WHEN WORDS DON'T WORK

As very verbal communicators, we find it hard to admit that, sometimes, our words don’t work.  

On a complicated, intricate change.  When statistics rule (and they do, these days, very often).  If emotions need to drive the initiative.  And if, plain and simple, a shape or color or legacy symbol says an eye-full.

Marketers call it the visual hammer, the one image that instantly relates to a brand or a company.  We think of Coke’s bottle, the Nike swoosh, the Tiffany blue box, Christian Louboutin’s red soles, even Paul Newman as real-life examples.

Yet when do you abandon words for a picture or symbol?  In packaging, it’s easy (or easier, ‘scuse us; the uniqueness of the look and feel can be a long time in the making).  Makers of Talenti gelato, for instance, scored a hit in the super-super premium ice cream category in part due to its clear plastic container, a transparency no other manufacturer can boast.  In older brand news, the Traveler’s red umbrella denoted the safety and security of its insurance products, a claim other institutions make in words and ads. 

In the practice of internal and external communications, there is a right balance between words and images.  The interplay works best, in our opinion, when a major initiative is being launched, one that must infiltrate every employee’s and, often, many outsiders’ psyches to be successful.  Sometimes, it’s a powerful “sans hyperbole” slogan – say, unusual acronyms or five to six words – that exhorts readers and watchers to do something.  For others, it first appears as a fabricated look that invades our eyes, and asks “what is this?”  and “why should I know?,” sparking the sense of intrigue that drives us to want more. 

It’s not an easy task.  We’ve spent hours and days and weeks thinking, free-associating, dreaming in our slippers, piling through content-laden magazines and thesauri, and using such tomes as A Technique for Producing Ideas (James Webb Young).  The answer?  You’ll know it when you read/see it.

THAT 'S' WORD

There are certain words and symbols that trigger us – and our memories.

JFK.  Mensch.  The Beatles.  Boomers.  Farmers’ markets.  [Okay, you know where we’re going …]

What comes to mind, in the last week or so, is the word “skinny,” the newly found and fawned-over marketing-ese (along with small plates and vegetable anything).  It’s being applied to cocktails, popcorn, and ice cream with aplomb; look for other iterations at your supermarket … and soon. 

Obviously, restaurants and grocers are ecstatic with the positioning:  slender beverages and foods simply encourage consumers, by their very names, to take another drink or eat another bite.  After all, low or reduced calories imply that there’s room for another.  [We have Bethenny Frankel of The Real Housewives of New York City to thank for this.]

Us?  Not so enchanted.  Those triggers we mentioned send off major alarms at the word “skinny.”   It reminds us of the emphasis placed on weight, on looks, on continual svelte-hood – especially in the ‘60s and ‘70s (yes, even when Gloria Steinem et al. were rebelling).  It gives, again, a skewed perception of ourselves, with comparisons to models, magazines, and others who seem to have no issue with eating.  Further, that low-cal shine has been justified by psychologists as “personifying food and making it more endearing … in a light-hearted manner.”

Yes, diet has a negative connotation … we’ll admit.  Which is why many of the successful weight-loss specialists have adopted healthy eating as a mantra.  Though we can’t quite get our mouths around healthy cocktails and healthy ice cream, let’s ask our marketing wizards to give slenderizing wordsmithing another try.

MS. (MR.) OTIS REGRETS ...

Clichés aside, fired IRS Commissioner Steven Miller got our goat – or, more precisely, stuck in our craw.

Though he apologized for the mistakes made by others, he never admitted culpability or said “I’m sorry” for the Tea Party targeting.  You could say that Attitude is endemic among Washington’s elite.  Or that accountability simply isn’t a politician’s strong suit.

In our perspective?  Wrong-wrong-wrong.  Today, apologies and regrets have become a matter of fact, issued for actions as trivial as forgetting to put down the toilet seat (heard that one before?) or behaviors as egregious as lying and cheating.  Think:

  • How often do you say “sorry” automatically for missing a meeting, forgetting to RSVP, or delivering a work product later than expected?
  • What’s your tone of voice when you apologize?
  • Why do you give your regrets … because it’s the right thing to do; someone’s expecting it; or, by saying it, you get what you want?

We could blame the Greeks for these wrongful apologies, since the word’s origin means “verbal defense.”  Often, when an “I’m sorry” is offered, it’s done more from a position of power and control.  Psychologists tell us that offenders do maintain their ego positions from an insincere sorry-sorry, even a non-apology. 

Which is the problem.  Apologies do carry an immense forgiveness factor, one that is immediately suspect when inauthenticity lurks.  That lack of genuineness in apologies might be attributed to our general 24/7 states of being, by the reign of non-accountability, or, simply, by no training in Manners 101.

How much easier to live in the 1930s, with a servant who expresses regrets for his mistress … in song.

WORD FATIGUE

Never have so few been confused by so many.

In thinking about the word “innovation” while working on a project, we ran across at least three different definitions.  Are we developing something that never existed?  Finding another use for a product-at-parity or commodity?  Or looking to expand the use and care of a service/item?

Then, we turned to our handy databases.  One limited search on the word – the last 30 days and full-text only – yielded nearly 12,000 hits.  Each hit includes different explanations, different parameters, and different processes to innovate.  [That doesn’t even include internal “googling” inside annual reports, on corporate Web sites for “innovative” job titles, and the most recently released business books.]   Everyone, in short, claims innovation, even The New York Times which solicited ideas from its readers mid-last year.

What’s more, there are ongoing, sometimes volatile arguments among those who innovate for a living.  The talk rages between ideating for efficiency sakes, sustaining an already viable item, and/or for disrupting the heck out of an industry [e.g., moving from mainstream computers to PCs]. 

Why the much ado?  Because it seems like, in the word melee, we’re intent upon the process and thing, not the benefits.  It bestows some sort of accolade to say Chief Innovation Officer.  Or kudos that we’ve cornered the market on ideas.

As with all these intellectual wrangles, we giggle.  There is truly no “I” in innovation.