OF SELFIES ... AND MES

If the Oxford English Dictionary is already tracking a word (in its online version), then we call it a fact of life.

In August, the word “selfie” debuted in the OED, though Russian Grand Duchess Anastasia probably counts as the first perpetrator (in the early 1900s) of the “self-portrait photo, taken with a hand-held camera or smartphone.” 

It’s so popular today that Time magazine named it one of its top ten buzzwords last year.  And numbers don’t lie:  23 million photos have been uploaded on Instagram with the hashtag #selfie (versus 51 million with the hashtag #me). 

Wait:  Further proof that the millennium’s second decade is “all about me” lies in the growing numbers of self-tracking smartphone apps.  Once apps are active, users can count sleep gained, food digested, fitness goals achieved.  These seven thousand-plus devices are wearable, tote-able, and generally affixed to almost any part of the body, quantifying and qualifying how an individual’s day is going.   [Like a smartphone, but oh-so-much-more personal.]

In a related bit of I/me research:  University of Texas research academicians probed the use of the word “I” versus “we.”  Surprisingly enough, professors found that those saying “I” more frequently were less powerful and less sure of themselves.  Those adopting the “we” language were higher status, preferring to look outside on the world, not inside. 

To us, selfies, self-tracking, even the “I” word could be seen as the ultimate symbols of self-absorption – among all generations, not just Millennials or Boomers.  For sure, today’s economy alone would prompt that “let’s take care of me first” feeling.  As would the boom of social “me” media, from Twitter and Facebook to Snapchat and Vine.  It’s something that we as communicators and marketers need to be more conscious of and more deliberate about … regardless of the reasons for self-focus.  After all, an inward perspective – am I genuine, am I honest? – is always a subject worth probing, with ourselves and with others.

PRETTY IS, PRETTY DOES

No, we’re not sexists or anti-feminists.  [Though we do remember all too well the slogan that prompted our headline.]

Our musings this day go to packaging, and why we pay attention to certain things, not others.  The food industry has it made:  They know, for instance, that 64 percent of U.S. consumers buy products from shelves because of packaging.  Drilling deeper, shoppers grab first by color, then by shape, followed by symbols and words.  Even more, the fascination with small versions in re-sealable bags and single-serving multipacks has proven to entice buyers who typically bag 50 items in the same number of minutes in supermarkets.

Overall, much attention is being paid to the Pretty Factor, a phenomenon attributed to Apple (among others).  All aspects of containers matter, whether that’s shape or color, graphics or labeling.

Why, then, do we as communicators, designers, and even marketers tend to ignore the look of the information we send inside and out, to staff, to consumers, to regulators and politicians?  [Omit, if you would, the annual report, the intranet, open enrollment, et al. which historically strut their stuff.]  So:  We’re talking emails, memos, reports, HR information, service and product letters, warranties … the standard stuff that usually gets slapped on a masthead and distributed.  The writing may be catchy and succinct; the message, clear and unadulterated.  Somehow you gotta know that at least 25 percent of recipients will (check one) 1) file it for e-review on a rainy day, 2) toss it in the stack of ‘to-reads’ on a desktop, 3) send it to a colleague with comments or questions, or 4) discard it altogether. 

Compellingness extends, in our opinion, to everything we produce.  Why not help way-overloaded staff who simply don’t have the time to scan their in-boxes … and label (with icons and illustrations) the nice to know, must know, must do items?  Or:  Design an instructions memo typographically, with steps laid out in bold print, no mouse type?  And:  Consider read-able alternatives to the thank you for your response consumer note – a postcard, a note card, even an animated email instead of plain-Jane look and lengthy text?

Pretty-ness, obviously, must be more than skin-deep; user experience work has taught us that much.  [As has life experience.]  What’s your take, dear reader?

WHAT OUR ORTHODONTIST TOLD US

As much as we recoil from even the thought of teeth and the dentist, one word in particular reminds us of our not-so-beloved orthodontist … and the many times we spent in his chair straightening and tightening our braces.

[By the way, our teeth remain as charmingly crooked as they did before treatment.]

The word also calls up memories of siblings playing with trains, and their continual work to keep them running on track.

If you haven’t guessed by now, the magical nine letters spell “alignment.”  And it’s a concept we’re run across way too many times.

Actually, we have no real problem with the philosophy.  In most cases, alignment is, after all, a needed activity, linking corporate goals with project and employee goals.  It started, not surprisingly, as an IT initiative in the 1990s, then gradually morphed into an effort that gets everyone, from executives to customer care reps, on the same page. 

And it does benefit the organization:  establishing trust among different functions, developing and following processes for decision-making and control, and managing risks, among other values.

What bugs us is the indiscriminate use of the term to apply to, yup, literally anything corporate that needs to be linked to a project or initiative.  There are alignment workshops galore.  Sessions to explore our innermost connections.  Consensus reports that detail who’s bought in, who hasn’t, and who’s on the fence.  It’s a lot of paper and a lot of time that could, very easily, be diagrammed and discussed in a few regular meetings and cascaded through lunch ‘n’ learns (with, of course, continual reinforcement of the agreements). 

Save us.  Please.  The alignment we’re seeking is the familiar bond between people … using simple agreements to ensure business togetherness. 

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.