The Zombification of Us All

Maxi-clickage.

You May Not Leave Gawker

It couldn't have happened to a more deserving group. Gawker, the flagship blog of the Gawker media empire, was hacked, with hundreds of thousands of emails and passwords made available to the public. Maybe it's millions, I don't know. But mine was among them and I've been changing most passwords this week just to be safe. I hadn't logged into Gawker in probably two years, the level of cynicism and sarcasm beyond what even an ass like myself was willing to engage in too often. I could not play with those kids. It is the Big Leagues of Dickishness, and I am only a farm-club player. I can't live in full-time snark. It's fun as a hobby and something I dabble in out of my own frustration with not being able to rule the world as its benevolent dictator, but it can get into your soul if you play with it too seriously. Kind of like Satanism. It's fine on the weekends, but once you start drawing pentagrams in the kitchen on a Wednesday morning, well, you're only a couple steps from sacrificing virgins. 

The commenter community at Gawker is nothing like the YouTube comment community. On YouTube you expect little more than name calling, insults, blatant spam and expletives, all usually spelled poorly or typed in Middle School Text Speech. On Gawker, it's more like a giant convention hall of would-be comedians who also happen to be the most smug, snarky and snide group you will ever encounter. In fact, Gawker states, "You need to audition to become a commenter." That was half the fun of dropping in on a Gawker thread. Some of the comments were hilarious one-liners and rapid-fire jabs just dripping with the kind of cruel comedy usually reserved for celebrity roasts. And I'm pretty sure it was that attitude of superiority that caused the hacker collective Gnosis to attack them.

So I thought now would be a good time to renounce the Church of Gawker. I got my "You'd better change your password" email from the administrators of the site, and I complied. But then I wanted out. Hang up my black robe and turn in my goblet of goat's blood. No such luck. From Gawker's recently modified FAQ:

How can I delete my account?
We understand how important trust is on the web, and some of you may wish to delete your Gawker Media account. Currently account deletion is not available. We will, however, give you this option as soon as possible.

That is the biggest load of corporate bullshit I have ever read. I know because I often write it. What Gawker is saying between the lines here is:

Look, if we let everyone bail right now we'd be in a world of hurt. We know you're pissed and we understand you want to leave, but we're not going to let you. We covet this list of users as our lifeblood. It is one of the things that tells advertisers how valuable we are. A mass exodus right now would screw us bad. You may not leave. Maybe later, but not now.

I tried to look at this from an IT standpoint and I still think it's bullshit. OK, maybe Gawker is afraid that some of the hacked emails and passwords will cause other crafty types to just start deleting Gawker accounts willy-nilly. Yeah, I could see that. But if I've already changed my password and confirmed I am the account-holder, why can't I get out now? Are we waiting for EVERYONE in the Gawker community to change their passwords before we are allowed to opt out? That'll take a while. Gawker's true hope here is that when they finally announce you are allowed to opt out, you will have forgotten or forgiven the Hack Heard Round the World. And they'll bury the announcement somewhere deep on the site if and when that time comes.

If an IT guru knows differently, please let me know, but my own consultations with a few skilled coders have confirmed for me that this is a giant load of shit on Gawker's part. The time it would take to write and test a code allowing confirmed users out of Gawker would be minimal.

What Some Company's On-Hold Messaging Should Sound Like

And when I say "some company's" I mean the company mentioned in this little MP3. The game show host voice style is modeled directly from the actual company's on-hold voiceover guy, as is the horrendous accent he employs when he asks you to "marque el dos." The rest is just me being an angry customer who likely won't use this company again.

At the Company's One-Day Retreat

Make it larger by using your computer's pointer device and clicking anywhere on the image.

Do You Know This Brand?

If you live anywhere near where men of action drive big trucks and act mean when they're getting their energy drinks at 7-Eleven, you've seen this decal on the backs of those big trucks.

I'd been seeing it for some time and for the life of me couldn't find out what it stood for. I searched "deer head logo" and "antler decal" to no avail. Then on Sunday, I saw two of these on the windshield of a muddy Jeep, with the word BROWNING in giant white letters between the deer heads. Yes, someone is so devoted to Browning that they've plastered the name on their windshield. This is fan loyalty in the extreme and it's a trend any brand would pay big money for.

I haven't hunted deer in many years, not since my brother-in-law stuck me up in his tree-stand with a joint and a rifle at 5:30 on a freezing November morning in Missouri. After the joint, I really had no interest in looking for deer and was instead enthralled with the way the long brown grass was waving in the wind. I know a lot of hunters, I grew up around guns and I can shoot pretty straight, but I'm just not that into it. Many others are very into it and Browning has cultivated a cult of sorts with this deer head logo. They call it the "Buckmark."

Here's Brandy, showing off her Buckmark tattoo. She even put a "TM" next to the words "Country Girl." That is really sweet, and I'll bet Brandy is a really cool chick and makes killer venison jerky. I know she can down a few Busch Lights while swigging from a bottle of Jack and singing "Sweet Home Alabama" all summer long.

This is Tyler. He's got the Buckmark on his right bicep as well as his day-glo orange safety hunting cap. Tyler is not going to college and that's fine. College isn't for everybody. By the time he's 30, Tyler will have many stories of the big bucks he's bagged and he will never worry about doing a 9 to 5. He's the kind of guy who could pick up odd jobs around town and be perfectly happy so long as there's gas in the camoflauged ATV and a bottle of doe-in-heat urine in his vest pocket.

When Michael asked his girl to the prom, she outdid the Buckmark on his vest lapel and put one on her orange tarp dress. That is serious love, man.

Oh, sure, it's easy to make fun of hunters and gun owners and hillbillies, and those same people make fun of me when I get together with them. ("You're a writer? What do you write? Like, letters and such?") But this is a story about brand loyalty. These people love Browning. There are over 2,000 more examples of people showing their love for Browning right here. It's all a part of the "Show Us Your Buckmark" contest, the winner of which will win, what else, a Browning rifle.

Here's a comprehensive history of the brand's logo, a mark they've been using for 30 years.

How many companies can inspire this kind of devotion, that their fans would literally brand themselves with the brand's logo? I can't think of one. UPDATE: Anonymous points out in the comments that Harley-Davidson fans are just as devoted. Good call.

AT&T and Apple: Smelly Pirate Hookers

A long time ago, (the 1990s) before everyone and their grandma ditched their landlines for their cell phones, a bunch of telecoms would compete vigorously for your long distance service. There were rebates and incentives to get you to switch, and the MCIs, AT&Ts and Sprints of the world were locked in a fierce death struggle. I remember one particular promotion in which AT&T offered anyone who had left them $100 to come back. As a loyal AT&T customer, this pissed me off, so I called them and said,

"Hey! I never left! Where's my $100? You reward people who left you for MCI and then come back? What about the people who never left you? I'm leaving unless you give me $100."

So they applied $100 to my account. I guess those were the glory days for customer service reps, when your random call-center jackleg in West Covina could toss around hundred-dollar bills.

Now, AT&T Wireless, (formerly Cingular) in conjunction with Apple (formerly the Satanic Church of Steve Jobs) are at it again.

I bought my iPhone in May. Now the new one is out. And it's pretty. And Better. Stronger. Faster. Apple was kind enough to let me know of the new version of the iPhone in a SPAM email they sent me, my very first SPAM from Apple since registering at iTunes and the App store.

If you've never owned an iPhone before, you can have this baby for just $199. Of course you'll also need to sign a two-year, iron-clad, sacrifice-your-children, accept the mark of the Beast contract with AT&T.

The $199 has an asterisk next to it. That asterisk is for those of us already in love with the iPhone. Its' text reads:

Requires new two-year AT&T wireless service contract, sold separately to qualified customers; credit check required; must be 18 or older. For non-qualified customers, including existing AT&T customers who want to upgrade from another phone or replace an iPhone 3G, the price with a new two-year agreement is $499 (8GB), $599 (16GB), or $699 (32GB).

I believe this is taught in business schools in a course called "Fucking Your Customers - Locking Them In and Hanging Them Out to Dry."

I'm trying to figure out the business logic of treating your current customers this way. I think it boils down to:

"We've got Dave locked in for two years as it is. In two years' time, he will either: (A) Break his iPhone and need a new one; (B) Sell his iPhone on eBay and then come back for the new one, in which case his two-year contract starts all over again; or (C) Quickly forget about this slight after blogging about it.

Attention Apple and AT&T: I don't need you. There are other phones in the sea (or something like that). There are other companies ready to counter this strategy where you woo new customers at the expense of your current customers. Something about "shitting in your nest" comes to mind.

I'm really mad at you bastards, and in two years, I'll make you pay!

Not Exactly Mom & Pop - But Better Than a Big Box

It's almost summer, so yard work and home repair are picking up. Some ceiling fans on the back porch needed new blades, sagging after too many humid summers spinning. So naturally, like a dumb American, I went to Lowe's and bought two sets of blades for $25 each, the red-vested salesman assuring me that they were "universal" and indeed the packaging indicated the same. "Only ones we have and they should work," he said. Get them home and they don't line up with the brackets that hold the blades. Take them back to Lowe's. Get a refund. Go to Home Depot across the street. (Lowe's and Home Depot always do this, just like Walgreen's and CVS like to set up new stores at opposite corners of a busy intersection.) This time I brought the bracket to avoid the same mistake. Fan department guy says, "No, don't have that size. But you can buy a set of brackets along with the blades, but by the time you do that, you may as well buy a whole new fan." Sensing my reluctance to do that, he said, "You know where you should go? Dan's Fans up the street." "Think he's open Sundays?" I asked. "He'd better be if he wants to make any money," said the orange-aproned man.

Dan's was open, spinning fans in the window announcing that fact before I ever saw the neon "Open" sign. The parking lot of the little strip mall was fairly bare, and upon entering, I now made up the entire clientele of the store.

Two hundred fans hung overhead, at least a third of them spinning, and yet there wasn't a sound from one of them. Blades in hundreds of styles hung from the walls and I knew the guy at Home Depot had sent me to fan heaven. I suspected the prices were going to be extravagant, noticing one beautiful model that had two heads that spun sideways like propellers marked at over $1,000.

The only other person in the store was a white-haired man who was on the phone behind a counter. He eventually approached me. I held out my dirty old bracket. "Need a couple sets of blades that'll fit this." He examined it and offered that while it was an unusual size and rightly guessed that it was from an outdoor fan, he could sell me some new blades that came from units that they'd sold but the buyers wanted different blades. "Not plastic like you should use for outdoor," he added, "But they'll last you five or six years." I noted to the gentleman that there wasn't a sound in the store, even with all these fans running. "Dan's fans aren't like other fans," he said, going on to give an explanation about dual motor bearings that I half-understood.


He disappeared into the back of the store and returned with two sets of the orphaned blades, still in their packaging.

Eight dollars per set. Paid with cash. Hand-written receipt. A Sunday afternoon time warp.

Long live Dan's Fan City.

Good Customer Service is Just an Email Away

The Germans are proud of their beer. The world is proud of Germany’s beer. The gods of wine and beer are proud of Germany’s beer. And many little towns across Germany have their own breweries. The smallest, most dilapidated brewery in Germany could still make a better beer than any giant beer corporation in the U.S. The Germans were making beer long before Columbus was even born, and long before he had ever approached Ferdinand and Isabella about the possibility of sailing west. The King and Queen probably sent Columbus off with his ships' holds full of German beer. At Columbus' farewell party, it is rumored that the following conversation was overheard.

“Ahhh, those Germans. Their beer is good, yes my queen?”

“The best, Ferdinand. The best. Ahhh…there he is, the guest of honour. Chris! Come here, I bid you.”

“Your Grace,” he bowed, “I must declare again how deeply indebted I am to the mercy and benevolence of your Worship, to that of the King as well, for bestowing upon me the great honour of sailing on this journey for the noble and righteous flag of Spain.”

“Right." Isabella was tipsy and not in the mood for Chris' sycophantic groveling. She held up a brown bottle. "Chris, do they have beer like this in Italy?”

“No, Your Highness. The Germans have a way.”

“Very well then, you shall have a case of German beer aboard all of your ships for the merriment of your officers and crew.”

“Your charity is most highly treasured by me, your humble servant. Can we make it a couple of cases, Your Majesty?”

Many years ago, in that faraway land, I had the fortune of being able to drink beer at the age of 14. Some may consider that a misfortune, but in a country where they give babies beer, it was no big thing. All of us underage Americans drank beer, and to misquote the Most Interesting Man in The World, "We didn't always drink beer, but when we did, we preferred Licher." (Licher's not-so-cool slogan, "From the heart of nature" is weak, but they've stuck with it for decades, which says something for consistency, I suppose.)

I've trolled the beer forums and found countless people pining for this brand, to include soldiers who were stationed in the region where Licher is made as far back as the early 60s. They leave comments like "Why isn't this beer in the US???? The best beer in the world and it's not in the US. Wish I can get some now," and similar whining. A few have found a bottle or two in New Jersey, but only of the wheat variety. Others had said, "No use contacting them on their website, they don't respond." I thought I should test that assertion.

So I went to Licher's website and found the "Kontakt" form and sent them a kind note, suggesting that they might make millions of dollars in the US beer market. The rumors that Licher does not respond to web inquiries are false, or maybe you just have to know how to kiss ass. I peppered my query with words like, "Surely you are aware of the popularity of your beer here in America," and "People are upset that they cannot obtain this world class beer here," and I told them they might be missing out on monstrous monetizing opportunities. That was sent last Thursday. Today in my inbox I have a reply.

Dear Dave,

Thank you very much for your mail and interest in Licher beer.

The Licher Brewery belongs to the Bitburger Brewing Group and the export business is all coordinated from Bitburg. Your e-mail was forwarded to me from the Licher Brewery.

Unfortunately we are not yet represented in the States with Licher Beer. We have plans to introduce Licher Pils beer in the near future but the negotiations are not yet finalized.

As soon as I have some more news I will let you know.

Kind regards,

Margit Mertes

And a hearty 'Danke schön' to Ms. Mertes for her prompt response, and nice job on the part of Licher to get my email into the appropriate hands. I trust we are on our way toward a healthy trade with the Bitburger Brewing Group. I don't know what sorts of red-tape are holding things up, but surely we can cut through this nonsense quickly. We have proven demand.

I like what Licher is doing with their brand. They have a balloon. They have a very nice online shop. (No sales outside of Germany, sadly.) They're sponsoring some sort of Festival in June. They of course have downloadable icons and sounds. (No, they aren't on Twitter yet.) I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they figure out how to get some of their fine product over here and really start raking in some cash. If anyone wants to help, we can start our own social media beer lobby and begin pressuring Licher to start moving on this. Or you can go to Licher's kontakt form and say "I'm hearing great things about Licher Bier. Why can't I have some in the US?"

Or maybe I'll just become a beer distributor. Cancel those as-yet-finalized negotiations, Margit. I can move this product for you.

Volvo Hater

bigness

Saw this car on the road this morning. If you can't read it through the rain, it says, "Ask me why I will never buy another Volvo." This guy also displayed a URL on the back of the vehicle: Orlando-Volvo.com. There, he offers testimony from other Volvo haters and a video (that doesn't load) of his Volvo "misbehaving." There are also a bunch of Google Adwords ads for extended auto warranties.

I suppose you could find a thousand people to write bad reviews about nearly anything, and this guy has been collecting them from all over the place regarding Volvos. Clearly, you can't please all of the people all of the time.

You really have to be a special person to drive this vehicle, and you really have to have been pissed off to pay the money to deck it out in this ridiculous red-yellow hate scheme. And to what end? How many will see this car and the accompanying site and forever avoid Volvos? Is Volvo aware? Are they doing anything for the guy? At what point does the brand say, "Screw it. Pay the guy off and fix his car, make him sign an agreement that he won't badmouth us anymore."? Or does the brand say, "Whack job. Forget about it." and plow on, ignoring an obviously pissed off former customer?

You Could Spend Your Life Listening to Gurus

So you just left SXSW and you're down in the dumps 'cause now you have to actually go to work and pretend to apply all the fascinating things you "learned" at the conference? Why bother going back to work? There's another conference going on right now in NYC! (And look! They used the tired old "silhouetted young business people doing business in a take charge, business-like way" image. BONUS: The take charge business-doers are reflected in the floor in a very serious Web 2.0 way.)

Your average social media guru has 15,000 followers on Twitter. (Thankfully, I'm not following them.) But he is, in short, a bullshit artist. He's got his hands in every new thing that comes around, but I don't think he could show you a single case study of how any of it has "worked" for a client. He was one of the first to tell everyone they needed a blog. And then corporate blogging failed. He was early on the podcast bandwagon. And then corporate podcasting failed. He thought everyone should create their own branded social networks, until it became obvious that not too many people wanted to join a brand's "community." Undeterred, he created numerous fake profiles and spent his days "seeding" comments on forums and blogs. His clients employ him for as long as it takes to uncover his game, or until his iron-clad three-month contract is over. He is adept at making himself look important and in another time he'd have been the perfect carpet-bagging seller of Dr. Swindle's Cure-All Tonic.

Now maybe there are some people out there selling social media consulting services who are actually telling clients stuff that their teenage kids couldn't tell them. Maybe there are "strategies" that aren't obvious to the average Joe, Jim, Khalid and Britte. (Actually, I can think of a couple of practitioners who are on the right path. They don't create the illusion of mystery and the're upfront with their audiences.)

Those of us who deride the consultants and their magic shows are branded "old-school" or "resistant." But I've seen nothing from the new school that warrants four conferences a month and a growing army of "experts."

There is no old vs new in this. It's just new packaging for an old product. The principles should remain the same: treat your potential customers with respect; make them laugh or tug their heart-strings as you're getting their attention; don't hide behind a bunch of fine print; and if they become customers and then complain, resolve their problem, refunding their purchase in full if need be.

Call it "the conversation" if you have to, but it's nothing more than old-school customer service.

You Can't Blame the Economy for This One

Bill Heard Chevrolet, the country's largest Chevy dealer, is done. The dealership issued the following statement as the reasons behind their demise: "...rising fuel prices, a product portfolio of mostly heavy trucks and sport utility vehicles, economic recession, unfavorable local market conditions for vehicle sales, the crisis in the banking and financing sectors."

Bullshit.

Before you read into this, "Oh, no! We're heading for a depression!" consider these facts, from The Orlando Sentinel's Steven Cole Smith.

• Bill Heard was the subject of 72 consumer complaints in the past 36 months, including 28 in the past year, according to records of the Better Business Bureau of Central Florida.
• A staff member at the Nashville, Tenn., Better Business Bureau was assigned full time to handle complaints against the local Heard dealership.
• GMAC Financial Services, General Motors' financial arm, refused to continue financing the inventory for some of Heard's stores.
• Heard has paid more than $280,000 in penalties and expenses in Georgia related to its trade practices and $183,000 in Tennessee.
• Florida regulators last year slapped a $400,000 fine on the Heard dealership in Sanford, and another in Plant City, for deceptive trade practices.

Said Automotive News Executive Editor Edward Lapham, "Heard has been a burr under GM's saddle for a long time."

Customer Service. It's so simple.

Here's the principle, sometimes referred to as the Golden Rule: "Treat others the way you want to be treated."

One less shady car dealer in this country won't be missed. What I will miss is one of Bill Heard's sales tools, a ridiculously enormous American flag flying along Interstate 4, seen here on Google's Street View and MSN's Bird's Eye View. This flag was so big it waved in slow motion.


And why is the Google Street View guy wearing a party hat and carrying balloons?

Defiant Grocery Chain Says, "Ignore The Facts! Shop Here!"

Despite the fact that Publix is buying half of what remain of Albertson's Florida stores, Albertson's persists with desperate flyers (or is that "fliers?") like this, where "Angela" poses happily with a bouquet of (funeral?) flowers and the copywriter has done everything except underline the word "still."


On a recent trip to a soon-to-be-closed Albertson's store, I encountered such poor service that I abandoned my goods in the cart in an aisle and burned rubber to the nearest Publix.

Good riddance, Albertson's. You could not suck more.

Cuttin' Slack for Good Customer Service

I called the garage where my car is being worked on today. It's been two days. They’re usually pretty prompt. Al answered the phone. He’s a nice guy with a thick accent that I can’t place, though it's somewhere in America’s Northeast. Al explained that it’d been a hectic day and they were “working on it.” Having a hectic day myself, I understood. In fact, I’ll bet our jobs aren’t much different, Al’s and mine. (And agencies love to call themselves "shops.")

When I think about it, my job now isn’t much different from many jobs. When I was a room service waiter at a resort in San Diego years ago, we’d arrive at 3 in the afternoon, get buried in work, help each other out, run around like mad dogs trying to keep ahead of the rush, find a brief lull where we caught our breath, then another rush, unexpected complaints and do-overs, solve problems, sneak a beer, (we had a friend in Purchasing who kept us stocked in iced-down Heineken) clean up the area, restock and shut the place down at 11:00 and go home. Same here, except for the sneak a beer part. Probably the same for Al at the garage. Or an emergency room surgeon. Or a Navy chaplain. An automotive designer. A Defense Department programmer. Elementary school janitor. OK, we're not saving lives or protecting the Pentagon's servers where I work, but you get the idea. We’re all keeping ahead of the rush, solving problems and going home.

At day's end Craig from the garage called me. "What's up?" I inquired cheerily, fully expecting the "Come pick up your car," notice. "I screwed up and ordered the wrong part," Craig said, "It won't be ready until tomorrow. But I thought I'd just give you the news upfront rather than beat around the bush."

Craig screwed up. He was honest about it. We're out of a car for another day. But we'll deal. And the same garage will get our business next time the car needs servicing. They always treat us fairly.

When we're straight with clients, even when we're late on a job due to our own screw-ups, we're likely to get some slack cut our way.

Someday I’m going to bring a case of beer, on ice, to Al, Craig and their crew.

We Interrupt This Broadcast

Usually all I do on this blog is make fun of stuff and bitch about things that suck. While that's fun, I'm going to change hats now and offer up genuine praise (again) for a brand that simply kicks ass. Publix Supermarkets.
This Florida-based, employee owned market has as its slogan, "Where shopping is a pleasure." While that is a pretty lame, old-school slogan, it is in fact true. Happy, helpful employees. Clean stores. Even their generic store-labeled products are creatively packaged. They do the best TV of any supermarket chain out there. Even their circulars in the Sunday paper are creative, and I throw those away instantly. "No matter," says Publix, "We keep them online for you." They even try to make their stores look cool. They don't cookie-cutter build them and rarely will you see the same architecture.

I may be blinded by the fact that I just discovered a sushi vendor at a local Publix who simply blows the doors off those uncaring sushi slobs at my local Albertson's. I would follow this lady on tour if she took her act on the road. Restaurant grade. Premium. Inventive. And she smiles and offers a genuine "thank you" when you snatch up her creations.

I may never have to shop at Albertson's again.

Grab Can, Lift Arm, Stack Can, Turn Around

In this area, there are basically two options for grocery shopping (three if you count Winn-Dixie, but nobody counts Winn-Dixie anymore, as they are dying a slow and painful death). We've got Publix and Albertson's.

The local Albertson's has a "fresh" fish counter in the back that tends to make the entire store smell like something rotting, the always rotating employees and managers are generally in bad moods, and they keep rearranging the aisles so no one can find anything.

By comparison, the local Publix is a veritable Disneyland. It's clean, the employees this week are the same ones from last month, and they always seem to be in good moods. The only area where Albertson's trumps Publix (locally, anyway) is fresh sushi, which I will go to Albertson's for when the sushi jones kicks in.

I'm pretty sure what makes Publix the better store is that Publix is employee owned. These people have a stake and therefore, they care.

It might also be the music. I think they just switched their music, or the manager's away for the holiday and the employees are having fun. Used to be all you'd hear were 70s classics from the likes of Carly Simon, Billy Joel and Gladys Knight. On a recent trip I heard Big Audio Dynamite and U2. Then yesterday it was Billy Idol and Joe Jackson. If I say, "Supermarket music," your top-of-mind song isn't going to be "Look Sharp."

And damnit if I didn't find myself, like a sucker, enjoying it. I have become the targeted demo supermarket shopper.

Previously in Supermarket Marketing:
Don't Wander From Your Brat as He Dances in the Cart