Notice Anything?

One of the best things about being in advertising today is that the effort most companies and most "creatives" put into actually getting noticed is so minimal, you don't have to do much to do better than 99.99999% of everyone else.

So many people and companies post things that are bland and empty. Milton Glaser who knows a bit about getting noticed called this (lack-of)-phenomena collective recurrence. That is, when we're so used to seeing something over and over, we no longer notice it. Think in-flight announcements for fastening your seatbelt or an offer for a new credit card. Or all-cap corporate shrill-mails to do your timesheets. Has anyone, ever, listened?

When giant companies post ads like the ones below, it makes you wonder not what they were thinking, but if they were thinking. If there is anyone in their entire company that understands the hierarchy of information that for about the 200,000 years of homo sapiens' presence on earth has resulted in lucid communication.

(This is how communication works. Every communication from a dog's bark to the Gettysburg Address.)

The only hierarchy of information that makes sense.

When I started at Ogilvy back in the 1990s, there was a dying corner of the place filled with old-school practitioners who just wanted to fly under the radar and leave everyday within spitting- distance of 5:15. They used to mumble, "the secret here is not to do anything too good or too bad. If you do, you'll get noticed. And getting noticed will only get you in trouble." That's the attitude in so so many organizations from the post-office to pony express.

One night at a different agency, when I was young but already an SVP and Group Creative Head at Ally & Gargano, a client of mine got two-clicks too drunk at the client-agency Christmas party. K and I lived near each other and I was forced to get a cab and get K home. None of us wanted to picture him sleeping in the gutter or drowning in his own effluence.

K was a middle manager well-past middle-age. A decent guy, but like an old ballplayer who's lost one-step-too-many, just playing out the string. In the cab, sad and drunk, embarrassed and lonely, K confided to me.

I've spent a life sadness-proximate. A crying drunk fat client is about as bad as it gets. It's a living, breathing country-western song sung by Franz Kafka.

The failures of his career were revealed as we sped uptown in a 1988 Ford LTD. "George," K said to me, my eidetic memory engraving it in one cortex or another, "you want to know my philosophy? 'Fly low. Fly slow. And try not to crash.'"

Joseph Heller described Major Major this way in "Catch-22,"

In short, and to be as brusque as a Joe Louis round-house about it, most communication has mediocrity welcomed with open-arms. Most communication doesn't communicate because most communication doesn't get noticed.

This isn't a media issue or a platform issue. 

It's a "not-taking-the time-or-giving-the-attention-to-make-something-interesting-issue." 

Almost everything we see we don't see because we've seen it so often. 

What's worse is current marketing "best practices," remind me of that old Borscht Belt witticism.

"The food is terrible. And such small portions."

Only marketing today says:

"Our advertising is ineffective. Let's run more of it."

When I was still working in an agency other than my own, I put some of this theory to a practical test. If I got an invitation to a 2:00 meeting and I was expected to say whether or not I'd be going, I usually replied this way. "I'm over-booked and running late today. I won't be there till 2:01.30." 

That's the sort of thing that takes you from "bland" to "brand." People notice you. Half the battle in an agency.

I first figured this out the afternoon of my first baseball practice. I was just 14 and brand-new in my school. I was the youngest in my grade, and no one knew my name. I calculated something and as eager as I was to try out for and make the team, I decided to skip our first practice.

This was my logic. 

The coach would call the roll. 

He'd eventually call my name and no one would answer. He'd repeat my name. Finally he'd ask the other boys, "anybody see Tannenbaum?"

The next day I'd show up and introduce myself. At this point rather than being an anonymous aspirant, the coach knew my name. He forgave me going to see a dentist or whatever my excuse was. He might have been pissed, but I had done my job. I was on his radar. (Also I could hit.)

Below is from a spread from Paul Arden's great book, which I've been carrying around with me for a quarter of a century. Next to "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl, I've probably given copies of "It's Not How Good..." to more people than any other book.

There's a lot to learn from this spread. 

Particularly the third word in the headline:

Noticed.

Back when this photo was taken,
the lens had to stay open for quite a while to capture the complete image.

One boy ran from one side of the assemblage to the other.
He timed it so he appears twice.

It might be a dick move. I can hear my mother cursing him.
But, he won.

---

By the way, the ever-surpassing Dave Dye had an idea a few years ago. What if he went to a local cheese store in his London neighborhood, and started "tinkering" with the chalkboard so many stores put outside their doors. Could the right words, typography, design and pictures drive more traffic?

You can read about Dave's experiment here and here. Here are. a few of Dave's sketches. 

To my mind, Dave's idea should be something most marketers try. It would be great if an agency tried it as part of a new business pitch. 

Make a lot of nice things.

See what works.
Repeat.
Reap.