Research

Tales of Ales and Tails

On a recent trip Stateside, I got a real flavour of one of the retailer’s major dilemmas. The store was a large Publix on the Gulf Coast of Florida – certainly as big as a large UK supermarket. As always, I was spending more time looking for stimulus for work than actually doing the food shopping … and then I turned down the beer aisle. Now, my figures will be slightly out but close enough to be both defensible and illustrative. In the US, the market has two major brewing players – Anheuser Busch Inbev and Miller Coors who control about 80 – 85% of the market’s supply. And then there are the craft brewers, alliances of craft brewers and speciality importers.

Yes, craft beer is likely to be more profitable on a unit basis than big beer, but to command well over 50% of the space? Commercial craziness, no?

That’s the dilemma for the retailer, particularly if you are mainstream / mid-market. How do you optimise your range and space and how the hell do you decide which brands to back, to underspace, to overspace?

Going back to craft beer (or increasingly snacks, spirits, bread, cheese…) it would be easy to argue both sides. For the big boys, it would go something like this: ‘Hey, you’re crazy. I know there’s all this craft beer hype, but just look at the rate of sale and the market share… and times that by the price we command… you should be overspacing us not underspacing us!’. If you’re a craft brewer, equally, you could say, ‘Consumers are tired and dissatisfied with the same old beer choice. They’re individuals not ‘consumers’ and a craft beer range caters to them, shows that you are a specialist and ….well, look at the profitability’.

There’s no right or wrong here, but there seem to be some common denominators.

How appealing is the category: craft beer is over faced because consumers care; it is increasing in both household penetration, frequency and basket size. Authentic beers, with interesting stories are cutting through with shoppers when all big beers can offer in return are new can sizes or bottle shapes. Essentially, research is showing that when a category can drag shoppers off their habitual shopping trajectory, then it’s worth backing.

Brands count: craft beer in the US isn’t stocked out with hopeless chancers. There are strong emerging brands. Brands that are working either because they are genuinely different (say, Dogfish Head), local (say Cigar City Brewing from Tampa) or frankly growing in fame and appeal (say Sierra Nevada, Stone Brewing, Sam Adams, The Bruery). Over in the UK, with Tesco for one aiming the gun at these long tails, it’s the categories where no brands exist, where own label can do as good as, if not better job than the branded alternative where attention is needed.

Principles matter: many of the craft brands in the US have managed to grow in value off the back of their founding principles, principles which they have stayed true to. Jim Koch of Boston Beer is a divisive character because he unapologetically popularised craft beer by owning the agenda, by being in the face of big beer owners and drinkers. ‘Here is a better choice’ he would say, when not dunking himself in vats of Boston Beer. But equally, Fritz Maytag saved Anchor; Keith Grossman built up Sierra Nevada on the back of kit he beat into shape with old ball hammers and welding kit. All of them wanted to drink better beer, so they did something about it. Brands of conviction, attract.

The competitive space is changing: in Chris Anderson’s book, ‘The Long Tail’*, he talks about how retailing will change because of the impact of the internet. Look at Amazon: online bookshop becomes frankly, anything they can sell that they can store and transport; no stores, no range reviews, no square footage to overly worry about. Want a rare Dutch flower arranging book (yes, Mum, I’m referring to you), they’ll get it. As consumers we understand that that might not be the case for a Sainsbury’s or an Asda or a Tesco – but for how long. Internet retailing allows us not to worry about big brands, the Number 1s and 2s, but any brand that takes our fancy. Until food retailers abandon their mega sheds, any strategy will be a compromise – we’ve got a big range, but…..

Interestingly it seems to open up opportunities at both ends. At the ‘endless choice’ end of retail will be the likes of Amazon; at the other, quite insightfully, will be the focused retailers who recognise that as shoppers our brains can only handle so much choice. Reduce the range, reduce the choice, watch sales grow: take Lidl or Screwfix.

And so it turns out, that was my dilemma. Standing in front of this amazing beer fixture; looking at all the choices, reading labels, thinking ‘Oooh, I’ve never had that..’ but totally unable to make up my mind.

*Chris Anderson, ‘The Long Tail’, Hyperion, 2006

David Preston is founder of The Crow Flies, a research, strategy and innovation company that discovers the direct route to success for categories, companies and brands. david@thecrowflies.co.uk; +44 (0) 1889 725670.

What we can learn from American public toilets

Let’s start with terminology, given that the readership for this post may not be British, as the writer is. This post is about public toilets. Loos. Lavvies. Public WCs (Water Closets). Public Conveniences. Restrooms. I clarify this, just in case ‘toilets’ could get confused with ‘Eau de Cologne’, and that ‘Public’ means ‘free for anyone to use’ as opposed to say, a public school.

Now, why, oh why, is the topic of public toilets in any way a viable, informative and interesting topic for a business blog, for Linked In?

Well, let me take you back. During my University years, I worked in a motorway (Interstate) service station during my holidays (vacations). Mainly, I worked in the café, clearing tables, serving cups of tea, griddling sausages, or behind the scenes operating the huge conveyor belt dishwasher, or occasionally prepping food. What I didn’t have to do, fortunately, was have anything to do with the toilets. Goodness knows, the company, Road Chef, spent a lot of time, effort and money looking after those toilets. There was a lovely lady called Gwen who’s job it was to watch over them. I’d like to say as a result of this that they were spotless. But they weren’t. In fact, they were terrible, awful, godforsaken, Damnable Cesspits. It was deeply depressing, to put yourself in the shoes of people who thought it was perfectly OK to:

drill holes in the cubicles so they could spy on you
graffiti the walls with lewd advertisements, like a XXX Classified Ads board
smear excrement over the seats (I kid you not)
urinate up the walls (again, I kid you not)
and leave the damn seat lid up (I know, I know)

I’m sure there must be some deep psychological study of why this is the case; why people, many of whom must be scrupulously clean and polite in their own space, are so happy and willing to vandalise and brutalise a public space – and worse, leave it for Gwen to clean up. But that’s not the topic for here.

Let’s just say that as a result of this experience, I keep an eye out on the quality of the toilets: and I’ve been, over many years, watching the responses to this behaviour, which is far from isolated – in fact, sad to say it is commonplace. In high traffic areas, the response has been attendants and barriers, paying for the privilege, keeping an eye out for miscreants (railway stations are a good example). Most places however can’t go this far. Here, more typically, one can expect to see sheet steel bolted to the inside of the cubicle. It doesn’t stop the vandalism, but it makes it more difficult to drill through and a bit noisier too. Anti-graffiti paints are also used. Many establishments also reduce the number of cubicles – fewer spaces, longer queues, easier to control. And of course, there are the plethora of tick lists reminding users that ‘this toilet is regularly cleaned’ or ‘this toilet was last checked at 10.05am’. In all, it’s a terrible waste of time and energy just to try and control bad and unhygienic behaviour.

A few weeks ago I was in the U.S. And yet again, in my international toilet ponderings, I was reminded of something, which, to a Brit at least has always seemed odd. U.S. toilets have two strange features. Firstly, they have ruddy great gaps around the doors (see picture – look, it could have been worse). And secondly, the cubicle walls start a foot off the ground. Handy for inspecting the shoes and socks of your neighbour should you wish (knitwear alert chaps). And there’s no graffiti.

Now, that’s a sweeping statement. So let me qualify it slightly. In every public restroom that I have visited in the U.S. there has rarely been any graffiti and in my recent 16 day visit, there was none.

What we have here is, unwittingly or not, a great example of behavioural science in action.

Because the features of the cubicles – large gaps in effect – have a curious impact on how we behave in this public space. Think about it: a fully enclosed space is as private as being at home, but without the consequences. If you want to give in to your darkest perversions, you can and someone else will wield the mop. But in the ‘gappy’ U.S. toilets, another voice is introduced into your mental dialogue. The gaps around the door are about ⅓ inch, 0.8cm wide*. In truth, you can’t be seen – but you can see people passing outside; you can detect and support that someone is waiting. It is no longer a private space even though you can’t (really) be seen.

And floor gaps are interesting too – because these are big. Should you want to chat face to face to your neighbour, you could kneel down and pop your head underneath**. You could certainly pass, say, a bag underneath. But here’s the thing. From the outside, you can see that someone’s in there. And they can see that you’re outside. And so, your mental dialogue changes again: ‘what will they think I’m doing unless my feet are facing forward and my trousers are down?’***

Feeling uncomfortable? That’s what’s going on though. These are, to use the behavioural terminology, nudges that persuade us to think – and crucially act – differently.

*I would like to point out that I haven’t measured this. That would be concerning.

** No, I haven’t before you ask, and that’s the truth.

***Goodness, there’s a quote that could be taken out of context.

David Preston is founder of The Crow Flies, a research, strategy and innovation company that helps brands find a direct route to long lasting success. david@thecrowflies.co.uk; +44 (0) 1889 725670; www.thecrowflies.co.uk; @crowflieshigh.

Crow Chronicle, Spring 2015 – Research Special

Crow Chronicle Spring 2015

Inspire me

Recently I was running research investigating brand positioning. It’s the sort of work where the words used a really important – there weren’t any additional pictures for context or stimulus. Just the words. And one word used was inspiring. This particular brand, which we shall say for confidentiality’s sake is a fictitious cake mix brand, was promising to inspire people.

One of the participants in the group was colourful in every sense: engaging, bright, interested; and sporting a roughly-woven kaftan and had a shock of red hair. And she took particular umbrage to a promise of being inspired. “It’s a cake mix for heaven’s sake”, she said. “It can’t inspire me. Getting clean water to villages in Africa, yes. Helping find cures for cancer, I get it. But cake mix…. no.”

The next thing she said (once she’d calmed down a bit) was the really interesting bit though.

“What they should do is tell me how to use it”.

“It’s a cake mix”, I said, risking coming over as extremely dumb.

“I know…” she replied, elongating the vowel a bit and in so doing confirming her view that yes, I am dumb, “but what they don’t do is tell me how I can really use it”.

She elaborated. Sure, it’s a cake mix and yes, you’d expect to find it in the cake mix aisle, but ultimately it’s some flour and raising agent. What else could it be used for? How quickly can I make a cake with this versus making one from scratch? Is it less messy? Are there any healthier elements? Are the cakes lighter? Can it be used for Yorkshire puddings? Or to make trifle sponges? Is it great for young cake makers? Or what about cupcakes? Or cake pops?

Essentially, this lady was telling me that she was willing to be sold to, providing the communication was adding value to her life. Show me how to use it. Give me a few handy tips for this product. Sell me the benefits and perhaps help me feel like a better mum. Help my kids make the first steps into baking and a little early independence and self-esteem.

And it struck me that typically this sort of thing is ‘back of pack’. The ‘filler’ that, well, fills the space next to the barcode, twitter handle and ingredients. But maybe brands need to invert their thinking a bit and show that they really understand their consumers and are committed to helping them – rather than just give it lip service. Make the back of pack, front of pack a bit more.

But of course, what she was really saying was: ‘inspire me’.

Mining for confusion

It was a point of real frustration, what psychologists call a ‘trigger point’. A client pushing for ever deeper insights. “We need to mine for them, reveal the hidden beliefs and the unconscious needs”, she said.

“But what about all the blindingly observations and truths about your consumer? The ones you already have and have been consistently ignoring for the past two years?”, I retorted, in my head.

The conversation rolled on: how research moderators let their own biases or poor questioning distance themselves from the real truth, failing to uncover the deeper needs. They would prove to be the key that unlocks the door to future prosperity, apparently.

Yet here was a business posting mid single digit volume and profit declines with unrelenting consistency, with fragile to no brand momentum and struggling to create a meaningful vision, a meaningful agenda for their categories. And they want to dig deeper?

A related story. I was once involved in an Ethnographic research project when ethnography was the ‘new news’. A drinks client, dissatisfied with existing research techniques and wanting to be at the bleeding edge to discover deeper, more profound insights. £140,000 later and what we in fact discover is that what consumers really look for in this particular type of (cold) drink…. is that it’s always chilled. Bleeding edge? Bleeding something, right enough. Here was a business that wanted to distract itself from the hard work of doing the basics brilliantly – right outlets, right experience; right serve – to chase the fancy dream of a White Knight in Shining Armour*

Understanding of your target market can come from all sorts of directions – not just down.

I mean, yes, it is possible to find unconscious needs: through gaming or role-playing, through well purposed ethnography and longitudinal studies, through metaphor and story telling. There are ways. But the question at the end of it all is: will it be usable by my brand? Will I be able to plan stuff off it that builds my brand? All too often, seemingly profound ‘insights’ are unusable, and therefore of no value.

Me? I like shrewd observation. I like accompanying harassed parents as they go shopping with their kids, or chatting to a Grandmum about the pressures of feeding their grandchildren ‘the right things’ in the short window of opportunity between nursery finishing and Mum getting home to check. Or talking to a Big Issue seller about their journey from homelessness, from being bereft of hope and opportunity, to seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Of sitting alongside someone sifting through their e-mails and all the requests to give or buy. Or the businessman in a forecourt shop balancing a wallet and loyalty card in one hand, with his keys and a bottle of pop in the other, whilst the Assistant asks him if he would like to fill in a customer survey to win a Grand.

And I like collision. Of throwing the observations together. Of seeing what crashes out of the carnage. Of seeing where the ensuing conversation reveals about what we really think, truly believe. The juxtaposition does this: ‘you may think I’m a bit well, weird, behaving like this…but look at them, they use twigs’. Of feeling the energy that arises when apparently conflicting ideas are forced together.

And challenging beliefs. To feel the nervous energy as someone realises that their belief is more of a doctrine and really isn’t supported by fact. But hell, they’re going to believe it anyway and what are you going to do it about Mr Researcher?

Getting real insights is like active listening. Proper listening is hard. To switch off (or at least turn the volume right down) of the voice in your head, and concentrating on what the other person is saying. Of checking their meaning, not challenging. Of listening to the words, not developing counter arguments. Getting real insight is like that: it’s like being a detective or policeman. You’re looking for the things that aren’t said, that aren’t done as well as those things that are. It’s about setting up hypotheses and working through them. And when you’ve found the cause, prosecuting the hell out of it.

Because more than anything else, a good insight is only ‘good’ if it is usable by your brand or your company. If it allows you to do and plan something, not just now, but for a few years at least. How ever you find your insight, if you can’t act on it, or are not willing to, save your time and your money and do something else.

*The armour has to shine, not sure why.

**I don’t, you’re quite normal, trust me

David Preston is founder of The Crow Flies, a research, strategy and innovation company that discovers and maps the direct route to success for categories and brands. david@thecrowflies.co.uk; +44 (0) 1889 725670

Points of Difference, Points of Parity

Maybe the Tesco strategic review will spark a little sanity back into food and drink retail in general. The implications are already filtering through with many suppliers, selling products and brands close to the retailers’ specified ‘hurdle rate’, renegotiating furiously. Truth is, it feels like a cycle of normalisation and making things simpler for shopper and retailer alike will most likely turn out to be a good thing.

But brands have got to survive in the short term, and it feels like a good time to be really looking hard at how your brand is positioned. True, it may feel like a ‘Unique Selling Proposition 101’ but the reality of shopping the supermarkets is that most (shall we settle on 90%? 95%?) products sold are ‘me-toos’, forced to differentiate on price alone, copying the livery of the leader and hoping that shoppers make rational, price based decisions alone. For those retailers where price is their positioning, that’s fine: Asda, Aldi, Lidl – let them fight it out and may the best retailer win. But for the others, price is a reassurance, an important part of the mix but not the most important. It is a point of parity not difference.

And this seems to be where the confusion lies, particularly in food retail. Morrisons, in what has been deemed to be a disastrous Christmas trading period, bin their CEO and, in the short term at least, resort to price cuts. Sainsbury’s after a better, but still soft, Christmas trading period do the same*. Tesco hit the nuclear button and do the same**, and in the parlance of an American friend of mine, ‘execute the hell out of it’, with national TV and in-your-face point of sale in store. Even Asda, who had a better time over Christmas, have decided that it will only get worse, and bin*** the senior bods in their marketing team.

But, for all but Asda, this isn’t the winning strategy. At least, not without a fundamental restructuring of what they do, how they do it and who they are – and then, what’s the end result? You become Aldi.

Points of parity can be winning strategies but they require unwavering focus and unrelenting discipline to stay on track. Asda have this. They understand that price is a point of parity and they own it with every ounce of their being. All their activity underlines the point that they are cheaper, even if this is just pricing their diesel at £106.7 vs £106.9 elsewhere. (One day I shall buy one litre and see if they force me to round up or down). They lead on price too – being the first retailer to make a Price Promise, to roll back, to launch a price guarantee (in recent times at least). They’ll be ‘Doubling Down’ on price too – you just watch this space.

Currently, it seems that price is the only promise that matters. But other points of parity can be owned and can be used to win. Take service: Tesco proved that you can win with it, to wit, Every Little Helps. The trouble was, they confused it over time with choice and suddenly their business became riddled with ferocious complexity. Sainsbury’s for many years owned quality, another point of parity, but slowly it has been denuded by time, confused focus and competition.

Now is the time to hunt for genuine, ownable points of difference in retail: ownable by the brand, not just the category. John Lewis is a case in point. If you took their signoff line, the beautiful ‘Never knowingly undersold’ you could conclude that their positioning is price: they offer a guarantee after all. But of course, John Lewis is so much more than this as the line subtly implies. Ultimately, they offer reassurance – of quality, value, service and taste. B&Q is fascinating too: their website was clever domain buying and clever attitudinally too: diy.com / do it yourself. So whilst Wickes own a grittier, trade feel, B&Q own both the point of parity and the liberating attitude of DIY.

Perhaps food and drink retailing is tougher. But Waitrose seem to do it. In the parlance of the common man, they own posh nosh. And then they reassure that you won’t get stitched up through initiatives like their Essentials range, just in case you were wavering. And northern retailer Booths, which many refer to as ‘the northern Waitrose’ are developing a much more specific positioning around regional quality. Defensible? Well they can both be copied, but they can be owned too, and that is where the effort is focused.

Ironically, Tesco, Sainsbury’s and Morrisons have an enormous opportunity. They are in the middle of the market, and whilst that is giving them some short term pain, it also offers them the opportunity to build a differentiating position for most people most of the time. Time will tell if they have the foresight to find it and the bravery to grasp it.

* Without binning their CEO
**Nor them
**Technical term: keep up

Expectation Gap

Sainsbury’s results last week seem to be more evidence that the food retailing bigwigs are feeling the pressure to change their paradigm. Netto entering into a joint venture with Sainsbury’s themselves; the continued growth of Aldi and Lidl, both through expansion and new sites and organic growth – attracting those ‘middle ground’ shoppers who traditionally would go to solely one of the big 4. The day after their results, Sainsbury’s announce that because it’s getting tough out there, they will invest a further £150m in price discounts: £150m lost in the fight to defend their distinctiveness, their differentiation.

Of course the price we pay for our food is a major concern. But moving retail strategies towards a price orientation demonstrates the lack of confidence leaders have in their brands – and shines a light on the real problem that needs fixing.

The experience a retailer offers is part of their customer’s value equation, even if research reports say otherwise. Take dairy: this is a category full of rich and evocative pastoral images. In a recent project, we built a mental collage with consumers of what dairy meant to them. Here was the picture that was constructed: standing at the top of a verdant green hill, the leaves of an oak tree overhanging, you look down into the gentle ‘V’ of interlocking hills and there, nestled in the distance is a farmhouse, with smoke gently drifting up from its log fire. A farmer slowly chugs across a field into a vintage tractor, and cows, ready for milking, amble through the farmyard. The farmer’s wife calls to her children who are catching butterflies in a nearby field.

Utter fantasy of course, yet…not. Consumers think of dairy as full of goodness, heavenly food in fact, enjoyable eating, reminding them of good times and nutritious. Yes, they are aware of the high fat content and equally aware they shouldn’t over indulge, but these concerns are not sufficient to impact negatively on their positive dairy world-view.

Look at dairy in retail though: it couldn’t be more different. White packs, plastic and shrink wrap packaging everywhere, glaring red POS pronouncing BOGOFs and price slashes, all cheddar beiges, and goats-milk whites. This is a shopping experience that, rather than being full of warmth and happiness, is emotionally and physically cold. This is a shopping experience where the potential of premium pricing through premium experience is lost.

In fact, this is a shopping experience typical of where food retail is heading; it’s happening throughout the major supermarkets as they wrestle with the no frills approach of the discounters. In turn, the retailers pressure their suppliers for a category growth agenda because they don’t know what to do. The truth is, to not understand how the brand or category exists in the consumers minds is a major risk – commoditising the shopping experience puts you at peril. It is no surprise that at the premium end of the market the retailers are more confident in their approach. Waitrose is the oft cited example, but another, smaller retailer embodies this consumer understanding more than most. Up in the north, with stores in places like Milnthorpe and Garstang, you possibly wouldn’t expect a retailer to be thriving with this approach, but Booths is.

I recently went to their Windermere store in the old railway station and it was a delight. This isn’t just a retailer who operates the hackneyed old stereotypes like ‘get fresh near the front’ or wafting the smells of fresh bread throughout. It does these things of course, but with thought and panache. Artisan breads were laid out on a table, with short descriptions of what they contained, how they were baked, what they’re good with. The delicatessen didn’t just feature bowls of olives but also great northern standards – a pie range to die for, more sausages you could shake a pig at, it catered for everyone not just middle class Mediterranean-diet wannabes. Beer wasn’t laid out by type, but by region, with a big focus on local. Local suppliers were the hero everywhere in fact – Goosnargh Ducks, Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire Cheese and inevitably crafty crisps featured with point of sale showing, who made them, where, when and why. This was a food retail experience much closer to being romanced like in a luxury car showroom, the Apple Store or a great bookstore. This was a retail experience where more clearly than any other there seemed to be a partnership between supplier and store. And oh, look, they’re doing very nicely thank you.

Commoditising price is one thing, but commoditising experience? Well, that’s a trap you’ll never get out of.

David Preston is founder of The Crow Flies, a research, strategy and innovation company that works with shoppers and consumers to help brands find a direct route to long lasting success. david@thecrowflies.co.uk; +44 (0) 1889 725670; www.thecrowflies.co.uk; @crowflieshigh.

Pathways and Holloways

There’s a pathway opposite my house that starts constrained on either side by two rather unruly hawthorn hedges and low cropped horse chestnut trees, before passing through a dilapidated five bar gate worn smooth by the daily administering of hands of walkers and horse riders over passing years. From there the pathway cuts across open fields for a good half mile towards a distant stand of trees along a low ridge. The field is quite open, no hedges, no obstructions. Yet the footpath meanders this way and that, suddenly curving through 45° and then heading back; at one point cutting up a half-bank when the natural lie of the land is straight on. The remarkable fact is that the walkers, me included, stick to the path. It is worn low, trampled and yellowed; either side, the spiky grass is tussocky and verdant.

At the top of the low ridge, the path heads through the trees, the presence of which confines it, narrows it. The energy of boot clad feet, dogs’ paws and horses’ hooves has turned the path into more of an old holloway, making the path cut down and deeper, the trees rising up high above, their roots exposed, holding back the banks. This path must have developed over hundreds of years; generations of feet tramping slowly exposing the bedrock. If you wished to deviate off this, it would be hard to do so.

Pathways and holloways are a good way of thinking about the impact of your brand building efforts. Brain ‘theory’ for want of a better expression, developing over the last 30 to 50 years, has added scientific uumph to the intuition many experienced marketeers have felt about the impact (or otherwise) of their brand activities on successfully changing consumer behaviour.

Our brains, metaphorically, are the landscape. Billions of neurons, connected to one another by synaptic nerves fire up and make connections as they receive ‘stimulus’; a process that starts from our first moments on the planet. The stimulus is everything we encounter – everything. So within this maelstrom of over communication the brand must cut through and compete. The good news is that in many respects brains are on our side. Over communication too, plays into the brand builder’s hands. Why? Because we need to make sense of things to run our lives. The brain does this by creating ‘pathways in the landscape’. Think about your journey to work; most of us have hundreds of possibilities: the mode of transport; the route; the time we are happy to dedicate to it; whether we need to stop for breakfast / snack en route; whether we need fuel… yet we tend to stick to the same route; because it’s easy and frankly, we’ve got enough other things to worry about. So our brains effectively create a pathway, which as we use it again and again, gets deeper and deeper, becomes engrained, becomes a holloway.

The holloway, from a brand perspective is the desired goal: just like my real life Holloway through the trees, deviation becomes difficult. In fact, research shows that once a deep path like this is created, the brain wants to use it. It was, if you like, the creator of the holloway and it wants to see it continue to thrive. A real life brand example: moons ago, I worked in beer competing with the mighty Stella Artois. Our brand was the first to launch a full scale branded glassware programme, the objective to heighten the drinking experience of the brand. Stella cottoned on quickly and responded with enormous scale; but it also responded with a glass, which at the time, we thought was horrendous. Made from jam jar glass, it was blow moulded and had indistinct, partially embossed branding. Shabby, we thought compared with our lovely screen printed vessel. But here’s the thing: Stella Artois had a holloway of purchase behaviour established. Their consumers didn’t see jam jar glass, they saw a thing of beauty. ‘Why! It must be incredible, it’s from Stella, and that’s my brand.’ If you want to break the habit created by the holloway, you need to do something pretty bold and stupendous (think Gerald Ratner describing his products as ‘crap’. That should do it).

Which is all very well, the question is how to create a pathway and a holloway in the mind of your consumer’s brain? The answer is both beguiling simple and deviously tricky: focus and sacrifice. You need to find your distinctive positioning and stick to it. You need to execute one, perhaps two, activities each year. You need to put your full weight against them. You need to repeat and repeat and repeat with unyielding consistency, patience and resistance to personal or corporate boredom.

Beguilingly simple; deviously tricky. But worth it to create those holloways in the brain.

For other blogs from David, please go to www.thecrowflies.co.uk/crowblog

A brand lesson from the Referendum

It’s instructive to consider last week’s momentous political event in the UK, the Scottish Referendum, without getting all political because therein lies a valuable lesson for anyone building their business or building their brand.

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to make the proclamation that a ‘no’ vote was on the cards all along. Yet actually, albeit for different reasons, a ‘no’ vote was on the cards all along.

Why? Because we are all inherently conservative.

And to reiterate, that’s conservative in a sense without the baggage of that particular Party. No, we become deeply conservative from the moment we are born, even the most radical of us, even those of us most ardent for the cause of change.

A contradication? No.

The roots of our conservatism lie in the way our brains shape and respond to the billions of stimuli we receive each moment from the time we are born. Practically, we have to deal with thousands of pieces of data each day: most, so insignificant that we deal with them on ‘autopilot’; others requiring consideration, concentration, greater thought, our ‘rational’ minds. Yet, the data we deem insignificant today was once significant in our lives. ‘How do I get from here to there?’ ‘I need to learn to lift myself up and move forward, one foot in front of the other’. Walking? No thought today. Not the same when you were 1 year old.

We spend our lives dealing with the data, learning ways of thinking and doing, making decisions. Think of these actions like hundreds of thousands of algorithms or macros designed to help us operate efficiently. Macros that whirr in the background, letting us concentrate on the ‘big stuff’.

These macros become pathways in our brains: well trodden paths that make navigating through life easier. As we re-tread the paths, so they become deeper and more ingrained; so we become more likely to take that path that we have created: why use someone else’s route when I have my own (and it’s better!)? We become, in the brain theory parlance, anchored to beliefs and behaviours. We become inherently conservative around the beliefs and behaviours that we create and learn.

Which is why the apparent contradiction isn’t really so. If you are brought up or become a radical thinker, then you will become anchored to being radical. It will become your modus operandi. You will, perversely, become conservatively attached to the idea of being radical. The pathways in your brain will support the very notion.

Indeed, these ways of operating and thinking seem ordered and perfectly rational to us, but to someone else may look bonkers (so many examples are beautifully brought to life in Dan Ariely’s ‘Predictably Irrational’ –it’s worth looking up). These little ticks or biases become part of us: some will be highly individual; others become common across groups or people, even across societies. Ways of believing; ways of thinking; opinions, perceptions, culture. This is what the Prime Minister’s ‘Nudge Unit’ was designed to understand and influence: the belief (which in many cases was proven) was that if you can understand the way people have learnt how to behave then you can nudge it. Look out for example for the life size cut out Policemen in petrol stations. There is evidence of Mr Cardboard Policeman reducing shoplifting by 75%*

So with the referendum, the Yes Campaign had to overcome the trillions of billions of mental pathways that have got used to living their lives in the Scotland they knew. It’s not to say it wasn’t insurmountable but you would have to ‘Drop a Bomb in the Water’ as a famous Scottish ad agency Creative Director once said to me. They nearly did, just not big enough.

And so too with brands: it’s no good bandying around grand promises of ‘re positioning’ a brand without understanding the depth and strength of the mental pathways around it. Millions of Pounds of advertising revenue have gone into building Beanz Meanz Heinz or Work Rest and Play. If you walk away from associations like that you need a big wallet and a long term perspective. Successful repositioning? My money would be on a ‘No’.

*In Asda, Leigh, Lancs, 2010.

The pot of gold at the other end of the rainbow

My eye was recently attracted to a piece in Marketing Week from Waitrose Chairman, Mark Price, reportage from a talk he gave in Swindon on 2nd May. Its essence: we will do the opposite of what everyone else is doing. There was also the pleasing symmetry that a food retailer has the surname ‘Price’, presumably the same phenomenon as dog owners resembling their pets. Waitrose don’t seem on the surface a particularly contrary business. Indeed, you could argue with some strong justification that they reflect middle class aspiration in all its forms. Yet this simple statement, ‘do the opposite of what everyone else is doing’ reveals a maverick streak – and a great marketing lesson. A couple in fact.

The first?

The importance of zagging. This isn’t just ‘do the opposite for the sake of it’; rather, there is a natural human instinctive to follow. It’s the opposite of what people say they will do – as Monty Python beautifully summarised it, “we’re all individuals” – but of course, we’re not. There’s a host of reasons why we want to follow: the need or desire to fit it; a way of building connections with others; to give us a sense of group security. And because brands or companies are the product of human actions, so it follows that companies tend to follow too. ‘Me too’ products are aptly named – indeed, you could argue that (until recently) many Asian markets have built their entire economies on fast following – and done it blummin’ well. Let’s go back to Waitrose. Specifically, Mr Price’s comment was in regard to how the company he stewards is dealing with the threat of the Discounters, Aldi & Lidl in particular. He continued that Waitrose’s aim is to be everything that the discounters aren’t through a focus on service, range and making coming to its stores an experience. Contrast this with the Tesco response – also reported in Marketing Week: launching ‘pound zones’, areas of the supermarket that will offer non-food categories such as health and beauty and pet items for as little as 50p (‘Pound Zone’ presumably being snappier than ‘Half Pound Zone’?*).

Actually, Tesco have got a tougher job: sitting in the middle of the market, being the biggest retailer in the UK, they are a source of business for everyone. So they clearly feel they have to compete. Yet Waitrose are competing by looking not at what their competitor is doing but by what they’re not doing. They are zagging when everyone else is zigging. It’s tough to do; it requires total alignment but it can mark you out as distinctive and therefore, more memorable to you customers.

And they also illustrate the second lesson.

They’re competing on their terms. To half refrain: they’re competing by looking not at what their competitor is doing but at what they can’t do. This is simple brand positioning at it’s best: you take the core thought that you are trying to own in the mind of your target and ruthlessly implement it. Waitrose is not a discounter therefore it responds with enhanced service offer, promotions for its customers and enhanced benefits for MyWaitrose card holders. At the other end of the price:service spectrum you have Aldi & Lidl. Reduced ranges, functional stores, little in the way of customer service add-ons: basic and to the point. Yet just as well positioned.

Which illustrates the issue that Tesco are facing. It’s not that they’re big: there are plenty of significantly bigger companies who continue to grow strongly. No, their issue lies in the notion of every little helps. It seems they are trying to do everything to help. If they’re to return to the path to growth, they need to get back to doing Tesco things that help.

(*Which reminds me of a family friend who when she first went round ‘Poundland’ kept on asking in a slightly astonished voice, ‘How much is it?’. “£1 Jane” came the repetitive response. “That’s why it’s called Poundland”. She’d have been much more comfortable with Tesco’s counter-intuitive Pound pricing strategy.)

David Preston is founder of The Crow Flies, a research, strategy and innovation company that finds the direct route to success for categories and brands. To find out more about how The Crow Flies could help you, just wing over an e mail to david@thecrowflies.co.uk or call on +44 (0) 7885 408367. You can follow The Crow Flies on Linked In (http://www.linkedin.com/company/the-crow-flies-ltd?trk=company_name), on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/thecrowfliesltd). Twitter, you can caw us at @crowflieshigh. Or just send a carrier pigeon and we’ll intercept mid-air.