Net Cotton Content / On Life and Marketing, Creativity and Ethics

Come and get 'em

I don't like thinking that I'm selling tickets to my own show.

I am, of course, selling tickets to my own show, but I don't like thinking that. It seems too self-absorbed, even for me.

Sure, we're all self-absorbed, up to a point. But when that point is the point of selling tickets? Well, that's pretty far gone in my book.

So I keep telling myself, "This whole show was my idea. In for a dime, in for a dollar. I must make sure that the rest of the cast sees a full enough house for each show. So I'd better sell some tickets."

Yes, I'm selling tickets. But it's not for a celebration of me. It's a loving and ethical effort to benefit the rest of the cast.

Yeah. Right. Sure.

I mean, really. I have friends and family coming across the country to see this show. I didn't ask them to come. It's terribly inconvenient for them.

And some folks are actually sponsoring the show. They reacted to my passive-aggressive solicitation by offering money. Egad.

I do appreciate their financial and geographic generosity, and — it's true — I'd rather they come see Our Town (June 26-29) than come, eventually, to my funeral (date TBD). After all, we need the ticket revenue to pay for the extraordinary scenery. And my life insurance should cover my funeral. (Note to survivors: no tickets for my funeral.)

What I'm Learning When I Sell Tickets
It's said that my people are the people who can't take "yes" for an answer. Well, I'm having trouble taking "yes" for an answer.

When someone says, "I'll take one," or "I've already bought a ticket on the web," I have the same immediate silent reaction:

No. No! Don't come to the show. Don't call my bluff. I don't know my lines well enough for you to actually come to the show.

Inconveniently, I'm not good at taking "no" for an answer either.

If they do not say, immediately, "I'll take one," or "I've already bought a ticket on the web," I have the an equally inappropriate, immediate silent reaction:

What do you mean, you don't want a ticket? What, are you too busy to come see this show? Are you not ready for theatre? Is that the evening you are sitting in a chair covered in tortilla chips watching NASCAR?

These reactions might be silent, but any readers of eyebrows will know my heart and mind at a glance.

These Tickets Must Go
So I'm selling.

Alisa and I went to a lovely dinner party last night. Beforehand, getting dressed, I filled my pockets with tickets and fliers and pens and money to make change.

I was a walking Box Office. How tacky.

I was a Home Box Office, but in someone else's home. That ain't right.

At the party, of course, talk often turned to the upcoming play. The publicity has been strong. I didn't have to be the kind of bore that brings up his own play.

No, I am now merely the kind of bore that, once someone else mentions my play, I offer the tickets sticking out of my shirt pocket. And I tell the story of my motivation every time an additional person walks up.

I wasn't at the party to sell tickets. I was there to be among friends and to say farewell to a beloved couple that is leaving Columbus.

But it's frustrating to have people ask, "That sounds great. How do I buy tickets?" and all I can do is suggest they go to the website after they get home. I much prefer to say, "I have some tickets right here."

So I was packin.'

I sold 15 tickets at a party of 50 people. That's a 30% yield. Pretty good, especially because half the people there had already bought tickets.

Ticket sales this strong make me wonder where I'm going to move my family when the show closes.

Or if I might enjoy running for mayor of Columbus.

A Question I'm Trying To Avoid
Fifteen days from now, on June 30th, a bright, sunny, summer morning, a good friend of mine will ask, "When is the show? I'm looking forward to seeing it."

I will look down at my shoes. The question will make me sad.

I will look up and say, "The show closed yesterday. Yesterday was our final show."

"Oh, I'm sorry I missed it," my friend will say. "How was it?"

I won't want to answer. The answer will be too complex. I'll probably say, "It was great. The cast and crew were excellent. The audiences were gracious. I'm sorry you weren't there. It's too hard to describe."

And, then, I will return to looking at my shoes.

It will be too late to sell a ticket.

New, Improved Young Isaac

Here's news. Details and personal reflections will surely follow in the days and weeks to come.

For now...

I'm delighted to let you know that Young Isaac is merging with People To My Site.

Here is a one-page media announcement, introducing you to our merger partner and describing the combination of our businesses.

Same Old Young Isaac...
We will continue to be "Young Isaac" -- with me, with Mary, with nearly every Youngster, including our name and the Intelligent Salesboy™ (likable smartypants) brand -- and with our creative marketing strategy and creative development.

...But Much, Much More
People To My Site will bring our clients enormous opportunity in search marketing and search engine optimization. We are taking Young Isaac's existing Internet and new media capabilities and leaping forward into the future.

Feel free to send me any questions.

Thanks for your support and professional affection toward Young Isaac.

Free Money

Here's a poorly kept secret. (Young Isaac has been hired to spread the word through viral marketing.)

Today, at 3 p.m. is PowerPhilanthropy Match Day, courtesy of The Columbus Foundation.

Here are the rules:

Beginning at 3:00 p.m., anyone may visit the Foundation's website to make an online gift to a favorite nonprofit.

The Columbus Foundation will match 50% of all public donations of $1,000 or less made online with a credit card through PowerPhilanthropy, while funds last.

Anyone can give, starting with a $20 minimum.

Kind People Are Waiting To Pounce
Let's pay attention to the "while funds last" part. 

The donors of The Columbus Foundation are providing $175,000 for this match. That's a lot of money. But, the viral campaign has been successful. I expect the money to be gone within 10 minutes.

If you take a moment to register in advance, you might grab some of that $175Gs for your favorite charity. Again, you can give as little as $20.

I'll be there.

Let's crash the server.

Making Change

Woodhouse Lynch is the great gem of a men's clothing store around the corner.

My father bought his suits there. They are so well made that I still wear those suits. And I always shop there first.

The comfortable shop is amiably and expertly run by a father and son team both named "Tom Lynch." Father Tom wears out brooms pretending to sweep the sidewalk in front of the store. He does this so he's out on the street with a purpose. But the purpose isn't sweeping. The purpose is getting caught up in conversations about life with passers-by. It's great marketing.

Woodhouse Lynch Will Never Close
Until the end of the month. An article in The Columbus Dispatch this weekend (with that great photo above by Chris Russell) reported that, yes, indeed Tom and Tom are indeed entitled to close their shop if they want to.

And they have decided they want to.

Amazing.

Of course, there are economic realities at play. Per capita suit purchase is down, now that you can come to the office in a halter -top and flip-flops. Suburban shopping is up with fancy malls that refuse to call themselves "malls." And consumer spending is currently in the cruncher.

But, even with the economic writing on the wall for a small business, it takes enormous courage to shut 'er town.

The Courage To Change
It takes courage to close – and move to the next chapter.

In recent weeks, several people have described the same fear that keeps them from making big change in their lives.

Mainly, they worry what the world will think. One after another says, "If I close my business (or reject my long-standing profession), the world will think..." They trail off.

So I ask: think what?

They answer in a whisper, "...that I failed."

Au contraire, mon frère.
A friend told me several years ago that this fear doesn't really come to pass.

He had made enormous change in his professional life. Several times. He asked me, "Do you know what the world would say if you changed everything? What would the world say if you were to close Young Isaac?"

A lot of words came to mind. I thought my move would generate drama. Friends would be shocked. Clients would be disappointed. Employees would be destitute.

No, he explained. Here's what the world would say:

"Huh."

"And then the world will return to its daily life."

What Will Change Is Your World
To be sure, your own world changes when you change everything.

For example, if you are a banker and you leave banking to become an artist, the bankers will say, "Huh." They might envy you. They might think you lost your mind.

But, if they think anything more than "huh," you won't be there to hear it.

You will be standing among artists, listening more to what they say. 

So Did I Change Everything?
Kinda. Sorta. Four years ago, I had to change everything. Young Isaac wasn't growing like it should. I was frustrated.

Happily, rather than closing Young Isaac, I re-opened it, as the Chinese restaurants say, under new management.

What About You?
If the world didn't care, what would you change?

 

Shave off a little Morgan

Doug Morgan is my hero.

In my continuing hero worship, I shall now steal his story. (With disciples like me, who needs plagiarizers?)

Doug spake thusly:

I went to the bike store recently and asked whether I should upgrade to the new titanium frame. It costs hundreds, maybe a thousand dollars more. What's the benefit? You can shave a couple pounds off the bike. So I asked the bike guy, Dave Baer, "Should I buy one of these? Is it the cost worth the decrease in weight?"

Dave looked at me. Then he confirmed my question by asking me, "You're willing to spend a lot of money taking two pounds off your bike?"

"Yes, I think so," I said. "What do you recommend?"

Dave answered: "You want to shave off a couple of pounds. Here's a way to do that without spending any money at all." He pats his trim stomach. "Eat a smaller lunch everyday. Shave a couple pounds off your frame. It will have the same overall effect on your biking. And, of course, it will be better for you anyway."

This is more than a story about biking and Doug Morgan. It's a story about ethical marketing. What did Dave Baer do? He told the truth. He gave great advice. He sacrificed a thousand-dollar sale. What did he get? A lifelong trust from Doug Morgan, who will over time buy everything in the store, including the titanium frame.

And now you've also read the story. That's what Dave Baer did.

You want more Doug Morgan? Sure you do. Visit his Two Wheeling blog.

Tiger Trap

The following video is enjoyable viewing. I'm not much of a golfer, but I love Tiger Woods. He is so charming and human in this view.

Before you watch this, however, consider: Does this video sell the car? What are the attributes of the car that are promoted?

All I can tell is:

• It's a silver Buick Rainier, which looks too big to be fuel efficient.
• Golfers are glad when they get one for free from Tiger Woods.
• And Tiger Woods is paid to give them away.

So, is this advertising? Or desperation? Does it make you want a Rainier?

You could tell friends, "This is the car that Tiger Woods gave away on the You Tube video."

Would you like to say that? How many times?

A view of students today

This video from Kansas State University has been seen more than one million times on YouTube. Have you seen it?

My 11-year-old son showed it to me.

It might cause us all to pause and reconsider how we teach and learn. And how we market to prospective college students.

Does your college or university understand how the students feel and what their expectations are?

SkyBus is the best airline

How can SkyBus be the best airline? Here's how: it is the only airline that consistently delivers on its promise.

The SkyBus promise, as I understand it: SkyBus promises to be nothing more than a way to get there by air at the lowest cost. (Here's the difference, in their words.) In my experience, SkyBus delivers.

A Satisfied Customer's Report
My first two SkyBus flights were last week. Family business called me to the northern suburbs of Chicago. The other airlines offered $900 round trip tickets; SkyBus was $150 to Milwaukee.

Here's some of what I learned:

• To understand SkyBus, you need to meditate on the "Bus," rather than the "Sky." SkyBus is like taking the bus, back when taking the bus could be clean and pleasant.
• Don't ask, "When are we boarding?" The answer is, "When you see the plane in the window, we are boarding." This is because the plane sits at the gate for only 25 minutes. A full fueling takes 24 minutes, so everything else is done in that time. If a flight runs three minutes late in the morning, that airplane will be three minutes late all day. There is no way for them to make up time.

Advertising is teaching

Is advertising teaching or entertainment? If it is only entertainment, it is a shallow practice. I think that advertising is most honorable when its practitioners see it as a form of teaching.

Of course, great teachers are entertaining enough to hold the attention of the students. But entertainment is the method, not the goal, in the classroom, when the content is important.

Ideally, teachers instruct students in the most important decisions in life.
Similarly, advertising can teach people how to make the biggest decisions of their lives, in a way that benefits the individual, the family, and the community. Getting people to make small decisions -- which potato chips to buy -- might need only entertainment. (Unless health consciousness has made even that difficult.)

Have you seen the new potato chips with caffeine on them? Can you imagine smart people spending the days of their lives on the development of such a disappointing product? I see a product like this and can only wonder, "How do you keep them lit?" For surely they must be smoked.

That's not for me. I prefer to work on bet-your-life and bet-your-company decisions. That's when we are risking our lives, our children's lives, our livelihoods. These decisions are often on healthcare, education and financial services. Because the bet is big (and in many ways irreversible), we are beFUDdled. We are swamped with FUD (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt), delegating or deferring life's biggest decisions. That's when advertising that teaches can come to the aid of the beFUDdled.

Teachers Make Great Ad Folk
This is why I like to work with advertising people who are former or current teachers. Teachers understand that a target audience can be like a student roster; curriculum, a campaign; learning objectives, marketing goals. And, of course, the teacher is the message. (Teachers know that students of any age stare at the teacher to determine: "Should I care about this subject? Does this teacher care so much and so well that I also should care?"

At Young Isaac, we have current adjunct professors of creativity, business, advertising and design; and current and former teachers of everything from aerobics to Sunday School to gun safety.

Advertising is teaching. Otherwise, it's just entertainment. Or, worse, coercion.

Like great teaching, advertising substantially improves lives.

Food for thought

I was relatively healthy until my wife returned to school. You see, instead of becoming a librarian (which was the plan all along), she became a nurse.

My health hasn't changed, but now I'm preoccupied by the health risks of everything. Alisa knows too much about what drives The Body Machine. And she says she wants me to live a long time.

But I don't know what's good for me. This is a special bother when it comes to food. Alisa tells me that Frosted Flakes are deadlier than Honey Nut Cheerios, but the labels claim equal deadliness. So why can't I have Frosted Flakes? They're terrrific.

It's not just me
Apparently, according to "Is It Healthy? Food Rating Systems Battle It Out" by Andrew Martin in The New York Times, a lot of us are feeling frenzied by the decisions in the supermarket.

It makes me wonder about the consumer ethics: