The conversation in the RHB conference room in 2002 that launched our development of the Coherence model we now follow began with a question I threw out to our team for discussion: “What’s next?” At the time, none of us thought that question was particularly significant or profound. After all, times and circumstances were changing. The market was shifting. Consumers were gaining power. Of course, we’d ask ourselves what was going to happen on the horizon.
We were looking for a way to understand the substantial shift in branding principles and practices and we began wondering out loud: Given the diminishing strength of brands and their clear disconnect with our not-for-profit clients, what would be the next phase of consumer behavior and marketing exchange?
As you might imagine, we had a lively discussion. One thing we knew: without change, higher ed in the US was on collision course for disaster. Consumers simply wouldn’t put up with unresponsiveness. There were simply too many alternatives. And new approaches, delivery methods and, yes, for-profit competitors were gaining acceptance in the market.
Higher Ed is a Commodity
We all know higher ed isn’t retail. It’s not burgers. It’s not cars. It’s not manufacturing; it isn’t automated. It’s not jeans or toothpaste. There’s no return policy. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a commodity.
Nothing wrong with being a commodity. Though we often think of commodities in terms of minerals or agricultural products, a commodity is simply something of value that can be bought and or sold. That is certainly true of higher education. In fact, a college education is something of great value. But higher education’s erudite community historically resists its connection to consumerism and the possibility that education can be “reduced” to marketing practices and principles.
Yet, when a culture of customers can be convinced that low price or convenience or speed toward completion are all valid considerations for purchase, then we have a commodity on our hands.
Acknowledging the power of consumers is the most difficult step toward powerful exchanges. Getting over ourselves can be tough. But in order for coherence to work, we need to understand our audiences as customers and equal partners. For education, that notion drives us crazy. Isn’t our raison d’etre to transfer our knowledge to those who don’t know? Given that, are we not superior and “unequal” at the start?
At the time Coherence was published (2010), the world was experiencing a collapse of the pillars on which we all built our hopes—and retirement funds. No matter where you point the blame, we saw some of the worst of incoherence. Things just didn’t add up. One of the great benefits of the financial demise is that we were confronted with the opportunity to rebuild, rethink, rework, reinvent and, hopefully, the occasion to reconsider how to be more coherent.
Despite the record-breaking economic trading that we’re experiencing today, higher ed is still in recovery mode. And the realities of the recession left our customers with tons of questions: What is the real value of higher ed? Are the liberal arts justifiable in our current setting? What can we expect from higher education? How do we measure success? Can higher education—especially private higher education—be held more accountable, and by what measures?
You have the power to decide
What you have in common with everyone else in the higher ed arena is a window to re-examine how you’ll move forward; to decide how you’ll be ready for what’s next. This is certain: You must provide sufficient rationale for existence. In a word, you must differentiate. Clearly, genuinely, openly. You must provide a convincing case for your enormous cost. You have to prove the merits of your approach. You need to show the outcomes that make you a superior choice.
Further you have to deliver on the experience. You have to do what you say you do. Be who you say you are. And those institutions who survive will deliver more than they promise. They’ll be the ones you listen, engage and speak openly and honestly with their audiences. They’ll be the ones who practice transparency. They’ll be the ones who practice coherence.
What’s next for you?
On one occasion, I was in Florida “under the influence of sunshine” to inspire my writing. Alas, most of the time, clouds and rain plagued my retreat. Fortunately, my Mac works indoors just as well, so I was able to make some progress regardless.
My time away yielded a bright spot, nonetheless. As I am prone to do when traveling alone, I chose to pick a seat at a restaurant bar for lunch, not because I am a heavy drinker, but because the chatter there can be enlightening. Someone should write a book, “Lessons Learned Liquorless at the Bar.”
For this lunch I chose a place with outdoor seating and soon enough the friendly bartender offered me the opportunity to order a drink. When he brought me water, he asked my name and introduced himself as Alex. During my lunch, Alex used my name no less than seven times. “How’s that tasting, Rick?” “Everything okay, Rick?” “Need more water, Rick?” Needless to say, Alex got a larger than usual tip.
I noticed however, that the very smart Alex followed this name-calling practice with all his customers. I started to pay attention to the response of those he greeted. Even the grumpy-looking ones smiled. They all seemed to look forward to Alex’s next encounter. They’d stop conversation as he approached them. They’d stop eating or drinking. They’d look up and directly at him. Alex had their complete attention and admiration. I dare say he had their respect. He had us all right where he wanted us—at the paying and tipping end of the bill.
It’s a gripping sound, your name aloud. We all love to hear our name spoken (and our name in print). Your customers—donors, members, prospects, students, parents, neighbors, are like everyone else: they like it when you demonstrate your interest in them. They all like you to call them by name, to address their interests, to seek their opinions. So use names as much as you can, even when you can’t say it aloud. Here are a few ways to do that:
- Pick up the phone. Your telephone still works. Try calling your prospect or a parent or a donor for no particular reason except to express interest or say thanks. Calling during the phonathon doesn’t count. Let your allies hear their names.
- Use your CRM to personalize all your communication. Gone are the days of generic salutations like “Dear Friend” or “Dear Student.” Technology has raised the expectations of your constituents that you not only know their names but that you have the capability to use their names on all your communications, print or digital.
- Write personal notes and emails. The art of real letter writing may seem to have disappeared but the impact of personal notes has not. If you are average (and YOU definitely are not!) you receive about 85 emails per day. But also, if you are average (and again YOU are not), you receive only one personal letter every seven weeks. But, seeing your name handwritten carries far more impact given the time, effort and cost involved by the sender. The sender’s investment means more to you.
- Consider personalizing your digitally produced communications. But don’t overdo it. Find a coherent way to incorporate personalization. One of the interesting projects we have worked on is a video for Saint Mary’s College that incorporates personalization into a video announcing admission to the college. It works, not only because it is emotionally-charged, but it uses the name of the recipient repeatedly throughout the video on signs, t-shirts and college newspaper headlines.
- Use names whenever you can. One of my favorite college presidents memorizes names but uses first names almost religiously even when referring to someone not in the conversation. “I was talking to Steve last week and he suggested that…” I don’t always know what Steve we’re talking about, but I am assured that my president friend and Steve are on a first-name basis. I have to assume I am talked about in the same way, even when I am not present. I like that level of personalization.
My Florida waiter Alex knew what he was doing when he used his customers’ names. He was making friends, building trust and earning larger tips by catering to our need to hear our names. Smart guy. We should all take a lesson.
College “search”—the process of mailing promotional letters or flyers to students with qualifying characteristics—began in the early 70s as a means to open opportunities to schools that students may not yet have been introduced. In those days about thirty colleges and universities across the country participated in the College Board’s search program. In a sense, “search” was a means to target selected students as potential matches for an institution. To that end, it was less “search” and more “introduction” to students that met an academic profile.
Today, with more than 1700 colleges and universities participating, coordinated programs of online and print communications introduce students to hundreds of colleges and universities. Personalized letters, brochures and PURLs abound each fall and winter when test scores and survey data becomes available.
In our interviews with high school students around the country, we’ve heard their stories of the incredible amount of mail they receive. Many throw these mailings away if the school is unfamiliar, thus negating the benefit of being introduced to a new opportunity. Some document the arrival of their search mailings on social media. Some collect the mailings in dresser drawers or boxes or garbage bags (!).
Others—many others—of course, complete and return a reply card or inquire online or call a toll-free number or register on their PURL to serve as indication of interest in the institution. Or they may launch a search of their own by visiting college web sites as “stealth applicants” (at RHB we prefer to call them “self-managing prospects”).
Still other prospects do absolutely nothing. They don’t reply to anything. They don’t say “yes” or “no.” And these students represent the largest of the population of the search pool. Colleges and universities are missing big opportunity by operating with search as the only driver. According to the Noel-Levitz’s 2013 Marketing and Student Recruitment Practices Benchmark Report for Four-Year and Two-Year Institutions, schools indicated a median “enrollment rate of 2.0% on purchased names.”* I don’t know about you, but filling your funnel 98% full of students who will not matriculate seems wasteful. We can then deduce that names from other sources make up 98% of the class. Shouldn’t we reconsider making investments with this group?
Given the capacity for exacting data that pinpoints our best-matched prospects, the need for that qualifying round of “search” is over. Search was primarily used to determine which students in the pool might be suited to a particular institution. But now, we know that information in advance. Ubiquitous predictive modeling programs offer colleges and universities the opportunity to fine-tune their purchased lists of suspects to zero in on those students who are indeed “best fits,” reducing volume and increasing probability based on the students that historically have matriculated.
The second purpose of search was to indicate some level of “interest” whether or not the student “wanted” a particular institution. Since this paradigm has mostly reversed—it is now the prospect that needs to be “wanted” in the relationship—the idea that a student will “raise her hand” by responding to search is antiquated (if not irrelevant).
So, is “search” still necessary?
Perhaps a better option would be to buy the most refined, intelligent (dare we say smallest?) list possible and begin conversation with those students that would engage them with members of the college community. Invite them to college events. Welcome them to dialog with faculty. Rather than sending them information describing the college, let them experience the college. Better yet, take the conversation (and conversion) to the students. Go to where your prospects are and share an experience with them. Set up a store front in the local mall. Let them enjoy what it means to be part of your community rather than merely telling them about it. Expand the idea of what it means to “visit,” to “anytime we get to see the face of a student.” The science of enrollment management tells us that these encounters are far more fruitful than an “inquiry.” Construe this as “old-school with a twist” if you wish, but don’t let nostalgia get in the way of building a relationship with someone who could thrive at your institution.
In doing so, colleges and universities would more directly connect with prospective students while saving hundreds of thousands of dollars each. Objectively, it’s hard to think of a 2% yield on search as anything more than waste. Perhaps those savings from ineffective marketing could be redirected to scholarships, reducing tuition or a myriad of other things that would make higher ed more attractive and more accessible.
*It bears mentioning that in the current competitive marketplace, with changing and mostly shrinking pools of prospects, institutions occupying the same market position are largely buying the exact same names. In this light, a 2% yield from search makes a bit more sense. It should also be said that search companies probably don’t calculate their results in quite the same way.
Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in a creative idea that you fall in love with. Sometimes it’s difficult to break out of old habits. Sometimes it’s easy to think that what others have done is what you should do. Sometimes it’s difficult to do something different than you ever have before.
In all those easy or difficult decisions, the focus is on you—well, your institution. What you like. What you think. What you find easy or difficult. What you cling to. What you are afraid of.
Perhaps a shift in focus would better serve you in making good choices. When your focus shifts to your customer (and off of you), your marketing and communications decisions become clearer.
Take for example, a conversation we had with a client last week about a capital campaign case statement under development. When we came to the layout and copy showing the details of the campaign, rather than discussing our preferences, we talked about the donors who would read those pages. Who were they? What would they be thinking? What would they be expecting? What would appeal to them? What would challenge them to participate?
Or, consider the strategy meeting about how to assign regions to recruitment representatives during a recent visit with a client. Naturally, all were inclined to think about what might be most convenient for the reps. But more of our conversation was devoted to the patterns of their customers—prospective students. Where did they live and go to school or church? Where would their network of friends be? What natural connections might exist in a certain county or region of the state? How could we arrange travel schedules and site visits that would have the most meaning and influence on students we wanted to enroll?
Just yesterday we were discussing the lifespan of a microsite we developed for a client. When would be the best time to phase that out and introduce a new site? Could we just shut it down? The choice was easy to keep it live when we considered that the URL was published in materials that were still circulating. Had the customer not come first, the client would have missed opportunities for connection.
Backstage vs. Frontstage
Because workloads and convenience and “fairness” are typically big concerns, backstage work often leads our decision-making:
- Creating forms and fields that fit our CRM (over what makes sense and eases the completion process for customers)
- Arranging a campus visit experience that isn’t too taxing for the tour guide—or faculty member or coach (over ensuring that a family sees what they’re interested in and speaks to the people they hope to)
- Planning an event for donors that works into our academic calendar (over what time of year might yield the best response)
- Using social media to get “the word out” (over inviting constituents to meaningful conversations)
- Filling our home page with every request on campus (over selecting relevant information and easy navigation)
Instead, think about the frontstage experience of your choices:
- How little can we ask of our customers when filling out forms? What do we really need to know in order to take action? How convenient can we make it to seek our help or response?
- When welcoming visitors, how clearly have we provided directions and easy parking access? How can we make a visit experience the best it can be for students and parents? What will they be most interested in seeing? Who would they most like to meet? What questions can we be prepared to answer for them? What would leave the “best taste in their mouth” after their visit?
- How could we make a donor feel most a part of our university? What would make them feel that their involvement not only mattered to us but also truly made a difference in the life of the college? How could we demonstrate our appreciation that would deepen our relationship with them?
- What does our homepage really say about us? Can visitors find what they are looking for? Can a prospect find answers to questions easily?
In a time when customers expect speed and accuracy and when “user experience” is a watchword, it’s imperative that we think of customers first.
You make strategic marketing decisions every day. Focus on your customers and let them drive your choices.
Kinesthetic learner? Need a worksheet to help differentiate front-stage vs. backstage? Click here.
It has become the norm for a marketing firm to have processes and models for sale in advance of producing anything tangible toward the stated marketing goals. There is sound logic for this and not all processes are created equal. Processes vary widely in their rationales; from subsidizing creative work, to engaging stakeholders, gathering much needed data or building inclusionary ownership, for example. What is common however, is that “processes” primarily solve a problem that the marketing firm has. Not the client.
Yep, RHB’s process of coherence solves a problem that we have. We need stuff to solve a client challenge. Without that stuff, we can’t solve their problem. Obviously this is an over-simplification, but the concept holds: In order to maintain the consistent success and high-quality work we produce on behalf of our clients, we have a process that we need to execute. However, this is indeed our problem.
The truth about “process” is that it’s code for “getting the things you need to do your job.” But there are other, less frequently stated, rationales and outcomes that a great process can yield.
Why firms use processes:
A. Financial reasons. Firms utilize processes for financial sustainability. The best ones do, and at a cost. This is ethically OK. Really.
Here’s a truth: Implementation of creative solutions in and of themselves is inefficient from a business perspective. High quality, creative solutions require a tremendous amount of discovery, client review and revision time. When a firm only sells their solution at a cost that the market will bear, good design (the viewbook, the website, etc.) is often a losing proposition. A significant amount of time is spent figuring out what to do and how to do it before something billable is created. This is one reason for the billable process before the product model. There’s a throwaway quote out there: “Getting paid for thinking.” But the “thinking,” structure and cadence that the firm undergoes is what’s perhaps the most valuable to the outcome.
Why this should matter to you:
I won’t discuss why you should want your firm to make money here (though you really do), but there are a lot of features of a process that have value and investment implications for you. Does participating in the process produce more than the product? The answer should be, emphatically, “Yes.” The intelligence gathered in the process should be valuable beyond the purposes of the tangible outcome. That intelligence should also be accessible to the client in ways that go beyond the specific marketing objective. In a sense, the process should create an environment for learning together, not just from one another. For years we’ve heard that our qualitative process, Circles of Influence is as valuable as (if not more than) the creative solutions that follow it. This is because the applicability of Circles goes far beyond what ever we make using the findings from it. It can inform behavior, highlight points of distinction and build confidence. We can sell it because it has a broader value.
B. Client participation and stakeholder buy-in. Most great processes are collaborative and, to be truly collaborative, that means the process includes the input and values the intelligence (specifically) of the client. In the modern environment, if a client is excluded from the process, it’s a sure signal that what the client has to offer is unimportant. And that is wrong.
Why this should matter to you:
Two reasons. First, you have intelligence about your institution that the firm cannot recreate. You know the inner workings, the personalities of your constituents and how to function and apply the result of the process in your professional life. This is not insignificant.
Second, the epoch of silo-building needs to end. A process will increase in value to you if it intentionally convenes parties from disparate parts of an organization for input and transparency. Everything is important to someone and no one needs to be surprised (in a bad way).
C. Predictability and assurance. A good process should represent the sum of experiences that the firm brings to you. Simply put, the firm has determined what doesn’t work in a relationship with a client and builds a process that exclusively contains the time-tested stuff that does work. The good stuff. In that regard, the outcome is predictable. The firm knows what’s going to happen. A good process should also suggest assurance. Why? The outcome is valuable to the client and the firm, conversely implying that the process bears repeating.
Why this should matter to you:
A prospective client should be looking for a legacy of successes from a firm. This should serve as assurance that the purchase will yield a solid and predictable return. This also signals the process has been institutionalized and is a part of the firm’s business model.
There are five questions that I would ask when evaluating the process of a marketing firm:
1. Will the firm skip steps if I ask them to? The answer that you want to hear is “No.” But if the answer is yes, there should be a replacement for that step. This can be research that you’ve done with another firm or clear reasoning for not needing that step. If a step can be arbitrarily conceded by the firm, then it wasn’t valuable in the first place.
2. Am I paying for something that I can do internally? There are all kinds of things that your team may be able do on their own, if those talents and skills are addressed in the process. Another way to ask this question is: Am I paying for something twice?
3. How does the firm bill me? Will I be billed by the amount of progress completed or at the completion of the process?
4. Is there a clear beginning, middle and end?
5. Why should I trust this process? Has it been repeated sufficiently? What are the examples of its benefits?
Much has been written about why one process to achieve marketing goals might be better than another. Marketing firms make it tough on customers in that regard.
Not enough is written about why we conduct processes in the first place. The answer to that question will reveal a lot about a firm—and whether or not you should hire them.
Articulating your market position and influencing your brand are sequential and separate efforts.
In our work in higher ed, we see positioning (even used correctly) mistaken for “branding” all the time. Securing your market position in order to effect brand perception is the right sequence. But let’s be clear: these are not the same. Modifying your market position doesn’t become a part of your brand until external audience knows, understands and accepts that your claim to a position is believable.
However, a changed market position, can (and will) affect brand over time. Here’s one example.
Let’s say we’re friends (nice to see you again). I’ve just told you that I received my EdD in Educational Leadership from the University of Phoenix. I watch your forehead wrinkle. A pause and a congratulations. You’re befuddled. This isn’t because you can’t believe that I achieved an EdD in Educational Leadership. You’re cool with that. What you can’t believe is that Phoenix grants EdDs online. That’s not how you get EdDs. You have to wall up in a university and lose all your friends to get those. You can’t believe that achieving an EdD can be done online relative to what you know about getting an EdD.
The level of believability doesn’t immediately change with the University of Phoenix market position. I assume, slowly but surely, advanced degrees of doctoral level will become part of Phoenix’s brand, as they deliver more of them more often.
Your market position is objective. You either occupy a position (alone or with others) or you don’t. This is your choice. Want to add a school of dentistry? Do it, or don’t. Up to you. Whether or not an audience believes in what you do? That’s different; that’s brand.
What is striking to me is how many institutions choose to work at affecting brand perception instead of market position. Positioning is far more autonomous and can have a more predictable and measured outcome. It likely is more difficult work, requiring an institution to look deeply at themselves AND the market to keep or abandon what they may have been doing for a long time.
I think one reason institutions prefer to work at changing brand perception without changing position is that, when the position they choose to occupy isn’t something that sufficient external audiences will pay for, they come up short. What they fail to consider is called market need. Not brand, not even position, and also not subjective.
A further reason that some institutions aren’t up to the task is that a market position doesn’t suggest that you’re the only school in that position to the customer. If many schools can offer nearly the same as you, then you occupy a position with others. In the mind of the customer you are not the only provider. No positioning statement will change the fact that what you offer can be found elsewhere. This boils down to parity, which I believe is the single largest threat to institutions of higher education (if we all offer relatively the same thing at varying prices, then the lowest cost/highest value, most convenient, provider wins).
A market position is completely up to you. The point of a positioning statement is to describe where you are relative to competitors. That’s it.
Brand, on the other hand, is completely up to them. As Marty Neumeier says: “It’s not what you say it is, it’s what they say it is.” Brand is a concept in the mind of your customer.
Position is strongest when you are an only. It doesn’t mean you have to be the only, but no one will need you if you aren’t.
But get this: you get to choose your market position. (Cheering crowd noises here.)
This is the central logic to the process of Coherence. It is indeed a process and it takes time. The aim is simple: align what you offer with what the customer believes you could offer. Occasionally, for our clients, that means modifying their market position and then encouraging brand perception into alignment. In other cases this means articulating an existing market position more clearly and specifically and then conversing with customers to bring them along. Depending on the relative shift in market position this can take anywhere from a year to a decade. Whatever the shift, it takes time and continuity of effort.
The question shouldn’t be if you can afford to take the time, it should be can you afford not to.
In the past few months, I’ve had colleagues and clients note — in the midst of discussions about how to solve particular marketing or product challenges — that I was behaving unusually. Or more to the point: that I was being “weird.” These were, at least in part, statements of fact (I was being weird). But that’s because I believe that there are a variety of situational exercises that can help a team arrive at an idea that isn’t solely reliant on formula, but incorporates all of the due diligence that a good solution requires. And sometimes you have to get weird to get to that.
But here’s the thing: you have to really commit.
Often, RHB is asked to “get inside the head” of a teenager. This is relatively impossible, but if you gather enough information you can get a picture of what any customer accepts as normal; their preferences and dislikes. Even still, the teenage demographic behaves outside of what we (Xers and up) can normally empathize with.
Take Ke$ha for example.
I’m going out on a limb, but most readers of this blog probably don’t appreciate the music or behavior of Ke$ha. More accurately, you may not have any idea how anyone could like Ke$ha or her music. When you listen to her, I hear you saying “this just makes me feel old.” Which is another way of saying you can’t empathize with her fans and listeners. This has nothing to do with feeling young, or ceasing to like jazz, but imagine that you love Ke$ha and her catalog. Pull up YouTube and listen to it.
Don’t think about how you could like it. Just like it. Read her wiki page. Tell everyone you like it. Defend Ke$ha to your friends.
So, why would you do this? First, it’s easier to simply decide to like something than to rationalize how (not why) someone else would like it. It bypasses a discussion of the circumstantial. Second: deciding to like Ke$ha allows you to experience the implications of liking Ke$ha, which is a significant finding when working with an audience you can’t directly relate to. Most importantly, this allows you to define your distance from the prospect intellectually (what do they know that I don’t), instead of in years.
Use whatever example you like, but I find more polarizing elements of culture are effective. To get in the shoes of an older eccentric segment of society, I decided to cryogenically freeze my severed head for the purposes of reanimating it in the future. I just decided to do it. I read everything about cryonics I could easily find. I told Rick and Malachi my plans. I defended head freezing. I’m not really going to freeze my head, but in deciding to do so, I started to think about all the possibilities. What is the future going to be like? Why is this appealing to me? Will my family come to see my head? Whose body will I get? I really want to see the future.
Is that weird?
Maybe. But it allows me to get into a space that liberates me to think more authentically—coherently—like the person or group I’m trying to connect and communicate with. By going to a place like cryogenics or Ke$ha intentionally, even if it’s initially uncomfortable, and by going there deeply, I become open to and aware of ideas and possibilities that I might not have previously explored.
So I invite you to be weird. In fact, I encourage you to be weird. You really will be better for it.
I woke up this morning to a great email from my friends at Delta Airlines. The Customer Care Director Jason Hausner (whom I have never met face-to-face) wrote to apologize for my cancelled flight last week and to express his remorse with a nice deposit of frequent flyer miles in my account. He used his data to discover that I was indeed inconvenienced (and his records may have shown that my already-too-brief sleep was interrupted three times in the middle of the night) by the cancellation. What a guy. The problem with last week’s flight was indeed a bit incoherent with my experiences with Delta; yet, he recovered by taking responsibility and offering me, essentially, another trip. (I know that you may not like Delta as much as I do, but on the whole, I am quite satisfied with this carrier and use it as much as possible.)
My point: if you dissatisfy a customer, own the issue and make it right.
When you dissatisfy a customer and behave in a way that is incoherent, and you don’t make it right, you lose points. And possibly the customer.
Two cases in point:
- I’ve written before about Nordstrom as the quintessential example of customer care. So I was surprised a few weeks ago when I went shopping to replenish my cologne supply that a store representative was not positioned at the counter. A person who I mistook as a Nordstrom employee was behind the counter and said, “I’ve been waiting for ages and no one is here to help. Guess you have to serve yourself.” My ears heard this while I observed three Nordstrom employees chatting jocularly at a counter about 50 feet away from us. I waited a bit more thinking surely they’d come running over any minute. Alas, I had to help myself. In my effort to reach for the scent I wanted on an upper shelf, I inadvertently tipped the sample bottle off the shelf and it landed on a mirrored shelf below that broke the mirror on impact. Bad luck, right? Glass shattered at my feet. And the noise captured the attention of the sales team. A gentleman rushed over and told me not to worry, “we can replace the mirror.” “What about my feet?” I asked. He just looked at me quizzically as if I had asked something irrelevant. I made my purchase—I will still shop there—but Nordstrom notched down a bit in my book. They’re good, but, for me, not that good anymore. Coherence is really important.
- When one of our employees recently moved on to a new post-RHB life, we needed to cancel her corporate account card with American Express, the other iconic customer-care company. A few minutes after Tammy cancelled the card, another employee was denied a purchase with his card while travelling. We scratched our heads a minute and called AmEx back. They had cancelled not just the one card, but the entire corporate account. Human error, but a bad one. An error that took many calls to fix. And too many managers. And way too much time. It seemed odd to us that one call and one card cancellation would clear an entire account without someone raising a flag to ask, “After 22 years, is there something we may have done that is causing you to cancel your account?” or “Are you certain you wish to cancel the entire account?” Shouldn’t there have been a big flashing red light on the screen that said, “Danger, Will Robinson!”?
Now, lest this seem a mere rant, let me circle around to a point: Sometimes we think our errs aren’t that big a deal. But if our missteps don’t coincide with the ideals that make our brands, then they are a big deal. Here are three important steps to consider if you ever mess up (you won’t, but just in case):
- Own up to the err. Acknowledge first to yourself that you made a mistake or used poor judgement. Then you can admit your mistake to others as needed. But you have to be convinced first. Fake apologies won’t cut it.
- Be honest about what happened. With yourself and with anyone who has been negatively influenced by your choice. Don’t go overboard here. Don’t take responsibility for more than you did. But don’t minimize your mistake. Just call it as it happened and for what it is.
- Apologize. Simply and straightforwardly.
- Make it right. Apologize where you need to. Fix the problem. Make amends. Ask what it would take to make it better.
You don’t have to be perfect to be coherent. Just honest.
Institutions need to bring marketing in house. You may be surprised to hear that from someone who makes his living on doing the work of marketing on your behalf. I’m speculating, but any higher ed marketing firm that isn’t thinking about the future—yours and their own—isn’t thinking very much. The gist of our conversations go like this: if higher ed matures to the point of recognizing the relative importance of marketing and how they can and should accomplish that task in house with skilled professionals, for what services should they come to us?
In a day of high expectation for accountability, it makes fiscal sense to bring certain marketing activities in-house, specifically functions that are economically feasible. More specifically, I mean to say that institutions that invest in a proper marketing team should be creating marketing and sales tools for the income generating divisions (gifts, enrollment). Building a remarkable team, a bevy of freelancers and an efficient production process, will save you money and time. For (a not so sexy) example, let’s say you have a firm of record, and those pesky postcards come up. That firm is going to charge you $2000 a piece for those (we’ve done the research, and yes, everyone hates them). How many postcards do you have to pay for before you could’ve hired a designer with that money?
If you made this far into the post you’re thinking, “he’s going to tell me to pay for something next.” Not yet.
Here are more things that you shouldn’t go outside for:
Institutional data collection (including scrutiny of your competitors)
Most writing and design
Anything with “social media” in it
You’ll also note that most of these things are on our list of services. And, I’ll add that we do those things very (very) well. Which leads me to the next point.
In the future, someone will (still) take your money
The future marketing firm specializing in higher ed will fall into one of a few camps:
- Some will rush to tools that can’t be economically supported by an institution, such as call centers, boxed marketing automation products and CRMs or other “gadgets” that assist in implementation.
- Some will offer the same services that an in-house team can offer, but meet demand for increased capacity. Meaning, the institution has need to outsource design implementation (regardless of medium).
- A select few will achieve “boutique” design shop (shoppe?) status.
The good ones
Others will focus on marketing services that institutions cannot provide to themselves. From my perspective, here those are (in order):
- Interpretation of experience to expression
Most institutions I encounter struggle with this the most, knowingly or unknowingly. They simply cannot view their services objectively enough to measure true value. Higher ed, by nature, is insular. And for the most part, missions are written to be insular, but the relative importance of what we say and do cannot be seen purely from the inside. One example of this is institutions organizing themselves by delivery method. Objectively, that’s not a good plan, but from the inside, it makes perfect sense.
You don’t have to look far for the evidence: the keywords on your pole banners are likely the same as an institution 100 miles or 1000 miles (or maybe only 10) from your campus. Everyone is promoting the same thing, in the same way, utilizing the same language. Part of this is subconscious pack mentality (what benefit is there in behaving differently?), but that’s the point: it’s not conscious. It’s mostly a lack of perspective. Part of what a well-positioned higher ed marketing firm will offer is the benefit of working with hundreds of institutions and that should come to bear on the engagement.
Interpretation of experience to expression
The sum of the first two informs how the actual experience should translate into external and internal expressions. This all needs to happen in sequence: an objective evaluation of the institution, with the benefit of macro perspective, leading to a true interpretation of what you do to what you say you do and how you say it. At RHB, we call that coherence. The expressions, of course, vary widely. They can be brand books (we call them coherence manifests), experience design, focused consulting, key passages of language or sensory expressions. I contend that the best deliverable must be something that provides clear guidance and is perpetuating. Meaning, your firm can leave you, only to return when you need to reevaluate anything on those three measures.
In some ways, this post is a Jerry Maguire moment. It’s affirming our commitment to helping clients in ways that they cannot help themselves. I do believe, if more institutions were to focus on gaining these three types of intelligence, internal marketing teams would be sufficiently equipped to create, deploy and maintain marketing and sales initiatives in a viable way. And that’s good for everyone.
Ruckus. I love this word; the sound of it alone describes its meaning. Actually ruckus is a relatively new term; it’s only about 125 years old, which is pretty young for a word, actually. And it’s likely that it was derived from two words: “ruction,” which means “a noisy fight or an uproar”; and “rumpus,” which is “a noisy commotion.” Someone combined the two and came up with “ruckus,” “a disturbance.” We say “raising a ruckus” when we mean someone is creating a disturbance of some kind. And we are living in a great ruckus: fiscal cliffs, 99percenters, an unsettled Middle East, threats of nuclear armament, hurricanes and mounds of snow, and that growing body of knowledge and technology with which we can’t possibly keep pace.
The Army has a term they use to refer to environments of tremendous challenge. They call it VUCA: Volatile, Uncertain, Complex, Ambiguous. At the Army College, they teach how to respond, how to cope and how to work through VUCA settings such as battlegrounds. The current communications landscape may feel a bit like a battleground for you. Trying to get the attention of your constituents, let alone your close friends, and capturing the eye of those you wish to reach can seem insurmountable.
When you consider how much data there is the world to weed through, it’s no wonder those of us in the communication world are a bit, shall we say, “different.” The amount of information can make finding the truth somewhat elusive—difficult at best. We live in a confusing world in a confusing time.
That’s why coherence is so important.