If you don’t think customer service is part of marketing—and maybe the most important part—this post is must reading for you.

Old movie theater marquee. Photo by Marcus Buckner.
Old movie theater marquee. Photo by Marcus Buckner.

Great Service Builds a Business

Great customer service builds long-term customers, relationships, and ambassadors for your brand! Just ask Nordstrom. They surely don’t compete on price.

Ask Southwest Airlines, which made its original reputation on low prices but now is known for exemplary service in an industry that generally treats its customers like crap. Many times, I’ve actually paid a bit more to fly Southwest, because I know I can check bags for free and—more importantly—change my ticket if there’s an issue.

Southwest earned my loyalty by saving an expensive cruise vacation that was about to go up in smoke when our airport closed for a snowstorm and we weren’t going to make our connection to the cruise ship. Southwest cheerfully if perplexedly let us shift to the following day in a different city, so we could board at the ship’s first port-of-call.

These days, I go to the Southwest website first, and only check discount travel sites if I can’t get a good flight there. Have I told people they should fly Southwest? You betcha. I just told you and a few thousand others, in fact.

Crappy Service Kills a Brand

Yet no amount of (expensive) marketing will undo bad customer service. This is something I talk about in many of my books, including the most recent, Guerrilla Marketing to Heal the World.

I have boycotted a number of businesses that treated me shabbily—including the movie theater in the New York City neighborhood I grew up in that sold my 12-year-old self a full-price adult ticket and made me sit in the children’s section. I have not been back in the 47 years since—because I felt wronged and discriminated against.

But the worst was our local Toyota dealership. We had a long and extended bad interaction with them that culminated in a phone call, “you have 24 hours to get your car out of our lot—and by the way, the engine is in pieces in the trunk.”

Not only did I write a five-page complaint letter with full documentation to the VP of customer relations for Toyota USA (which gave a too-little-too-late form-letter make-good offer a full year later), not only did I never buy as much as a tube of touch-up paint from that dealer for the rest of their career and was not sorry when they closed—but the next time I went car shopping, I didn’t even seriously consider Toyota and bought a competing brand. That was the first time I bought a car not built or designed by Toyota since 1981; they threw away decades of strong brand loyalty. Over the 30 years or so that likely remained in my car-buying lifetime at that moment, they probably cost themselves well into the six figures.

And no amount of expensive advertising will counter the disconnect if you don’t walk your talk, even if it’s not a customer service issue. If you have a sign posted in your store noting that you’ve empowered your employees to solve customer issues, as the late Blockbuster Video did, that should actually be the policy. It wasn’t for Blockbuster, in my personal experience. And they’re gone.

And these days, a frustrated customer doesn’t just tell ten friends. I just read recently that Dave Carroll’s video, “United Breaks Guitars”—seen by nearly 17 million people—actually lowered the airline’s stock price. The video also garnered tons of mainstream media coverage (including CBS and CNN), many new fans for Carroll and his band, the Sons of Maxwell, and even a book contract (the book—big surprise—is called United Breaks Guitars. And think about all those “companysucks.com” websites out there damaging brands.

In Guerrilla Marketing to Heal the World, I cite an auto-industry study that only 40 percent repurchase. So it’s up to you to turn satisfaction first into delighted amazement, and then into loyalty, and finally into ambassadorship for your brand?

Timothy Keiningham and Terry Varva, authors ofThe Customer Delight Principle: Exceeding Customers’ Expectations for Bottom-Line Success, point out that marketing’s primary role is to communicate “the wants, needs, and expectations of current and potential customers,” [emphasis mine] so the business can “create and distribute products or services that more closely address and answer these inherent needs.” If meeting the needs of current customers doesn’t encompass customer service, you’re in trouble.

Please share your customer service successes and disasters (either as a vendor or a s a customer) in the comments section, below.

 

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I’d hazard a guess that most US natives between the ages of 40-80 can still sing the jingle: “Candy-coated popcorn, peanuts and a prize. That’s what you get with Cracker Jack.” It was a big part of our childhoods, back in the days when three TV networks controlled the entire universe of video and national advertisers bought saturation advertising programs that aired the same commercial many times a day. Cracker Jack was immortalized in the song “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in 1908, started bundling the prize way back in 1912, and began its national TV advertising in 1955.

The Cracker Jack box as it appeared during my 1960s childhood (courtesy of Wikipedia)
The Cracker Jack box as it appeared during my 1960s childhood (courtesy of Wikipedia)

It didn’t matter that the prize was something worth about 2 cents, something not even worthy of being called a tchochke. It was the thrill of the hunt, searching through all that icky sticky stuff to locate the prize—and the thrill of mystery, never knowing what, umm, “treasure” you’d find. Sometimes it would be something really cool, like a spy decoder ring. But like any other grab-bag item, sometimes it was truly worthless. I knew kids who bought CrackerJack just to get that prize.

At that time, the company was owned by Borden, whose Elsie the Cow was another advertising icon of the period. It’s now owned by Pepsico’s Frito-Lay division

Well, here’s some shocking news: Despite its wildly successful run of more than 100 years, the Cracker Jack toy is now an endangered species. As Bob Dylan sang during the Cracker Jack saturation TV period, “The times, they are a changing.” Cracker Jack is replacing the “tchochkette” (if I can coin a word that merges Yiddish and French) with a slip of paper bearing a QR code!

I’m sorry, but that is just not the same. From a branding point of view, I think it’s a huge error. Cracker Jack’s whole brand is built around nostalgia, Americana, baseball, and that unforgettable jingle. Sure, digital natives will redeem their QR codes and not think twice about it. But they won’t know what they’re missing. And those who can’t afford or choose not to use smartphones are left out entirely. Plus, their kids will never hear their parents scream at a bad driver, “Did you get your license in a Cracker Jack box?” A piece of American culture is disappearing.

In Cracker Jack’s earliest days, during a baseball corruption scandal known as the Chicago Black Sox scandal, a fan reportedly went up to the legendary Shoeless Joe Jackson and begged, “Say it ain’t so, Joe!” Maybe now, we need to say, “Get back on the track, Jack!”

 

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It’s an interesting juxtaposition: reading Martin Lindstrom’s new book, Brandwashed, which talks heavily about big-ticket marketing—among other techniques, manufacturing celebrity. And then dropping in to Midtown Manhattan a couple of hours early for my event, and spending those hours exploring around Times Square—about as commercial a location as one can find in the US.

First, frugalist that I am, I was pleased to play tourist while keeping my wallet safely inside my pocket, and still feel like I got a good taste of Madame Toussaud’s, Ripley’s, and Planet Hollywood just from the free stuff: the gift shop, the teaser exhibits, and in Planet Hollywood’s case, the restaurant walls lined with movie artifacts.

But second, the whole idea that not only do we love celebrity, we even love the people who emulate celebrity. Replicas of props, concert announcements about a Beatles brunch (at B.B. King’s Lucile’s club) featuring not one of the two surviving Beatles, but cast memb ers of Beatlemania.

As soneone who is not-all-that-tuned into celebrity (I can’t even tell you WHY the Kardashians are famous), I find it fascinating to watch.

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In the Great Advertising Debate, branding vs. direct response, I’ve always come down on the side of direct response. Every marketing message (not just ads) should have a call to action, a way of moving the reader/viewer/listener forward.

With the Internet making it very easy to remove material from its original context and share it, I see a lost opportunity in this spoof ad by an environmental group attacking Royal Bank of Canada for its funding of highly polluting and environmentally destructive oil extraction from Canadian tar sands. Here is this stunning video, as flawlessly produced as anything from Madison Avenue.

On the original page, the action is clear:

Email RBC’s CEO Gordon Nixon and ask him to stop financing dirty tar sands oil and start funding a clean energy future.

But inevitably, there will be versions of this video circulating by e-mail or posted on other websites. All they needed to do was have a slide at the end with the URL to take action. That chance will be lost. People will see this video, with no action step at the end, and they won’t know what to do about it. They’ll be a bit more educated on the issue, but will have no place to channel their new concern.

Also, the letter text itself is another lost opportunity. Mired in passive language and bureaucratic tone, it takes some doing to extract (pun intentional) the actual message. Yes, there’s the opportunity to edit the letter, but the complete rewrite that’s called for will be too time consuming and most people won’t bother. I confess, I didn’t bother.

Here’s the first paragraph; tar sands don’t even come up until paragraph 2:

Amidst an unprecedented transformation in the banking sector, RBC clings to the outdated idea that social responsibility is separate from core banking activities. This letter is to encourage you to update its social and environmental practices to meet modern standards.

This was probably a deliberate choice, to talk to a banker in banker’s language. But I think it’s a wrong choice. I’d have gone for a much more direct lead, like

RBC’s continued funding of environmentally devastating tar sands oil extraction is not acceptable to stakeholders, and won’t be acceptable in the courts.

I’m going to use the email contact on their website to send these suggestions, so the page may have been fixed by the time you see it. If so, more power to them. I think Rainforest Action Network does great work, and my goal is to educate, not to embarrass. I’m dong it publicly because I see many worthwhile messages and opportunities similarly lost in the inability to step out of the branding mindset. Next time you send out a political action message, I hope your call to action will be clear and thoroughly integrated.

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