CUSTOMIZED CHANGE? DUH.

We call ourselves “change agnostics.”

As many do.  There are so many change management frameworks to apply that it doesn’t matter which is chosen.  Really. 

You could be a disciple of John Kotter.  A devotee of William Bridges.  Even ProSci certified card carriers.  To us, if clients prefer one architecture over another, so be it.  We’ll adopt it, embrace it, even.

But what we won’t do is slavishly follow the principles, from Point A to Point Z.  Why?  If you think about it:

• ·       Change is never linear.  Though the business case/reason for the shift might be apparent to some, trust us, it won’t be to all.  Somewhere, someone (or most likely, some group) will either have a hard time recalling the “why” or are troubled about the connection between the why and the what.  Too, a number accept the change at first, without whimpers.  Then, suddenly, in media res, they start questioning and erecting barriers.
• ·       Corporations are not the same.  Even if they inhabit the same industry.  There’s that elusive, differentiating culture, for one.  Everyone will admit that a Lenovo differs from Dell – not just in terms of products, but also in how things work around here.  And though many internal programs might appear to be the same, say, HR benefits or performance management, the determinant is in how employees think and feel about them.  So why would the same framework and tools work for each?

What caused our tirade?  One not-to-be-mentioned global professional services firm recently issued a white paper about the mandate for tailored change, driven by analytics, precision, and insights.  It advocates pairing objective and subjective data, ensuring leadership is on board, and following three roads to sustainable change through head, heart, and wallet.

Our response?  [The quick one:  See our headline.]  The more thoughtful answer:  Tailoring or segmentation is something our marketing and communications and advertising brethren have practiced for years.  Today, most of us apply customized change inside as well as outside, along with good hard looks at big and small data and a philosophy that uses change as a momentum, not isolated events. 

It’s never an easy path, this notion of change.  What are your thoughts, dear reader?

KINDERGARTEN ETIQUETTE: Play nice!

It could be a flipped finger, any digit.

Or a brusque response to a neutral comment.

Eating out and cellphone conversations, at the same time.

Even an online snippet that somehow can’t be recalled.

Many have called this incivility in America.  We prefer naming this, simply, bullying.  Because in any shape or form, in a variety of public forums, a sharp retort, interpreted a wrong way, can result in lost productivity, future bad behavior, employee turnover, and the very unfortunate downside of increased violence and suicide.

Research and academic institutes affirm this.  To no one’s surprise, an August 2013 survey of U.S. adults reveals that bullying experiences number more than two a day.  Half of respondents ended friendships; more than a quarter left their jobs. 

Apologies, usually, aren’t enough.  A number of employees are starting to instill and reward kinder, gentler actions.  NSA (we’re not kidding here) launched a program to increase cordiality, from registering compliments to recognizing those who show up early for meetings.  A Louisiana health system established the 10/5 rule:  Practice eye contact at ten feet; greet within five.  Boorish behavior has been banned from the folks who edit/work at Wikipedia; its code of conduct mandates that editors participate in the writing process in respectful and considerate ways.

What else is needed?  Role modeling, for sure (and that’s an activity that we should excel at, as communicators and marketers).  Two:  Promote and adopt the principle of least drama, solving an issue with the minimum of noise and hubbub. 

Lastly, admit it (we will, if you will):  Life was much simpler when we were taught to treat each other the way we wanted to be treated. 

WHAT WE LEARNED FROM RETAIL NAVIGATING

 ‘Tis the season for merchandising.

Everywhere, offline and online, retailers are ready for the Black Friday/Cyber Monday onslaught.  In addition to marketing the right products at right prices, stores have figured out their flows … and we don’t mean in the Zen sense.

Since nearly 90 percent of the world’s population is right-handed (and right-footed), carefully designed store trails lead shoppers to turn right, face an aspirational lifestyle display, then continue at 45 degree angles to find stuff.  Wide aisles invite us to walk quickly to our destination; narrow, encourage browsing.  [And clogged?   No one we know would stay long in that store.]  And a well-lit back of the store offers chances for leisurely looking – and much higher price tags.

Other retail strategies are well documented.  Like the shrewd placement of impulse buys (the trendier tchotkes) at the cash register or front counter.  Or attractive window displays with our fave four-letter word … that would be “sale.”  And most definitely, salespeople with smiles who do not ask “how can I help you?”

Holidays are, truly, the best times to be studying retail.  More than random facts and figures, though, are the learnings to be reaped.  Especially for communicators and designers who need to capture the same sort of attention insiders and outsiders lavish on gift-giving and the spirit.

For one, think hard about the paths you provide folks to find your content:  Not too open, not too closed.  Wide aisles, in our universe, equate to a lack of detail and description.  Whereas, narrow  walkways, targeted to the right populaces, will lead to the appropriate info … and rewards.

Two:  Cue ‘em.  Visuals at every point in the journey lure, supplying audiences the crumbs needed to pursue content or collaboration or activities.  [Most of us, when faced with unfamiliarity, prefer clear directions.]

Third (and, yes, there’s more … we’ll beg you to continue this analogy) is understanding our audiences’ EQs enough to not hover, to not fawn, to not be obsequious, but to instead offer guidance and advice while all are finding their ways.

And yes, all good excuses for our continuing to practice visual (and retail) therapy.

WHAT TALK REALLY MEANS

Everyone’s into conversations these days … on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, even the network-able LinkedIn. 

At least on the agency and client front, the latest dialogue is all about engaging consumers with the brand, creating occasions and ongoing events that encourage an exchange relationship.  Proponents point to real-time communications – on the Web (e.g., McDonald’s Our Food, Your Questions), through the Twitter-sphere (cf. Oreos celebrating lights-out or saluting different demographics) – in the same places we as consumers meet our friends and colleagues.  In short, brands are people too … in this anthropomorphic perspective.

Here comes our heresy:  Pardon us if we have a difficult time envisioning when, exactly, we’d talk with a brand.  Do we want them to advise us on our shopping habits, our love lives, the ways we conduct our business?  Is it important that we dub brands as our next best friends?  [Except for the times when we’re disappointed in service or need/want additional information.]  A brand is simply that:  an inanimate object that, often today, is given human attributes, emotions, and interests.  Most consumers, we hope, would know that their brand relationship is actually staffed by real people who work for a real corporation; every time we go to a Web site or email about an issue, an individual, not the brand, responds.  [Or usually does.  There are times … ]

What we want in an engagement with a brand is something of value.  It could be relevant information that helps us work smarter, better, faster.  Or an app that saves time and money or answers critical questions.  In other instances, it might be a way to express ourselves quickly, as in “likes” and “shares.”  And a split-second of laughter that might lighten our mood.  Even an unknown “something” that will, some day, add to our lives.

We talk every day, with our clients, our friends, our colleagues, our family.  Do we truly need to engage in that kind of talk with a brand?

NO SLEIGHT OF HAND

Get ready for a different kind of revolution.

Ever since most of the United States’ public schools substituted “keyboard proficiency” for learning penmanship (or cursive, as scholars prefer), a number of teachers – and parents, too – are opting for alternative instruction in how to hand-write.

No duh:  The computer and smartphones have impacted language (and, by extension, handwriting) skills; many educators report that kids find it difficult to translate a “tx” or “OMG” into the appropriate scripts.  As do quite a few adults.

It’s not so much that cursive – the joining together of letters in a flowing manner – is underused today; rather, its benefits are simply underappreciated.  A 1989 University of Virginia study proved that, when terrible handwriting was deliberately improved, so did reading skills, word recognition, composition skills, and recall from memory.  Less robust research shows that good cursive leads to better grades … at least, in elementary and middle schools.

What many miss in this low-key debate is that the handwriting of notes, of postcards, of letters, and of longer missives forges an intimate connection between two people.  It’s the kind of bond that many companies aspire to, an engagement between employer and employee.  How many managers, in your own career, have penned a note of congratulations or sympathy or, simply, a conversation starter?  Do you ever expect to receive personal handwritten notes in home or office mailboxes?  Have you? How often in the past year have you deliberately expressed yourself on pen and paper … to colleagues and to staff and to leaders?

We’ll admit:  It’s all too easy to dash off an e-note, where misspellings are quickly identified – and corrected before sending.  And there’s no excuse for being embarrassed about poor handwriting; even a combination of printing and cursive – how most of us write – is acceptable.

Longhand, in short, is tomorrow’s emotional shorthand.