The greatest glory is won from the greatest dangers."

Now, this is just ancient Athenian for "When the going gets tough, the tough get going." But I think Pericles said it better than Knute Rockne (or whomever deserves attribution for that nugget), and as it turns out I'm reading "Lords of the Sea", John Hale's history of the Athenian navy and its role in Athenian democracy. Pericles led Athens through its golden age and fought off Sparta for the first years of the Peloponnesian War. His predecessor Themistocles (pictured) created the Athenian navy, won the battle of Salamis and helped defeat one of the largest empires in history.

Based on their noble examples, when the concept that was oh so close to getting approved gets killed, as it did today, I know there's only one thing to do – come back with a better concept. And win one for the Gipper. 

Maybe after a big glass of wine I'll have recollected other clichés which will inspire me in the week ahead.

*A quotation from Romanian writer Emil Cioran.

it's runnier than you like it

I got nuthin' tonight. I think you should enjoy some cheese instead. Just don't ask for Tilsit. Or Red Windsor. Or Stilton. Or Emmental. Or Port Salut. Or Camembert...

welcome to copywriting – may I see your passport, please?

The first time I wrote an ad reminds me of the first time I went to Japan.

Let me explain.

After an 8-month stint in Eaton's photography sample room (which was better than being laid off from my previous proofreading gig), I didn't have much with me when I arrived at my cubicle into the writers' area. There was a Mac SE and a phone on the desk, and some spent pens and paperclips in the drawers, and some push pins in the orange fabric walls.

At some point that first morning, I think, I got a docket – literally a large manila-type envelope which contained everything about the job from start to finish. At each stage of the work the job docket went around the floor from department to department: creative, proofreading, typesetting, assembly, media.

Inside was the "brief," which was more of an order form. There was space for the buyer or assistant buyer to list all the features and benefits of the product, as well as info about the size of the ad and what papers it was running in. There was nothing about demographics or psychographics, or a selling idea, or strategy. It was, after all, retail.

I remember pulling out all this info (I wish I could remember what product it was actually for, but no such luck) and mulling it for a while, then turning to the screen with an open writing template and placing my fingers over the keyboard and...

Being completely and utterly terrified at how baffled I was. I had no idea what to do next. Sure, I'd proofread hundreds of these copydecks, and I'd messed around with some spec ads in order to get the job, but this was different. I actually had to write the copy first. I had to fill up that big blank space with words, and Lord knows, maybe even an idea, and I didn't have a clue how to start.

The only thing I can compare it to was landing at Narita airport for the first time and realizing that not only could I not understand what people were saying (I didn't expect the Japanese to be talking English) but that none of the signs were in familiar letters, so I couldn't decipher anything around me. It's overwhelming to have that kind of disconnection from your surroundings. I couldn't get any bearings. I literally didn't know which direction my next step should be.

In Japan, I very quickly got good at finding any signs written in Latin characters, to give me some sort of basis for guessing what was going on and where I needed to go. And if I still needed help, I could ask questions in my mangled 10-word Japanese vocabulary and usually get an answer I could understand – even if it was only pointing.

In my cubicle, trying to write that first ad, I took a deep breath and decided that the first thing I wrote didn't have to be perfect. I could write anything and if I didn't like it, I could just hit "delete."

It might not seem like a big thing, but that realization was pretty powerful. I discovered that I didn't have to have the concept "solved" before I started working. That my work started when I started to play.

And it's been my first principle ever since, even as I've moved to paper as my first step, instead of electrons. No matter how little inspiration I have, no matter how little I understand about where an ad should go, getting anything down on paper is the essential first step in understanding where I can go.

when putting tape where your walls *would* be just isn't enough

I really like the 37 signals folks. They're smart, practical and entrepreneurial, and they passionately believe in both utility and good design.

But as much as I want to climb on board with this interview with co-founder Jason Fried, and as much as the situation he describes is recognizable, I can't help but think that his solution doesn't apply quite as broadly as he seems to think:

What happens is, is that you show up at work and you sit down and you don’t just immediately begin working, like you have to roll into work. You have to sort of get into a zone, just like you don’t just go to sleep, like you lay down and you go to sleep. You go to work too. But then you know, 45 minutes in, there’s a meeting. And so, now you don’t have a work day anymore, you have like this work moment that was only 45 minutes. And it’s not really 45 minutes, it’s more like 20 minutes, because it takes some time to get into it and then you’ve got to get out of it and you’ve got to go to a meeting.

Then when the meeting’s over, you’re probably pissed off anyway because it was a waste of time and then the meeting’s over and you don’t just go right back to work again, you got to kind of slowly get back into work. And then there’s a conference call, and then someone calls your name, “Hey, come a check this out. Come over here.” And like before you know it, it’s 4:00 and you’ve got nothing done today. And this is what’s happening all over corporate America right now.

They believe that passive communciation (via for example Campfire) allows users to opt in to interruption when they're ready to be interrupted. And since their philosophy is that there are no real emergencies in business, waiting a couple of hours for an answer is okay. And I can buy that...

Except at an ad agency.

Because deadlines are tight and the brief (which in itself never gets as much attention as it deserves) is late and client meetings come way too fast and if you have to wait all afternoon for that brief or image or whatever to come in you're going to be pulling an all-nighter to get the job done for tomorrow morning and there's never enough time to really polish what you're doing anyway.

That's an average day.

If you wait respectfully to get what you need it's not going to get done, meaning a pissed-off client, meaning you're out of a job. You have to speak up, remind, be noisy – in other words, interrupt. There isn't a creative I know who's any good who doesn't think that the work they're doing at this moment is more important than everyone else's work. Even in a very collaborative shop like ours, you've got to take ownership of your work like this, and push for the resources and timing you want.

I just can't see his vision working at an agency, or in any industry where people don't work relatively independently most of their days. (37 signals also has many employees that work remotely full time.)

Look, I end up doing a lot of my work after five, either in the office or at home, and I'm well aware that I'm not the only one; I also have an anarchist streak that likes their "don't manage me" attitude. I wish Fried's philosophy would work across the board. But as many of the commenters on the video say, like it or not there are just some real essentials that come out of human contact. (Scroll down to John Nolt's comment about a third the way down the page for a good perspective.)

Besides, my reluctance to look or act like Les Nessman outweighs any danger of improving my efficiency.

when irrationality is reasonable

Dan Ariely is a behavioural economist who has written a couple of really interesting books: Predictably Irrational, and The Upside of Irrationality. In the latter, he includes a chapter about the powerful role that emotion plays in our choice to help others. It won't come as a surprise to anyone who works in the fundraising sector, but it's really enlightening nonetheless.

I've just finished his first book, Predictably Irrational, and one of the many things that interest me about it is his extended investigation of trust and honesty, both individually and socially, through an imaginative series of quick and simple experiments.

One of the things he finds is that there is a clear distinction between the things we do for personal, non-monetary reasons, and what we do for money. In example after example, he and his collaborators show how seemingly irrational we are when thinking about value; for instance, lawyers who refuse to reduce their rate for poor clients, but who instead accept a request to work for free. Bringing one kind of value into a "transaction" made up of the other value, such as offering to give your neighbour three bucks to helping you move a couch, or offering your mother-in-law fifty bucks for a great Thanksgiving dinner, breaks all kinds of social norms, and is likely to get you permanently uninvited or punched in the mouth.

(Now, this could kick off an entertaining discussion of why money seems to inherently hold a sense of obligation, and why it easier for people to give their services away instead of devaluing them. But that's for another post.)

Ariely highlights the discrepancy between these two sets of values when it comes to marketing, and the implication for social media is enormous:

If you're a company, you can't have it both ways. You can't treat your customers like family one moment and then treat them impersonally -- or, even worse, as a nuisance or a competitor -- a moment later when it becomes more convenient or profitable.

Being "friends" with your customers on Facebook is really difficult when you're bombarding them with cross-selling messages all the time, and jumping on them when they're two days late in making a payment. You have to make the decision to have one kind of relationship with consumers, and stick to it. Looking at it like this, it just wouldn't make sense for a bank to try to build consumer relationships like this. (But I'd love to see someone try it.)

Friends offer each other things of real value without ever bringing money into the relationship. Friends listen to each other, and react to what the other says. And those are simply not things that your average MBA or CEO learns how to do.

I wouldn't have thought that necrophilia would increase response, but...

Just saw a :120 DRTV spot for the "FixitPro", a product that hides scratches on cars.

It was hosted by Billy Mays.

Who has been dead for over a year.

I don't know what worries me more.

That the folks who run that agency don't seem to give a shit, and are too cheap to reshoot.

Or that his death actually hasn't affected response rates negatively.

I'm betting on the latter, since the above image is featured prominently on the site.

Sigh.