Bitter Twitter

In a week when NSW Premier Nathan Rees was colourfully described as "tweeting with the energy of a 12-year-old with Tourettes", we've had our own graphic experience of web 2.0.

Google infamously puts "You can make money without doing evil" at #6 on its list of "Ten Things We Know To Be True" that describe its philosophy. Nowadays, that statement is being questioned more and more as Google evolves, and I, for one, very much hope that they stick to the script. But it's odd – although perhaps not surprising given the nature of competition (think Darwin's "survival of the fittest") – that so many of mankind's inventions end up being turned against ourselves.

And so to this week's shenanigans...

When ex-employees turn bad and inject their Twitter updates with malice, lies and innuendo (allegedly) – or at the very least, a large dose of naiveté.

Attacks on one's reputation are never much fun, whether launched at an individual or an organisation. And they are even harder to bear when they have no basis in fact and simply satisfy the author's personal vendetta. And the final straw is often the convenient lapse of memory they suffer when they reminisce on their time as employees: the fact that leaving was agency was not their choice.

That said, in spite of their tirade, they are happy enough to include their time at they agency on their résumé – presumably, in the hope that the collective and well-earned reputations of thousands of agency employees around the world will help bolster their own by dint of association.

You can't have it both ways. You can't assume the accolades of association on the one hand, but then go and bite the hand that feeds you on the other.

As time goes by and the world becomes more connected and transparent, all of us will have to make an increasing number of choices about where we stand. I certainly don't have the answers when it comes to what those choices might mean, but I do have one piece of advice. Be honest.

The art of persuasion

Persuasion is a fine art.

I know this because, like many of us, I spend a large part of my day trying to persuade people. At work, I’m trying to persuade clients to stay true to a particular strategy, even when the going gets tough. At home, I’m hoping to persuade my sons that sliding down the slippery-dip is actually much more fun than hurling themselves off the top.

But the common mistake I often see people make is that they think the art of the persuasion relies solely upon how persuasive you can be. When in fact, it relies largely on how much listening you can do.

And I mean really listening.

With all your senses, skills, faculties, and anything else you can muster to help you understand what people are really telling you – and what they really want you to hear.

Earlier this week, I spent a couple of hours listening to a friend of mine. Now this is a guy I really respect, and I would love to have join the agency. While some of what he said may not have been music to my ears, I did all I could to absorb everything he communicated – physical, emotional, rational, the lot. And to be perfectly honest, I did everything I could to try not to persuade him to do anything. What was I going to say? – I didn't know what he was thinking or how he felt, let alone what he might want.

And I see it happen all too often when someone flies into the discussion straight off the bat, only to discover halfway through their monologue that they have delivered the perfect argument for what they've now realised is in fact a non-existent issue.

It even happened this week on a project we were pitching. While we aimed to persuade the client of our insights, our two competitors pitched their cost-effectiveness. We ultimately won the pitch because the client didn't want to hear about price (cost-effective or otherwise), they only wanted to hear about how we could solve their business problem. And what shaped our response for the pitch was not what we wanted to tell them on presentation day, but what they wanted us to hear when they first issued the brief.

It's also worthwhile making another slight digression to introduce the fable of the North Wind and the Sun.

According to Aesop's fable, the North Wind tried to prove his strength by blowing the traveller’s cloak from his back, however, this only led the traveller to pull his cloak tighter around him. On the other hand, the Sun shone so brightly that the traveller removed his cloak in the heat of his own accord. What the Sun proved was that persuasion is a far stronger ally than brute force when it comes to achieving your ends. Not only is it vital to spend your time listening for what someone really needs, but it's equally important that you allow them to make the decision for themselves.

When it came to winning the pitch I mentioned earlier, it was the client who made the final decision, not us. Our arguments might have been persuasive, but the winning factor was our ability to listen.

And the same is true for the friend whom I hope will become my colleague. Listening for what he needs will get me much further than trying to persuade him of what I want.

So next time you want to persuade someone, don’t do it. Or at least not until you've had a good listen to what they have to tell you first.

Now we are 10

I thought I'd give myself a break this week and recycle something that appeared in this week's B&T.

The editor was kind enough to run a profile on me and my career. I've included it below so you can read it at your leisure.

Not much more to add than that – hope you find it interesting. See you next week.

From the boat to the boardroom

At 5.30am, the river is pretty still.

The light is dull, the breeze is faint and all is quiet. All except for the whispered strokes of oars as they nudge the hull with a delicate force. Pools spin about the boat as the blades dip in and out of the inky water.

Rowing is a particularly English sport. And I found myself as a cox in my first few years at a particularly English university, Oxford. In the breaks between curiously-named terms – Michaelmas, Hilary and Trinity – boat crews would descend upon the rowing havens of Wallingford, Henley and Abingdon to train on the river in the early hours. Not much was ever said as people shuffled about the bank outside the boathouse and then gently floated the boat into the water. As cox, it was always up to me to break the eerie silence. After a couple of quick feathers at the bow to line up the boat, I'd call for oars to come square and away we'd go, off into the misty morning.

The warm-up was always my favourite time on the water. No pressure, just a few looseners, and certainly no traffic to make me too conscious of the stream. Now and then, I'd feel a cold splash on the hand, a brief reminder that I was floating on water not gliding on ice. Otherwise, this was a time simply to collect your thoughts.

As we would reach the final bend in the river before the first of several locks, we'd glide to a halt, blades tapping along the water's surface. A gentle turn as one side applied pressure over the other, and the boat would gracefully come to a rest in the shallows near the opposite bank. At which point we all knew that the next hour or so wasn't going to be quite so easy.

Up and down, we would row relentlessly at a range of speeds and tempos and styles. Quick hands, fast at the catch, driving through the water, clean finish. All the while, I would be calling the strokes, watching for technique, and steering a smooth course as the blades swum through the water.

One morning, I remember we were practising in short bursts. We had been rowing a little unevenly, and I found myself calling "Come on!" on more than one occasion. Nothing I said seemed to make much difference, and eventually we finished the session and headed back to the boathouse.

Once on the bank, one of the more experienced crew members let me have right between the eyes – and with both barrels. You can imagine the scene in your own mind: a bulky, 6"5' rower in the peak of fitness laying down the law to a slightly scrawny, 5"6" cox. The point he was trying to make – in between various expletives and vigorous gestures – was that calling "Come on!" in a boat ever again was (1) very likely to land me in the water, and (2) a complete waste of breath as it didn't mean anything or bear any relation to what was happening in the boat at the time.

Which brings me to my point.

Too many businesses rely on meaningless calls to action – "sell more", or "churn less" – without actually understanding what is happening in the business at the time. And more often than not, marketing is guilty of the same generic battle cry, without actually being able to tie the promise that the brand makes to the reality the business delivers.

Coffee that relies upon the cliches of the category – aroma, coffee beans and a good old mug.

Universities that trade off pictures of smiling students on campus as their stock in trade.

And, professional services companies who fill their brochures with thirtysomethings in suits, shaking hands, walking up stairs, and generally looking serious but savvy – and all with the benefit of a soft focus.

Not only are all these examples tired, boring and lazy, but they do nothing to promote what is exciting or unique about the brand in question. They simply gloss over the details, yell "Come on!" at anyone who will listen, and hope someone equally myopic will give them a go. No wonder people often remark on how marketing is "hardly rocket science" – at this level, it's not even basic arithmetic.

I was lucky, I learned my lesson, and I managed to stay dry through my brief career as a cox.

However, many marketers don't have the benefit of strong and experienced leaders to pull them aside when needed. As a result, many find themselves struggling to steer the ship – in fact, they're too busy fighting the battle to sink or swim.

Agencies get the clients they deserve

If it’s true that you do your best work for your best clients, then it’s also true that agencies generally get the clients they deserve.

As in life, like-minded people gradually build a pool of like-minded friends, and the same is true in any service-based industry like ours.

Businesses that value creativity gravitate towards agencies that put creativity at the heart of their own business. People who thrive on collaboration and partnership will work with agencies where close relationships are high on their agenda. And, clients with a firm focus on operational excellence will seek out an agency with a strong track record in heavy duty implementation.

So it came as a massive surprise to me this week when I discovered that one of our competitors was seemingly happy to undercut us by 75% to win a pitch.

Maybe it’s a sign that desperate times call for desperate measures, but I don’t envy any agency in a position where it’s building a portfolio of low-revenue-high-discount clients.

And, what sort of a client does an agency deserve when it offers 75% discounts to attract their business? 

To be perfectly honest, it scares me even to contemplate what that must be like – so I’ll leave it to your own imagination.

Every agency wants to win every pitch, but sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.