And this year’s Bad Taste Award goes to:
Xiamen Jinzhi, maker of Helen Keller Sunglasses

Chinese company Xiamen Jinzhi has branded its new line of sunglasses “Helen Keller.” This is no case of mistaken identity. From the Wall Street Journal: “Chen Wenjing, a spokesperson for the company behind the sunglasses, said that they were aware Helen Keller was blind, but what they valued was her philanthropist spirit which spread optimism around the world.”

I doubt that. For one thing, their ads convey no such message. Not even close. For another, the notion that the brand was intended to honor Ms. Keller resoundingly flunks the Oh Come On Test. For yet another, Xiamen Jinzhi might have done well to crack a history book. Helen Keller was not a spreader of optimism and philanthropy, but a prolific activist.

As a senseless teenager, I laughed at and repeated my share of now not-funny jokes, including some at the expense of Ms. Keller. I’m sorry. Happily, I am no longer a senseless teenager. It appears that the folks at Xiamen Jinzhi still have some growing up to do.

Please remind consumers who wonder what can be done to stop this sort of thing that it begins with not buying the product.

—Steve Cuno

Oddest Sales Pitch of My Career

Shoe-buyer stereotypes exist. I learned this for myself paying my way through college as a department store shoe salesman. I dealt with customers wearing moldy socks, trying on shoes for fun with no intention of buying (wasting this commission-based salesman’s time), refusing to buy shoes because of the marked size (“They fit and I like them, but they say ‘size 10’ inside”), deeming shoes “exactly what I want” before leaving to look elsewhere, and so on.

But my favorite encounter was with a customer who asked me to show her our ugliest shoes. It reigns as the oddest sales presentation I ever did:

–“How about these? They’re way ugly.” 
–“Here’s a pair of real dogs.” 
–“Take a look at these. The MPAA would rate them too disturbing to show to young children.” 

Sadly, I failed to produce shoes that were up to her standard of ugliness. Curiosity overcame me as she turned to leave. “I have to ask,” I said. “Why do you want ugly shoes?”

Leveling upon me a gaze that said duh, she replied, “I need them to go with the ugly dress I just bought.”

—Steve Cuno

For once, I stick up for name recognition.
Sort of.

Name recognition doesn’t ensure sales. My favorite example—which regular readers should be able to regurgitate unprompted—is: Everyone knows the class nerd’s name, but no one asks the class nerd on a date.

But then, no name recognition ensures no sales.

The solution? Make the kind of loud and consistent noise that establishes your name as a household word. But not just any noise. Make the kind of noise that links your name to relevant, substantive benefits, and to solid reasons for buying your product sooner instead of later.

—Steve Cuno

A Lesson In Sticking With What Works

I should preface this diatribe by noting that there really is such a thing as a good consultant. 

Really.

I even know a few.

Well, two.

The consultant I’m going to tell you about belonged the other, larger group. He had just convinced our client to hold a seminar. Except it would actually be a sales pitch masquerading as a seminar. They hoped CEOs of sizable companies would be dumb enough to attend and buy.

I told my client it was a bad idea. When I tried to explain why, the consultant interrupted. “Don’t tell me what you can’t do,” he bellowed, “Tell me what you can do. How good is the RESPONSE Agency, anyway?” My client nodded with enthusiasm. He liked rah-rah stuff. By comparison, substance and evidence are so ... so ... boring.

There was no wresting the floor from my client, so I changed the forum by returning a few days later with a projector. One slide at a time, I revealed the weaknesses of the seminar idea:

• It’s hard to get CEOs to seminars unless you feature superstars, more golf than talk, and an exotic location. But suppose you succeeded in getting them to attend. Once they realized they’d been had, they would leave, vow never to purchase from you, and urge their peers to follow suit.

• They wanted to hold the “seminar” in mid July. It was June. We hadn’t starting writing, much less printing and addressing. Typical seminar attendees need about twelve weeks of advance notice to clear their schedules. CEOs are busier than the average attendee.

• July is the poorest month of the year for seminar and conference attendance. Something about summer vacations and a national holiday. (July 4 is usually held in July.)

Three slides into my presentation, the consultant rocketed to his feet and began arguing. I told him to sit down and save his comments until I was finished. Surprisingly, he did. 

The presentation took about four minutes. I turned off the projector. After a moment, the client announced that the seminar idea was dead. The consultant said, “I wish I’d had you guys around to help with my last company.” I knew something about that company. He was its CEO. It went belly-up under his leadership. Which launched his consulting career.

The client asked me how I “knew so much.” I shamelessly replied that:

1. Whenever possible, at the RESPONSE Agency we measure empirical results, which gives us a good handle on what does and doesn’t work.

2. I ask other direct marketers what has worked for them and, equally important, how they know. If they attribute their “knowledge” to a gut feeling, I take it with a grain of salt.

3. I read a lot, but judiciously. I prefer books and articles by people who earn their bread by the kind of selling that forces them to measure real results. Theorists who write about what they figger oughtta work are a dime a dozen, and overpriced at that.

I’m all for experimentation. But you’re always better off with a little knowledge.

—Steve Cuno

Bad research. Bad!

One day a major Utah corporation retained mystery shoppers to evaluate one of its most visibly promoted services, which they provided at the time in 10 different facilities. Unfavorable reports came back. Accordingly, the organization took the negative feedback to heart and made much-needed improvements.

Ha ha, just kidding. The 10 managers flew into a rage, so their boss canned the report. I know. I was in the rage-filled meeting, too concerned for my safety to raise a futile voice of dissent.

The moral? Only convenient research results are valid.

About That Service Satisfaction Survey
It’s Anything But

A nod of thanks to reader Sharon M in Northern California for suggesting this topic

If you have ever taken your new car to the dealer for service, chances are the service manager told you to watch for a “satisfaction survey” in your mail, adding, “If you can’t give us the highest possible rating, tell me right now so I can make it right.”

I dunno about you, but it creeps me out. If I have a complaint but do not raise it, I have my reasons. Maybe I’m in a hurry. Maybe my dissatisfaction falls under “Intangible, hard to explain.” (Like, “You just creeped me out.”) Maybe I’m not in the mood to be confrontational today. Maybe I would give the dealer an 8 or 9 from a possible 10, that is, not stellar but good enough and not worth discussing.

Creep-out aside, asking for a high rating invalidates the survey. If the research firm’s goal is to gather honest feedback — admittedly begging the question — the service manager’s plea usurps it. The goal becomes not to improve, but to create the appearance of no improvement needed. There are various behind-the-scenes reasons dealers might do this. Be assured that one of them is not to impress customers, nor to improve service.

—Steve Cuno