The Jury's Out

So what happens when you put the cat in amongst the pigeons?

There's been much talk here in Dublin amongst property-watchers, hoteliers and mainstream business punters about what's happening at two of the city's most prestigious addresses. A year or two back, a local property-magnate pounced on two hotels, Jury's Ballsbridge and the neighbouring Berkeley Court, which sit on some of Dublin's prime real estate, and announced his plans to build towering commercial and residential complexes on the new site.

Whilst the city briefly mourned the imminent passing of two of its venerable old dears, the news was generally received with the coolness of a populace that has grown well-used to the march of progress and shows a growing reluctance to step into its path. Attention soon moved elsewhere.

However, just recently following the closure of the two hotels and the selling off of their goods and chattels, planning permission for the proposed redevelopment plans was refused. Our hero promptly sent his planners scuttling off to revise his scheme and then announced his plans to briefly re-open the two hotels as 'bed-factories' with all of the services outsourced.

This prompted real consternation amongst hoteliers who naturally wondered what impact this sudden and unexpected glut of hotel rooms at cut-prices might have on the market. It doesn't help that these rooms are on offer at two addresses which formerly enjoyed five-star ratings.

This confusion really challenges the strength of the other brands in the market. A significant reference point for both seller and buyer has shifted into an unfamiliar position and the market doesn't quite know what to make of it.

It's likely that those brands that took their bearings from the bigger players will struggle most to make sense of the new status quo. It's equally likely that those who set their own standards and pitched to the market on their own merits will adjust quickly to the new scenario.

Times of uncertainty offer a whole new challenge to both the market and the individual players who do business there. It seems to me that there's a lesson in there for all of us.

The Free Lunch

So, there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Well, I was invited to one on Friday and left it well-fed but wondering how the whole thing around perceived value plays out when something is offered for nothing.

A couple of times a year, I'm a guest of the Hong Kong Ireland Business Forum when they host a dignitary from the city that was my home for ten years back in the nineties. I've been attending for the past four years or so, and in that time, I've never once been approached by anyone there to talk about how my experience of running a business in Hong Kong might be useful to others in the forum. Or how I might build on my own links to do business there. As a result, I attend now for reasons that are more sentimental than businesslike. On top of that, the other guests are always an interesting mix and the chat at the tables (although only occasionally about Hong Kong) is usually good fun.

Whilst I suspect that we're invited more as bit players to put on a good show for the visiting bigwigs, this is a real missed opportunity for the Forum which is in danger of devaluing the potential for business between the two economies (as well as the individual contributions that could be made from around the room). I'm not suggesting that the Forum charges for lunch but they should seek a premium of some sort even if that's by way of purposeful dialogue.

In the same vein, there's an ad that runs on local radio here that insists that good advice should be 'free, free, free'. Unsurprisingly, I don't agree. I can't recall what they're promoting - and even if I did I'm not sure I'd tell you as I'd hate to think that I somehow gave those clowns more publicity - but it's expertise of one kind or another. Free expertise.

I find that free advice is usually ignored as the one receiving it puts no value on it. And although it sometimes seems a clever way to attract new business, it almost always results in a lop-sided relationship where it's more give-than-take for the business owner. Which leads in turn to the resentment, begrudgery and corner-cutting that leaves neither party truly happy. It's one of the reasons we at Islandbridge don't participate in tender applications that usually amount to nothing more than free consulting.

When it comes down to it, there's no such thing as a free lunch. Someone somewhere has to pay for it.

The music group Radiohead know this. They're releasing an album In Rainbows and inviting buyers to pay what they want for it (queries on 'how much?' are answered with 'It's up to you' and follow up queries with 'No really, it's up to you') which has led to some in the press suggesting that they're giving it away for nothing. But it's not for free. Radiohead are tapping into the deeply respectful relationship which they enjoy with their fans and it's no surprise to learn that the average price being paid for the album download is US$10. The Radiohead fan knows that nothing of any worth is for free and the group's confidence in the goodwill of their fanbase looks like being rewarded (in addition to attracting heaps of well-deserved publicity).

So don't fool yourself that you can offer a free lunch and get away with it. Even though a generous invitation to dine or take advice at your expense is always tempting, the issue of perceived value must be tackled by the brand-owner as it sits right at the heart of the positioning of the brand in its market. If left ignored, it can quickly devalue the business in the eyes of the customer and leave the owner out of pocket, resentful and feeling like a mug.

The Cream Of The Icebox

How do you switch off when you take a break?

Some years ago, we made the mistake of holidaying in our own country (Ireland) where, apart from the poor weather, I found it difficult to completely switch off thanks to the almost hourly reminders of my working life through newspaper, radio, billboards and overheard conversations. In particular, I found any mentions of brands that I was working on or alongside heavily distracting.

Since then, we've holidayed overseas, typically in France, where the change of language and scenery offers a good, easy-to-access balance between the novel and the everyday. Once we step off the plane in France, I have the impression that I've left all professional responsibility behind me on the tarmac in Dublin. Any thinking that I do around brands over there tends to be of the daydreaming sort.

Snoozing by the pool this summer, I basked in the background sounds of children making their choices at the refreshment booth and marvelled at how comprehensively Magnum towers over the ice-cream market in France and elsewhere. When I recall my own childhood, a time when ice-creams were sold as childish treats and the only adult choice in the refrigerator was choc ice, it seems extraordinary that it took so long for a brand to capture some of the more sensual and grown-up flavours of the treat.

Within my own family, I've seen how Magnum has firmly established itself as a brand of arrival, something you qualify for as you grow up. This summer, my youngest graduated from the ice-pops that had previously been his favourite poison to Double Chocolate Magnum, and I heard the talk of similar rites of passage echoed by other parents and children as they made their way to the kiosk and debated their purchase.

Magnum's more recent advertising for its Java flavour plays explicitly to this sense of ritual, makes for a brand that has truly carved out virgin territory for itself in the forest and leaves behind those of its competitors who wish to stay playing in the sandbox.