Beg to Differ

Canadian Telco Telus launches a new sub-brand; but this net is far from clear

Beg to Differ loves brands. They’re fun. But we love something more than brands: we love clarity. And there are times when companies need to resist the urge to over-brand their products and services in the interest of keeping life simple for their customers.  This is one of those times. Behold the world’s latest unnecessary brand: Optik

A moment of silence for clarity lost

Let me declare a minor conflict of interest here. I’m still mad at Telus for killing my cellphone provider ClearNet in 2000.  ClearNet was one of the planet’s most elegant and simple brands, nurse which revolutionized consumer technology advertising in Canada.

The much larger Telus bought Clearnet, search but then reanimated parts of the corpse to “reskin” itself with the ClearNet colour scheme, physician design frame, and menagerie of cuddly animal mascots. But what really got me is that they did it without the clarity and simplicity that ClearNet was famous for in the first place – and they capped it all with a boring, big-telco name.

Basically, they took the promise of a simple, nimble brand, and tried to hide a lumbering behemoth behind it.

Anyway, why am I complaining about the new “Optik” brand – which actually isn’t a terrible name or hook to build a brand around?

Where to begin?

The “Optik” brand covers TV services delivered through Telus’s the newly installed fiber-optic network in Western Canada, and the Internet services you can get along with them – but only if you get the TV service first. The screen shot above is the landing page for the Internet services. Notice how awkwardly the Optik High Speed fits with the  “large / medium / small” logic of the other three offerings.

Is that helping you make a choice as a consumer? Quite the opposite.

Here’s what Joe Natale, the Telus Chief Commercial Officer, says about Optik in today’s Vancouver Sun:

It was time to “really create a brand around both the revolutionary TV capability and the network capability that is now reaching more Western Canadians than ever before. Now that we’re reaching 90 per cent of homes in the top 48 cities in B.C. and Alberta we’ve got some loud statements to make.”

Natale goes on in the same article:

The name Optik reflects the company’s investment in the fibre optic network as well as speaking to clarity. The Telus brand will still be front and centre, and cute animals will still be part of the pitch. But advertisements will also include an unusual animal – a human named Danny, the Telus technician who comes into your living room to show you what Telus TV can do.

Excited? You can meet Danny here (but sorry: I for one don’t want this smarmy kid in my living room).

The problem: it’s complicated.

Or to put it another way: it’s complicatING an already confusing picture – the changing world of consumer telecommunications technology. Consumers are already juggling too many specs and too much techno-jargon in their heads without trying to figure out the difference between “Telus” and “Optik”

Which is why Bell Canada has dropped “Sympatico” and “ExpressVU” brands in favour of just “Bell” with descriptive product names. And Rogers has dropped the redundant “At Home” part of their consumer branding.

What do you think?

I could go on. I often do. But what do you think? Does the new “Optik” brand help you make a buying decision? Or are you like me: pining for the simpler days of bright green frogs and a single, clear, brand? When does branding go too far?

Thoughts on the real point of juries, and branding.

After an epiphany in court, approved Beg to Differ asks: are you ready for the judgement of your peers?

The day I dreaded

Yesterday, and I did something I’d been dreading for months. Ever since that official looking letter arrived, summoning me to possibly serve on a jury for the first time in my life, I’d been stewing: “How long will the trial last?” “What kind of awful crime will I have to decide on?” and, “How the heck can I get out of this?”

Friends assured me I could just tell the judge I’m a sole proprietor, with three kids and a wife on maternity leave – all of which are true – and I’d probably get excused for “financial hardship”. Other friends suggested wearing a Princess Leia wig or singing show tunes in court, but the financial hardship angle sounded a bit less extreme.

So I showed up at the jury room yesterday with my plan.

Along with 150 other people…

I’d always wondered about the efficiency and wisdom of the jury trial system. The idea of taking a dozen people out of their jobs for days, weeks, or even months, seems counter-productive. Why 12? Why not 10, or 7, or even 3? Many places in the US and elsewhere use only 6 jurors, though Scotland proudly uses 15 for criminal trials. Whatever the number, with many thousands of juries sitting around the world (in 2007, California alone had 16,000!) that’s countless hours of time and billions and billions of dollars in lost productivity.

But yesterday, I realized the full scope of that “inefficiency”. For every 12 people who are chosen, many, many more are not, but still have to take time off work – sometimes days – and do a lot of sitting and waiting.

In my case, there were easily 150 people in the jury pool for yesterday’s case, and there were millionaires and busboys sitting side by side (I know because I met one of each). And yes, there was a lot of cynical eye-rolling, and many people spent their time rehearsing excuses or reading, or playing on their cell phones. It all seemed like such a colossal waste of time. Add to that the vestigial Canadian pomp of lawyers in robes and “long live the Queen,” and it’s a wonder we didn’t all pull a Larry David to get out of this.

But then we were called into the courtroom

Suddenly, we 150 became very quiet, very serious, and a whole lot less cynical.

Because there in the room was a real person. In trouble. And though we knew the person was accused of serious crimes – possibly awful ones – at that point we had no idea what the crimes were, much less whether or not the person was actually guilty. Of anything.

And I think we all realized that if, heaven forbid,  we were ever in that person’s shoes, we would want a careful, thoughtful, and yes,  inefficient process just like this one.

But then my neighbour leaned over and whispered: “You know? This is the world’s largest crime prevention program.” He was joking – kind of.  But in a way, he was also totally right. I’d been looking at trials, juries, and justice the wrong way around.

Jury trials aren’t for the accused; they’re for the community

The point of the jury trial process is about ownership. That is, increasing the visibility, dialogue, and ensuring the meaningful participation of the people who actually own the process in a democracy: normal community members like me, the millionaire, and the busboy.

It’s like voting, election campaigns, and community activism – none of which make any sense from a cold logical efficiency standpoint.  All of these things are important demonstrations of our stake in the democracy game.

And yes, they will also make us think more seriously about crime and punishment, because now those things have a real human face.

But it also got me thinking about business, and brands

Maybe it’s a stretch, but there are all kinds of things businesses do that seem not to make sense. And frankly, many of them just don’t – I write about those all the time.

But some of them make sense in a way that’s hard to quantify on a spreadsheet, but are nonetheless important rituals, gestures, and ways to reach out and let more people connect with the human meaning of what we do.

Charity work, community support, customer dialogue in many forms, and support for employee work / life balance, are just a few of examples of activities that don’t fit neatly on to balance sheets.

I remember a discussion with a professional “community relations” person who once asked me: “why should I worry about what the community thinks of us? What have they done for us lately?”

Um. They ARE you. And they own your brand.

The question is, what are you doing to show them just how important and integral to your success they are?

Because in the end, that’s how you’ll be judged. Not by whether or not you showed up.

YouTube Twelve Angry Men trailer:

Beg to Differ talks sense to the “big suits” at Google

You’d think that Google would have online branding figured out. After all, this they just earned $6.77  billion revenue in the first quarter of 2010 – the vast majority from advertising. So they couldn’t possibly make more money with a simple, human-friendly branding change… We Beg to Differ.

Once in a lifetime.

In my office mailbox today, I got a letter from Google addressed to ADSENSE PUBLISHER. Well, I’m the guy who handles the online advertising – and pretty much everything else at Brandvelope – and over the years I’ve placed pay-per-click ads with Google, and I have other people’s Google ads running on my sites.

So I opened the letter, and found a little gift from Google (at right) with a letter that read:

Dear AdSense Publisher,
We’d like to thank you for your participation in the Google AdSense program. To express our gratitude, we’d like to promote your website with Google AdWords – free.

The Brandvelope Chief Financial Officer in me thought: “Cool! 100 free bucks from Google for more Google ads!” The Chief Marketing Officer in me started thinking about what new Google ad campaigns I could run, while the Senior Consultant in me silently congratulated Google for developing a virtually cost-free promotion that made me feel valued, reminded me to try the product again, and gave me an incentive to do so.

Take me to the river.

But when I rushed to my computer, read the instructions, and typed in the URL www.google.ca/ads/adwords I found myself… confused and lost. I couldn’t see any place to enter the code. I logged in to my account and clicked around a bit, but without any luck. So I gave up and filed it under “figure this out later”.

An hour later I looked again at the letter lying on my desk again and realized the problem: I was supposed to go to www.google.ca/ads/adsense.

I’d gotten AdSense and AdWords confused in my little pea brain. Silly me.

What was the place? What was the name?

For those of you who aren’t familiar with these two multi-billion dollar offerings, one is for Web site owners who want to advertise on other people’s sites, while the other one is for Web site owners who want to include other people’s ads on their sites. Now if I could just remember which was which…

Hey it’s Google, so I Googled “what’s the difference between google adsense and adwords” and got this link:

I don’t know about you and your pea brain, but me and mine still can’t keep this straight. Part of this is just that the terms “Words” and “Sense” don’t help me understand or remember the difference as another blogger has pointed out. Also, the AdWords program is starting to make more money from image-based ads than “Word” ads.

But the biggest problem is this: the two names are forcing me to think about a distinction that’s important to Google, but it’s not important to me. In my brain, a Google ad is a Google ad is a Google ad, no matter where it appears or who’s getting paid for it.

Having one product name for ad creators and a different one for hosts is like calling it “Heinz Ketchup” to consumers but insisting that grocery stores purchase it as Heinz K-Sense. It’s all ketchup!

Found a job.

So Google, here’s some free consulting advice that will help you make billions of additional dollars:

There is only one Google ad product, and it’s called a Google Ad.

That’s it. You don’t need two names. You don’t need two web sites. I don’t need two separate accounts. And most importantly you don’t need to impose your corporate logic on me. I don’t care.

You just need to ask me one simple question: “Do you want to create a Google Ad, or host Google Ads?”

Done. Now get out of my way while I make more magic money for you.

Nothing is better than that… or is it?

The image above, and the headings for this post were taken from the Talking Heads 1984 masterpiece Stop Making Sense. Enjoy this clip  from the film.

Sorry Ray, cheapest branding isn’t about dreams.

Over the last few days, sildenafil the Big Differ met three people building on big dreams — an underground railroad, a new coffee shop, and a political campaign. All have big obstacles to overcome, but they all have determination, skill, and a decent shot at success. Here are five lessons they should totally ignore from the 1989 film Field of Dreams.

The problem with “Dreams”

For those sleeping in a cornfield through the 80’s, you can read a summary here, but basically, Field of Dreams is a fantasy about an Iowa corn farmer named Ray (Kevin Costner) who hears voices that inspire him to build a baseball park in his corn field, which attracts a team of ghostly baseball players, and it all ends in a magical success.  Hooray.

I actually liked the film a lot, and I have a soft spot for baseball, magic realism, and Kevin Costner films (or at least ones that don’t involve British accents or water).

But it’s a bad guidebook for entrepreneurs  trying to build a solid brand.

Bad lesson 1: the “field” isn’t important.

In the beginning, Ray’s a startup corn farmer – which is a sensible thing to be in Iowa. I’ve got relatives there, and it’s easily the highest-fructose place on the planet. Corn is his “field” of entrepreneurship. Ray also has a literal “field” – all those acres of rich topsoil, which, as a conscientious farmer, he should be tending, planting, and harvesting.

But he ignores both. Rather than figure out the techniques and habits that will make him successful in the corn field, Ray suddenly decides one day to get into the field of baseball instead. So he plows under his corn, builds a ball diamond, and then sits back and waits for magical success. In Iowa. The middle of Iowa.

The true lesson: don’t treat your field like dirt or it will do the same to you.

Bad lesson 2: ignore the rules of the field.

Every day, thousands of entrepreneurs worldwide do the same thing Ray did – they take a big risk and leave their established “fields” and strike out in a totally new direction. This is brave and inspiring. And yes, some happy few even succeed!

But you can’t just show up in a new industry and expect a standing ovation right away. Ray  tried to build his new field using corn field rules: he planted a baseball diamond in the spring and sat around waiting for a pennant harvest in the fall. You need to understand how to succeed and which rules need to be broken to stand out intelligently (that is, to not look stupid).

The truth: learn, respect, and adapt to the rules of whatever field you’re in.

Bad lesson 3: don’t tell anybody what you’re up to.

After Ray builds his diamond, he doesn’t bother to communicate – to market or position his product to anyone. He doesn’t even name his team or tell people about the single game that is supposed to miraculously save his farm.

In fact, he takes a pretty standoffish and arrogant approach to his target audience. Where is the scene where he buys a newspaper ad or where we see him sitting up at 3:00 a.m. sending out one more letter to another prospective fan?

The truth: communication is job one for all startups

Bad lesson 4: dreams are everything.

Sorry kids. Don’t mean to squash your Jiminy Cricket here, but  dreams are actually a dime a dozen – we have more than that every night. And most of them are wisely forgotten, ignored, or just recognized as really really dumb (like building a baseball diamond in an Iowa cornfield).

The truth: It’s hard work, commitment, and integrity (not dreams) that make success in any field.

Bad lesson 5: if you build it, they will come.

I can’t count the times I’ve heard this line repeated by startups or government clients. And it’s a seductive thought: if only we can build this perfect widget, the whole planet will see how amazing it is and come rushing to our door throwing money at us.

But it never works that way. It only seems to work that way, if you don’t know any better. The fact is, dreams are great. And stubbornly pursuing a dream is admirable. And everybody loves to believe in magic. But sadly, the “Field of Dreams” approach is a recipe for failure and disappointment.

Better to either a) stick to the corn, or b) if you must switch to baseball, sell your corn field and build your baseball diamond in a place, in a way, and with a team that give you a fighting chance. If your business plan includes ghosts, magic, and / or impossible amounts of luck to succeed, it’s not a plan. It’s not even a dream. It’s just a weird rustling noise in the corn.

The truth: If you build it, that’s when the real work begins