Down In The Mouth

Am just back from holidays in France where part of the attraction for many years has been the way in which the French seem to get their food offerings so effortlessly right, both in terms of what they put on the plate and what they charge for it.

As a result, we've sat on benches and scoffed delicious baguettes, topped with little more than fresh ham, butter and mayonnaise, relaxed over linen tablecloths and elaborately prepared local specialities, dined alfresco on the open space beside our accommodation on the pates, cold cuts, rillettes and salads bought at the local supermarket or eaten crispy pizza washed down with local rose at canteen tables overlooking the harbour.

It doesn't seem to matter where in France we travel; the food is always good and the prices always fair.

So it was a big shock to us to find ourselves in a place these last couple of weeks which flew in the face of all that is good about French food. Beside the swimming pool in Pont Royal where we spent some of our days enjoying the sun and water, there was an outlet which looked like it would provide some tasty snack food, French-style, for those days when we couldn't be bothered to hike back to our apartment to make lunch.

The signs advertised organic food (which might have given us a hint of what to expect, because the French above all have rarely felt the need to promote the credentials of their food) and whilst it seemed a little pricey, we reasoned that it couldn't hurt us to splash out every so often for the convenience of quality food on the hoof.

What a disappointment! We tried it only the once and that was more than enough. The food, a mix of bland barbecued meats and fresh vegetables, was dumped on paper plates by the dour owner-chefs, who seemed to have little interest in whether it appealed or not.

This take-it-or-leave-it approach was so unexpected in a country where food always seems such a joy, that it prompted me to wonder about other sectors where the owners seem to believe that provenance alone should justify high prices, poor service and bad attitude.

It's not only restauranteurs who seem to make this mistake; I've found it too amongst software developers, car dealers and fashion retailers.

Maybe it's an easy mistake for any of us to make from behind the counter: the belief that our product should speak for itself rather than eloquently charm the customer. Judging from the efforts they made to win us over, the owners of the food outlet couldn't have cared less whether we enjoyed their food. Our solitary, cheerless experience was one that we didn't wish to repeat and so we ignored their offer for the remainder of our holiday and enjoyed our own (very tasty) picnic lunch instead.

There were no winners here. They lost customers whilst we had the thankfully rare experience of French food that left a bad taste in the mouth.

In Others' Words

Have you noticed the chorus of testimonials appearing in advertisments over the past few months?

Whilst there's always been great power in a third-party endorsement, it seems that customer trust in what brands have to say for themselves has dropped to such a degree that many business-owners now see other's words as the only way to build any credibility in the marketplace.

Here in Ireland, many of our banks, radio stations and insurers are making their own customers the stars of their advertising efforts, and despite my own misgivings about some of these businesses, I find this approach more convincing than most. After all, if a customer is ready to vouch for the seller, then there has to be some merit in what's on offer.

Despite this being an approach that makes sense, it's extraordinary how few businesses use it in developing their brands. Instead, they waste their time and ours telling us how long they've been in business and boasting about how wonderful they are. Frankly, I'm not interested. As a potential customer, I want to know whether what's on offer matches what I need and whether I'm likely to get exactly what I want once I put my money down. Hearing it in a customer's own words reassures me on both counts.

Perhaps brand-owners are too shy to ask a favour of their customers? They shouldn't be. In my experience, a satisfied customer is only too happy to speak up on behalf of a favourite supplier. You only have to ask.

Way Past Bedtime

How far can you take brand loyalty?

Earlier this month, we went to see one of our favourite musicians, Natalie Merchant, at Dublin's Helix Theatre. We've been listening to the music of the one-time 10,000 Maniacs vocalist for some time now, since she went solo back in 1994 with Tigerlily; and as far as we were concerned, she's one of the world greats, a true original who can do no wrong.

The singer was in Dublin to promote her latest recording, Leave Your Sleep, a series of children's poems set to music, and given her gorgeous reworkings of traditional songs on The House Carpenter's Daughter, we thought we were in for a real treat.

Instead, we had to sit through a mini-lecture on the poets who wrote the original rhymes and on Merchant's songwriting process, complete with slideshow portraits, and interspersed with what felt like only snatches of song. Even the author didn't seem terribly interested in what she had to say or sing, delivering her seminar with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude that suggested she herself found the format less than compelling.

What was remarkable about the evening was the good humoured indulgence of the audience, many of whom faced a long trip home before bedtime and sat half-dozing through the slideshow. It seems that the artist has built up such loyalty in her brand that we were prepared to allow her this sleepwalk through her latest project, like old friends sitting uncomplainingly through pictures of first day at school, scenes at the beach, and darlings in first holy communion splendour, stifling a yawn but too polite to make excuses and leave.

Only towards the end of the evening did we grow audibly restless, and the singer responded by finishing with five of her crowd-favourites, which brought the audience to its feet and sent us out into the night finally feeling we'd been at a concert. Or perhaps she'd always intended to reward us for our patience?

Speaking with friends afterwards, it seems that everyone there was similarly disappointed with most of the evening and I found myself wondering whether a brand can take uncomplaining loyalty too far.

Of course, Natalie Merchant is not the first artist to test her faithful's patience in this way. I remember hearing stories of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and other greats, wilfully refusing to indulge their audiences when they had a new project to promote. Something about the set of Merchant's jaw, even from the distance of the thirty feet or so that separated us, suggested that she too was not inclined to pick up on the restless cues of her audience.

Those of us who work hard to build a devoted following for our brand can count on a certain tolerance from our customers but when this spills over into self-indulgence even the greatest loyalists will have their doubts.

No more bedtime stories for me, thanks!

Devaluing The Customer

'As one of our valued customers...'

I was tempted to stop reading at this point and bin the letter, but I knew no harm was intended, so continued on reluctantly.

Now I know it's well-meaning, but I find being addressed in this way is a real turn-off. The thought of being someone else's 'valued customer' puts me in mind of an oily huckster, rubbing his hands in glee at the prospect of another quick buck.

In the same way as I don't like to be called 'my friend' by a perfect stranger or 'pal' by someone whose angry tone tells me I'm anything but, the idea of being the 'valued customer' of a brand leaves me cold. Whilst I understand the sentiment (the company wants to tell me that my business matters to them), it's awkward and more likely to drive a wedge between me and them than to bring us any closer.

It's much better for a brand to lose the pompous, over-friendly language and choose words instead that better reflect the real relationship it enjoys with me.

Something along the lines of 'your business is important to us', backed up with evidence of how they value my custom is much more likely to win me over and keep me with them until the end of the message. As it was, only good manners stopped me from tearing up the letter and despatching it to the bin.

Over To You: What type of language from brands leaves you cold?

Stealing The Riches To Leave Us The Poorer

We were robbed!

Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe's hugely disappointing Robin Hood has raided the classic tale, stripped it of its valuables and left it for dead under the greenwood. The film had looked like the perfect family outing: a director / actor combination that we'd all loved in Gladiator, a great supporting cast, and above all, the promise of a new take on an epic story that always thrills no matter how often we've heard it told before.

But this was no Robin Hood. Sure, he was there in name, as were his merry men, alongside King Richard (briefly), Prince John and the rather nondescript Sheriff of Nottingham. And there was some token taking from the rich but only to give to the hard done by gentry. Yet where was the ingenious rascal, taking on the might of the stolen crown in a series of daring escapades, stunts and rescues? Where, in particular, were the rapier-sharp exchanges between our dashing outlaw and his dastardly and scheming opponent, the Sheriff of Nottingham?

Now, I know these can be (and have been) overdone, but they are at the heart of the charm of Robin Hood.

Instead, this Robin Hood plays like a greener Braveheart or a more sociable Maximus. Meanwhile, his enemies are weak, greedy and disloyal, rather than really bad. The result is a paler, dappled version that lacks the essential appeal of the great story that has persisted in one form or another since at least the early days of the last millennium.

On its own terms, this probably wasn't a bad film but we felt robbed of the promise held out in its title. Whilst the new story was engaging enough at times, by the end we didn't feel as though we really cared about what happened to Robin, Marian and the others. They didn't stand for anything important and the film played like a worthy piece of history rather than the great sweeping epic of yore.

This isn't just about a film that disappoints. There's a lesson in there for any of us who set out to tell a great story through branding. When you find a good yarn, it's up to you to tell it. Stick to your story and don't depart from it just to appear more relevant or interesting.

For my money, this Robin Hood stole one of the richest names in history, messed up the storytelling, and left us the poorer for it. Shame on you, Messrs. Scott and Crowe.