Beg to Differ wants to share your Spotlight Pitches

Give us your best short statement about yourself or your company

Yesterday, discount we got a few great Spotlight Pitches – responses to a spotlight question like “so, viagra order what do you do?” or “what’s your company all about?” Today, cialis 40mg we got an idea from Mark Dykeman’s Broadcasting Brain post: how to start 2010 by doing better work. Great thoughts, fantastic choices, and what’s better, the format inspired us: we want to publish your “Spotlight Pitches” on Beg to Differ!

Spotlight 2 — The spotlight pitches we pick will be published in a format something like the one above. Broadcasting Brain was looking for work habit advice. We're doing Spotlight Pitches.

This is NOT an “elevator pitch”

Every time I work with clients on an “elevator pitch” for themselves or their company, three things happen: 1) they ask for time to prepare and make notes, 2) they try to figure out how much information they can cram into 30 seconds, and 3) they almost always end up sounding robotic – like they’ve memorized lines for a grade 3 class play.

And as for content, inevitably, the “pitch” that results leads to a long-winded, jargon-laden tangle of insider words that we then have to untangle, prune, and tune for a human audience.

Now there is absolutely value in nailing an elevator pitch, and my clients are always happy with the results. But it takes a lot of time, and you have to acknowledge up front that it’s an artificial construct. The truth is: you may never get your 30 seconds!

What you do get all the time are spotlight questions.

So your answer has to be:

Conversational: it needs to sound natural, non-pushy, non-threatening. In other words, not like a “pitch”.

Grade three reading level: use simple sentence structure, not too many modifiers or adjectives.

Short: we’ll say 100 words or less, but you’ll get extra props if it’s “Twitter ReTweet friendly” – say 110 characters or less.

Universal: it has to be clear enough to help someone who is not in your industry understand your thing. Think long lost cousin at a barbecue.

Leave ’em wanting more: yes, answer their question, but in a way that also invites further conversation. Choose ideas that have legs.

Take a few tries: Yesterday, people gave a few short bullet points – which helped us play a bit with possibilities.

Open source: this is the Internet folks, so if you put it out there, it’s because you want comments, criticism, even remixing, etc.

Open for re-publishing: unless you tell us not to, we’ll assume you’re cool if we publish, ReTweet some examples, or (with extra permission) discuss your pitch in more detail in future posts.

Here we go, the spotlight question:

So, what do you do?

So what are you up to? Your spotlight pitch please.

Beg to Differ on how to answer “spotlight questions”.

Yesterday morning, symptoms while doing client work in my “second office” (the local Bridgehead), buy I ran into a friend, an acquaintance, and a former colleague. In all three cases, I gave them a “spotlight moment” by asking: “so, what are you up to these days?” Trivial question? Not at all. The answer to that question – or others like “what’s your company all about?” “how does your product work?” or “what do you do?” – is something I call a “spotlight pitch”.

Spotlight on… and… GO!

When I asked my coffee shop question, in all three cases, the answer was initially a vague “oh this and that”, or “getting by”, or “the usual”.

Sound familiar? That’s certainly what I want to say when someone turns the spotlight on me (and I’m a performer in my spare time). It’s like a moment of stage fright: uncomfortable, vulnerable, it makes us feel exposed, and we want to get it over with as soon as possible.

But those awkward spotlight questions are some of the most valuable opportunities any of us ever face. Because in that one moment, a person is asking you: “How are you relevant to me?” How can I remember you?” “How can I help you?” Or one step further: “How can this meeting become more than just an exchange of pleasantries?”

That’s a lot to pack in a short encounter I know. But essentially a spotlight question is the quintessential branding moment for products, ideas, or professionals. It’s your chance to either shine or be ignored.

Intrigue them. Wow them. Don’t settle for jargon, cheese-ball marketing speak, or pat answers. Most importantly: start a conversation.

In my coffee shop encounters, after probing a bit, it turned out that in all three cases, there were synergies between what they were doing and what I do for a living, and it turned out I could help each of them out. But that’s only because I kept asking questions. Most of the time, one spotlight moment is all you get.

So how about you?

Think about your answers to simple questions like that? The spotlight’s on. What’s your pitch?

I’d love to hear examples of Spotlight pitches that worked for you, or completely failed, in the comments below.

Logo design: Dear Expedia: a brand is for customers, not golf shirts

A unique logo design gets dumbed down by board-room egos

This morning, check whilst Beg to Differ was checking our favourite blogs, advice looking for signs of hope in this new decade, order we noticed the sad tale of a re-branding effort -or more accurately a logo design project – at do-it-yourself travel site Expedia.com (via Brand New). Seems that their distinctive, fun little logo wasn’t good enough for “the golf shirt test”…

Unfortunately, this is the deciding factor in too many corporate re-branding excercises.

What’s the “golf shirt test”?

The old Expedia logo design. Too much character for a self-respecting VP of brand marketing…

That’s where an executive evaluates a logo, tag line, name, etc. in terms of how it will look on their golf shirt rather than how well it works for customers.

In this case, it’s logo design. The old design was kind of goofy, maybe a little clip-arty cartoonish, and yes, a bit retro (read “old-fashioned”). But it did just what it was intended to do: it conveyed a clear brand idea. It captured a bit of the excitement and adventure of travel, while giving target customers a strong symbol to help them find, remember, and engage with the service.

Now that might seem like a good thing. But that’s just because you’re thinking like a customer.

Instead, think for a moment like a corporate executive who wants to hit the golf circuit with the big kids from IBM, AT&T, etc., with their important-looking corporate swag. You don’t want to stand out; you want to blend in. And alas, a fun, humanizing image can make a VP feel positively bush league – or worse, like dot-commie.

I get that. I worked for Corel during the heyday of Mike Cowpland and CorelDRAW. So I had to wear ugly shirts with giant rainbow-coloured balloons in the board rooms of Samsung, HP, Compaq, Apple, among others. I understand feeling self-conscious about a dorky shirt and wishing you could just change that bloody logo. (Note: please don’t look to Corel for an example on this one).

The new logo

The new Expedia logo design. Gosh that will look important on a golf shirt.

So when I saw the new Expedia logo design and branding tag (at right) I thought: aha! Golf shirt logic!

This new logo looks just incredibly… grown up. No more fun cartoon plane. Just a generic white jet icon against a boring blue globe. An executive with this logo on a shirt could blend right in with the leaders of airports, international aid agencies, government programs – maybe even defence contractors.

Paul Leonard, VP of brand marketing at Expedia, seems to have golf shirts on his brain. Brand New quotes him as saying:

“The whole look and feel is “less cartoonish”… We were striving for a more timeless and classic aesthetic. It’s a little less whimsical and more sophisticated.”

“Timeless.” “Classic.” “Sophisticated.” All words that are proxies for “Won’t make any impression at all.”

You could even stick this Web page on a golf shirt and no one would complain!

And one assumes Mr. Leonard also chose that very golf-shirt friendly tag line “Where you book matters.” (It’s a shame he forgot to decide why it matters – or if he did, he forgot to tell us).

One also assumes that the he also approved the generic look and feel of the new Web site – with no troublesome differentiating features to help consumers distinguish it from, well, anything else in the travel industry.

Dear executives: it’s not about you

I could go on. But brand managers, please: you need to help your corporate masters understand that branding is not about making them look good on the golf course!

A brand is about three simple things:

Helping customers find you;
Giving them reasons to choose you; and
Creating a relationship that will help them choose you again.

And sad to say, those three things just *might* not look pretty on a golf shirt.

But enough about me: what do you think?

Out of the Woods? Branding the decade that was.

So what do you call a decade like that one?

So far Beg to Differ has resisted the urge to comment on the Tiger Woods scandal. But a friend posted a story on Facebook today that seemed like a great way to wrap up the year, advice and the decade. Her four-year old asked her out of the blue if he could take down his Tiger Woods poster – after two years on his wall. When asked why, he said “it just seems like time.” Indeed.

As they say: it's hard to see the tree for the Woods with a driver in the rear view mirror: just one of the many brands that have decided not to invite the Tiger into their new decade. — As they say: it's hard to focus on the tree - or the Woods - with a driver in the rear view mirror: just one of the many brands that have decided not to invite the Tiger into their new decade.

The rear-view mirror: out with the old

The end of the year, or the decade, is of course a great time to reflect, dream, plan, concede defeat, or maybe just take a break from whatever little white ball you were chasing.

But one question burns brighter than any faded Tiger in my mind right now: what do we call the decade that was? Other decades have great names like “the Dirty Thirties,” “The Roaring Twenties,” or my favourite: “the Eighties” (the teenage rugby-pants, new-wave, drama-geek decade doesn’t need another descriptor – at least for me).

A few suggestions for branding the decade just past:

The Woods

Or “the Woodies” if you prefer. Oh those halcyon days when the Tiger was young and seemed infallible. Before we learned the awful truth: that he was all too human… er, actually a major sleaze-ball in his private life. And while that shouldn’t matter, we learned that when you build a brand empire around yourself, that brand is vulnerable to all the same failings that you are – particularly if your brand is built on a false perception of super-human purity.

But the thing I like best about “The Woods”, is that it implies we’re out of them now…

The Naughties

Or “The Naughts”, “the aughts”. Of course “aught” or “naught” are words for zeroes. My blog-buddy Nancy Friedman favours “the Naughties”. But apart from the Woods, there wasn’t really that much decade-defining naughtiness when you compare it to the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, and the “Bill Clintons”. Martin Bishop tallied some more here, but I’m not convinced.

The Zeros

Or the “nothings” Nope. Just too depressing.

The Ohs

Not bad. Positive spin on the zeros, with a touch of surprise and wonder, and perhaps a nod of the head to my old Denim Blues cast-mate Sandra Oh – but that was the eighties again…

The Terror Years

September 11 2001 cast a massive pall over the decade – as did the subsequent war-faring, drum-beating, and hysteria.

The O-amas

This one has a nice hopeful ring to it: we went from the evil of Osama to the fresh hope represented by (and hopefully fulfilled by) Obama. Time will tell on this one.

The Bloggies

Surely the emergence of social media and the democratization of the news cycle – for better and worse – is one of the defining themes. Or at least to the millions of us who blog about such things.

The Happies

Okay, this may just be for me again. But I have to say that this decade – whatever we call it – has been the happiest of my life. I started my branding business in 2000 and have had the privilege to help many dozens of companies, charities, and government organizations humanize their brands. I also got married to an amazing woman, bought a house, had three incredible kids (the diaper decade?), and started a little blog called Beg to Differ.

It wasn’t all sunshine. I made some people angry, and didn’t always dot all my i’s or even deliver 100%. But as I look back, I can’t help but feel great about the next decade – whatever we call that.

So as you take down the old posters from your wall, think carefully about what the next decade could become for you, your brand, and your tribe.

My four-word prescription for the next decade:

Keep making it better!

Happy New Year!

The big pageant

Beg to Differ reflects on a little Christmas miracle

Normally, more about we’re firm believers in the separation of church and business blog. But in this one season, we’re going to make an exception. On the weekend, Dennis Van Staalduinen was part of a real Christmas miracle – one that happens every year at his church. The miracle: the Christmas pageant happened again.

A pageant? You call that a miracle?

Okay, it’s no Jimmy-Stewart-running-down-the-street-yes-Virginia-there-is-a-Santa-Claus kind of miracle. But if you can increase the size of your Grinchy heart a size or two for a few moments, it sure seems like a miracle to me, and I’ve learned a lot from seeing it happen every year.

And I may even convince you that there’s a business lesson or two in there for you.

Believe in the impossible

Sheep on a rope: a glimpse of the mayhem from the Saturday rehearsal.

The miracle is that for the past ten years, it has always looked absolutely impossible. At the annual Saturday dress rehearsal the day before the pageant, kids are always forgetting their lines, a couple of key characters are always missing while other kids show up for the first time hoping for a part, and confused toddlers in sheep heads are wandering everywhere while their “shepherds” whack away at each other with their crooks and angels climb the walls.

General, hair-pulling, ulcer-inducing mayhem.

But somehow, on Sunday morning, it all happens. The kids settle down. Everyone (mostly) remembers their lines, the donkey says “hee haw” at the right moments, and no angels kill each other – or themselves – to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing. And every year, we all agree afterwards that this was the best pageant ever.

Is that even possible? Nope. Like I said: it’s a Christmas miracle.

Weirdness happens. Roll with it.

Every year I’m reminded how important it is to approach the pageant – and life – with a sense of perspective and a healthy sense of humour. That’s because the pageant is most successful when it isn’t perfect.

A pig in a Jewish stable? At our church, we'll figure it out... — A pig in a Jewish stable? Slightly unorthodox, but at our church, we'll figure it out...

One year, I asked the boy playing the donkey why he showed up in a Grim Reaper-type robe. He told me: ” I’m not a donkey; I’m a Ring-Wraith from Lord of the Rings!” So that year, Mary, Joseph, and the Ring-Wraith made their way to Bethlehem (and you can bet the Centurions and Innkeepers gave them a bit less grief when they arrived).

Another year, the baby Jesus doll wasn’t in the manger when Mary arrived, so the congregation was treated to the sight of a swaddled baby sliding 20 feet across the hardwood floor from the wings. Mary, to her credit, didn’t miss a beat. She picked up the doll and just kept going.

This year, a pre-schooler insisted on dressing in a pink Easter Bunny costume instead of being a sheep. We could have gotten uptight about its “appropriateness”. Instead we just let it happen. The little girl was delighted and the congregation had a good laugh.

At our church, we don’t sweat the small stuff. And we think that a certain swaddled infant would approve.

And the word becomes flesh

Every year, our pageant is a miniature incarnation. The ancient words of a powerful story get translated into my clumsy, corny script, which in turn becomes a framework for the kids as they walk through their paces. And lo, at the end of the process, all our fallible work becomes part of a beautiful, moving, community-energizing event that is a highlight of the year for the whole church.

Think about that for a moment brand communicators. I don’t say that what we do is equal to the Christmas narrative, so please hold off with the lightning bolts. But I do say that the same basic rules that run the universe – and more specifically the human heart – apply to us.

The words we create are meaningless unless they are “incarnated” into human emotions, actions, and commitments. And unless we can express our same old stories in new ways, in terms that even a child can understand, they’ll just grow stale on the page… or the hard drive… or the blog.

So this is my question for myself:

When I go back to work in the New Year, will my words make human lives better? Will I change my small corner of the world to make it warmer, richer – more human? Will I be generous or selfish?

Can I combine my clumsy efforts together with those of my fellow humans to create something beautiful that will last – something that is greater than the sum of our frail actions?

Is that even possible?

Did I mention miracles?