skip to main |
skip to sidebar
So, we're walking across the parking lot at our 24-Hour Fitness gym in the late afternoon. It's still July, so the double-digit heat not only slams you from above, but double-whammies you back from below as it radiates off the blazing asphalt below our feet. There's a bank of tall trees in the back of the lot that provide afternoon shaded parking to anyone willing to brave a few extra paces to the air-conditioned lobby oasis -- well worth the effort, even though it feels like the rubber soles of our shoes are going to melt on the 50-yard frying pan we're crossing.
As we get closer to the entrance, a Jeep zips into the parking space closest to the door, which is clearly marked as being handicapped. A very fit-looking young man jumps out of the vehicle and briskly heads into the building.
My wife makes a snide remark about him not looking very handicapped -- and sure enough as we pass the car, there are no stickers or placards that would legally permit use of the space.
Oh, wait a minute. Look, he's left the car running and has his emergency hazard lights flashing!
"Like that makes it okay?" my wife asks.
"Actually, it explains everything," I assure my wife, who looks at me like I'm as much of a creep as the guy who just got out of the jeep.
"Seriously," I continue. "On page 56 of The Book of Entitled Slackers (ISBN-10: 019951742a - available on Amazon.com if you know where to look), it clearly states that leaving your car running with the emergency flashers operating entitles you to park ANYWHERE YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE -- whether it's handicapped, the curb by the entrance of the grocery store, in front of airport terminals, blocking fire hydrants -- anywhere -- you name it."
She gives me a courtesy laugh, and we head inside. After being checked-in at the front desk by the snarling young girl who always refuses to hand you your card back, instead preferring to slap it on the counter as if she were holding you in contempt for something, I notice Jeep-Jockey purchasing a huge container of some kind of supplement, and then dashing back out the door to his waiting-and-running "emergency" parked vehicle.
And then it makes sense. Cutting corners...
Everyone's so anxious to get ahead, be at the top, make the sale or close the deal (or have the perfectly sculpted body) that they will, more-often-than-not, go from Step One to Step Six in the process. This type of thinking has been aptly referred to as "One-Sixing," but to me it's just being lazy -- like parking in a handicapped space to save time getting the supplements needed to speed up getting that chiseled hardbody that, by the way, no one is really all that interested in seeing you show off.
There's a great book (this one's real) out there called Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture by Ellen Ruppel Shell. It's a little disturbing, but provides some valuable insights. In one passage, the author laments how we no longer see or really expect craftsmanship in products or services anymore:
"A bricklayer or carpenter or teacher, a musician or salesperson, a writer of computer code -- any and all can be craftsman. Craftsmanship cements a relationship between buyer and seller, worker and employer, and expects something of both. It is about caring about the work and its application."
Marketing craftsmen don't cut corners. They treat every task, every job and every project as if it were an unmolded mound of clay or freshly-milled piece of wood. They take time to listen, think outside the box, ask questions and then listen again. They realize the importance of steps two through five, and don't figuratively park in the handicapped space or use supplements to fast-track their way to a speedy solution. Because that solution will fail in the long run.
We live in a fast-paced business world, and advertising and marketing professionals are by nature fast-paced, deadline-oriented people. But there's still room for craftsmanship -- especially now in these troubled times when the stakes are so high for so many.
So, we're driving down the freeway in Hell... I mean, Phoenix. It's 6:45 p.m., and the outside temperature is still registering 110 -- a meteorological phenomena in many places, but here it just means it's July.
The post-rush hour traffic is back to normal – that is to say most drivers are pushing 15-20 miles an hour over the posted speed limit and yakking away with their Lt. Uhura look-alike Bluetooth devices crammed in their ear. The occasional old-fashioned exception being the "old" guy who’s talking or texting into some ancient handheld relic.
Anyway, out of the blue – or maybe it was a dust devil – appears a shiny jewel of a BMW driven by a young, professional-looking business woman – hair up, glasses, intelligent-looking and talking on the phone of course – but the difference is, she’s driving a convertible – and the top is down. And it’s 110 degrees outside.
For anyone who’s never lived in the desert, let’s get something straight. 110 degrees is HOT. Nasty hot. And no amount of moving that hot air around is going to change that or make it seem cooler. Even with her German-engineered air-conditioning futilely cranked up to high, it’s still like sitting in a blast furnace with an ice cube and a fan blowing on you. I don’t know – maybe her toes were reaping some benefits, and she was practicing some kind of Zen yoga concentration that focused on the coolness of the Little-Piggy-Who-Went-To-Market.
I’m almost immediately doubting the Zen theory, though – as she starts tailgating the Ford Fiesta in front of her in an attempt to inch up enough to make her (no doubt) 19th unsafe lane change of the evening by cutting off my poor wife who’s also now taken notice of her, and tapped on the accelerator ever-so-slightly to thwart our new nemesis’ plan.
Glancing over at our topless friend again, I try to figure out if there’s actually a reason for what seems to be aggressiveness. Bad hair day? That would do it for me. And her hair is pinned up. Bad day at the office and bad hair day, maybe? Hmm, she doesn’t look annoyed, nor does she seem panicked – like she’s GOT to get home in a hurry because little Johnny swallowed the new goldfish... again.
No – she seems totally unaware of anything around her. On her cell phone, she’s completely removed from where she is, and oblivious to the fact that she’s doing anything wrong.
So, she’s just a bad driver.
I’m not dismissing it or excusing her. But let’s face it – there are so many of them out on the road these days, the term “defensive driving” has never been more important. Get out of her way and hope she doesn’t take someone with her when it finally catches up to her.
But the convertible thing is another matter. Think about it – she actually took the time to put the top down before she got into the car. It was a conscious decision she probably made while standing outdoors in 110 degrees. What was her motivation?
You can make all the humorous or snide assumptions in the world (believe me – my wife and I did), but until we know her – it’s just dumbass guessing, and the behavior doesn’t really make sense.
Motivation is a strange thing. It doesn’t always make sense.
Which is why getting to know what motivates your audience or customers in any B2B or B2C marketing is critical.
Consumer (or client) behavior is sometimes like driving down the freeway in 110 degrees with the top down. It doesn’t makes sense – until it does. And when it does, you can start effective communication.
