Redomesticated?

Last week, I received a notice from a life insurance company. I’ve had a small policy with them since I was 18, purchased by my mother.

“Dear Policyholder,” it said, “we are pleased to share some new information concerning our company. [Our company] has been redomesticated from Illinois to Iowa.” It also advised me that an Endorsement was also enclosed detailing this “new” information. (Actually, the endorsement was on the back of the letter and the information was effective September 27 of last year, so calling it “new” is already a problem for me.)

Now what did that mean, I wondered? It sounded like a dog that had been a house pet and then had gone wild for a time and now was being “redomesticated” as a pet. No wonder they sent additional paper along with the notice – domesticating can be a messy business.

It turns out the company had moved its principal office from Chicago to Iowa, presumably to take advantage of some corporate tax or rate structure not available in Illinois. They hastened to add that their facility in Chicago would remain; it would now be the “Executive Office.”

Wouldn’t it have been simpler – and more understandable to the average consumer – to say, “We’ve moved our principal office to Iowa?” Or we’ve relocated? It almost sounds like they’re ashamed of the move. I’ve never been to Iowa, but from all I’ve read, it’s a nice place with lots of good, honest people. No need to hide anything.

Corporations move headquarters and other units like credit card and payment processing offices all the time, whenever less operating expenses resulting from lower labor, energy or tax costs can benefit their bottom line. Sometimes it was done to skirt existing regulations in seeking new markets. In Pennsylvania in the 1970s, the state had a law that said a bank could only open new offices in counties that were immediately adjacent to the county that contained its headquarters. Banks played musical offices in a valiant attempt to place their ”headquarters” – usually just a post office box or one-room office – where they could border the counties with the highest growth rates. But I don’t think they called it “redomesticating.” Those were simpler times, you know.

Recalling one of the biggest moves of that era, Citibank decided to relocate its credit card operation from New York to South Dakota – to take advantage of that state’s favorable interest rate laws. Can you imagine the head of the credit card operation being called into the CEO’s office and being told, “Congratulations, you’re getting new offices. They’re in South Dakota.” Now that’s redomestication!

P.S. My know-it-all spell checker in Microsoft Word 2003 has never heard of “redomesticated” or any of its allied forms. Maybe I should have written this entry on my other computer that has Word 2007. Then again…

Don't Call It Advertising

I was going through some of my oldest files built up over 20 years of teaching public relations writing and case problems. I came across a newspaper ad I thought I had lost; I’m glad I found it.

“Don’t call it advertising” was the headline; the ad ran on November 9, 1994, the day after the mid-term elections and was signed by Ketchum Advertising, one of the country’s major advertising agencies of that period.

Jerry Della Femina, who holds legendary creative status in the industry, wrote the copy. In it, he highlighted several of the more egregious negative political commercials in what he termed “one of the dirtiest elections in the history of this century.”

“This is filth,” the copy read, “political filth that is not advertising and shouldn’t be dignified by being called advertising.” Ketchum called on people in advertising, broadcasting, publishing and business to “stand up together and say ‘Stop.’ Stop the character assassination. Stop the lies. Stop the ugliness. And, above all, stop calling what you’re doing advertising.”

The ad implored the broadcasting and publishing communities to hold political advertising to the same standards as commercial advertising, noting that if a corporation ran ads akin to political ads, its executives would face fines and jail, hounded by the same politicians whose ads made up that year’s political filth. The ad also asked ordinary citizens to urge politicians to rein in the ugly negative ads.

It’s now 14 years later and, unfortunately, not much has changed. Most political campaigns and the ads that support them are negative, containing much of the same dirt that Ketchum’s ad decried in 1994. Why did Ketchum’s plea for change go unheeded? Because negative political ads work – “attack ads” by individual candidates or 527 groups, whether local, regional or national, make an impact, or so at least some of the research tells us.

They also foster another other outcome – voter disgust and disillusionment with the electoral system As I’ve said in class, using two students as candidates, “If Mandy and Amanda are running against each other, and Mandy’s ads call Amanda a crook, while Amanda’s ads call Mandy an idiot, eventually the voter targeted by these assaults comes to a conclusion: Let’s see; I have a choice between a crook and an idiot. I think I’ll stay home.” The result: some of the lowest overall voter turnouts of any democracy in the world.

Because it works, negative political campaigning and paid media will no doubt continue. But let’s repeat the plea: Don’t Call It Advertising.

Cut It Out!

I’m teaching a class in public relations writing this semester. As I’ve found with most college students, the one thing usually common to their writing is that it’s cluttered.

I’ve tried several methods to get them to pare their verbiage. I’ve pointed out examples in their writing as to how they can use fewer words and actually strengthen their sentences.

I’ve quoted from such noted writing teachers as Williams Zinnser and Roy Peter Clark, showing them how to keep the word count down. As Zinnser notes, don’t say “At the present time, we are experiencing precipitation” when you mean “it’s raining.”

I even recalled a college journalism professor of mine (a sportswriter, no less), who advised us one day that one of the most expressive sentences ever written was also one of the shortest: “Jesus wept.” (John 13:31).

The other day, I tried another tack. “You all text message your friends,” I said. “You don’t waste words there, do you?” They all agreed that needless words had no place in that medium. So I asked them to write with a text-message perspective – make every word count. If a word’s not pulling its weight, cut it out. You’ll be surprised how much excess you can trim, I said.

I think they may be getting the message. One thing I did not ask them to do was to fill their papers with text or instant messaging acronyms and emoticons. Those are already everywhere in abundance – with billions of BTWs, LOLs and ROTFLs traversing the spectrum daily. In fact, I suppose, those acronyms may someday become standard language. It could be coming, but if it does, I hope I’m LB&P – long boxed and planted.

Cheaper By The Pound

I’ve been looking through some back copies of The Public Relations Strategist, the quarterly publication of the Public Relations Society of America. I’m a member of PRSA and the faculty advisor for the student chapter of the organization at the university where I teach part-time.

One article I came across bemoaned the fact that public relations was becoming “commoditized,” that is, being seen by corporate executives as something you can buy like paper clips, as the article said “…ordered in volume and chopped in price.” The author expressed concern that this vision of public relations as a commodity was a new and growing trend.

Growing it may be; new it is not. I worked for an advertising and public relations agency for two decades beginning in 1974 and, even then, PR (and advertising as well) was being seen as a commodity that you could buy like a carton of paper. I remember this line from an annual report of a client of ours: “[The category] Other Expenses rose due to increases in office supplies, advertising and postage.” It’s always nice to be lumped in with the paper clips and stamps.

I’ll never forget a story that my boss told me about the time he got an inquiry from a local attorney about helping that attorney’s client with a “PR problem.”

I’m just paraphrasing, but here’s the gist: the attorney calls my boss and says (“in that stentorian voice of his”, according to my boss), “Bill, I have a client I think you know. We’ve helped him with some legal issues, but I believe as a result of those issues, he has a PR problem. Can you tell me, how much would a little PR cost?”

My boss said he thought for a few seconds and replied: “Well, counselor. I’m not sure. How much does a little law cost?”

I don’t think the attorney was pleased. But as public relations professionals, neither should we be pleased when someone asks how much “a little PR” costs. Maybe we should say, “It’s on special this week; cheaper by the pound.”

A Word from Our Sponsor

More and more, that word is foul.

I’ve been in the advertising and public relations business for over 30 years. In the past five years, the business has probably changed more than it did in the previous 15 – mostly due to technology.

It’s harder for advertisers to get their message across, and many have turned to the internet to spread “buzz” with viral videos. With all the clutter – no matter what the medium – a number of advertisers are turning to less-than-palatable appeals in ordered to get noticed.

Jawbone, the maker of Bluetooth devices, is one of those. They recently introduced a series of web films purporting to show that their headset seals out noise so well, users can be completely unaware of what’s going on just a few feet away.

One of those “films” is called “Medium F_*****g Starch.” (With virtually no censorship on the internet, of course, it goes by the full spelling of that title.) In the spot, a total jerk of a business exec comes into a Chinese laundry and proceeds to rebuke the laundry’s owner and his entire family in an f-word laced tirade full of racist stereotypes. In the meantime, another customer waiting for his laundry gets a call that he answers on his Jawbone. Suitably insulated, he never hears the owner’s daughters and wife eventually strangle and beat the guy to death.

Naturally, the clip has received a healthy share of internet views via YouTube and others, so it’s already done its job. The trade publication Adweek headlined its coverage of the spots by saying “Jawbone Gets Edgy…” It quotes the campaign’s creator, “We're seeking to use intelligence and want people to think and contemplate and end up in our camp.”

Allow me a few observations. It’s edgy all right…the far edge of disgust. As for using intelligence, there’s none present – unless you consider racism, profanity and violence intelligent. Oh, it made me think. I think it’s one of the worst spots I’ve seen in the entire time I’ve been in the business. It’s one camp I’ll end up in only at the point of a gun.

After seeing the spots featured in a “Creativity” email I get– I had the opportunity to rate it from one to five stars. I left a comment asking if it were possible to give it a minus-five. I’ve always thought advertising was an honorable profession – despite the assaults of the critics and the historically low “trust” ratings ad practitioners get, somewhere around used-car salespersons and members of Congress. Campaigns like this make me think the critics are right.

The famous ad copywriter Ray Welch wrote a book called “Copywriter: A Life of Making Ads and Other Mistakes.” Since Ray is not too much older than I am, I enjoyed his stories of the advertising business as it once was. On the back of the book, the well-known advertising executive Jack Connors called Ray’s memoir “…a documentary of the time when advertising was fun.” That would imply that it is no longer fun. When I see Medium F_*****g Starch, I know he’s right.

This Is Not A Bill

Of all the paperwork I hate – and I find it all insufferable – I detest medical paperwork most of all. It arrives in that dreaded plain white envelope; inside a document with the legend prominently displayed: THIS IS NOT A BILL. After unfurling the treatise from its womb, I am confronted with a thicket of unintelligible jargon known as the “Explanation of Benefits.” It’s never terribly clear. Once I had some periodontal work done and it was classified as “osseous surgery.” Who knew? With that language it could have been the removal of an appendix – or some other vital, rather than vestigial, appendage. God forbid.

Other than the jargon, it’s filled with footnotes and disclaimers relating to who covered what and how much, whether the provider is a participating provider, how much of your deductible you’ve met and so on and on and on.

A 2004 news release issued by the Physicians for a National Health Program cited a study by Harvard Medical School and Public Citizen that found “health care bureaucracy [in 2003] cost the United States $399.4 billion.” (Emphasis added.) For paperwork? As the late U.S. Senator Everett Dirksen supposedly said, “A billion here, a billion there, soon you’re talking real money.”

This isn’t an argument for any particular health care reform. That’s better debated in a much more comprehensive and knowledgeable arena than this blog. There are so many players in the debate, each with his scalpel to grind. I can only hope that whatever reform comes about makes a sizable incision in that $400 billion in bureaucracy costs.

The National Center for Policy Analysis reports on its website that “some three million clerks and managers are employed in the health-care industry – nearly four times the number of doctors now practicing.” Just handling the claims alone, the center says, costs $13 billion. Now those are some telling numbers – could it be part of the reason why there’s some 45 million+ uninsured Americans?

Maybe all that money is for handling those forms you seem to always be filling out – sometimes each and every time you visit the same doctor for the same condition. Maybe it’s all the reports doctors and other professionals have to fill out. Maybe it’s some other paperwork demon.

But surely those THIS IS NOT A BILL printouts are the chief culprit. Why do we need a separate one in most cases for each and every procedure – even those done on the same day? How about a monthly recap, something like a bank statement? Can you imagine a bank sending you a statement every time you wrote a check or made a deposit?

I’m seriously considering a small protest against this excess of paperwork that’s costing us so much time, money and trees. The next time my health insurance premium is due, I think I’ll send a small piece of paper with the invoice that says, “THIS IS NOT A CHECK.” It would save them a small amount of processing time.

I would think that my insurance company would not be amused by my creativity. But, hell, I’ll feel good – and isn’t that what health care is supposed to be all about?

Yes Sir; No, Ma’am

I had Paul the plumber in the other day replacing a sink and vanity in the downstairs bathroom. Paul’s been here before, so we know each other. He’s in his 40s; I’m 55.

Because this job was more involved than just fixing a toilet valve, he had to ask questions from time to time. Invariably, he began with “Sir? I need to ask you…”

After a few iterations of this, I kidded him, “Paul, do I really look that old that you have to keep calling me ‘Sir?’”

“It’s how I was raised…” and he started to say “sir” again, but then hesitated. “Me, too,” I said. “Mom and Dad always made sure we got that one right. None of this yeah and nah. It was always “Yes, Sir” and “No, Ma’am.” I don’t think that’s much in fashion these days.”

Too bad. To me, it’s a mark of respect for other people – particularly those in authority. It’s not kowtowing, fawning or pandering. It’s saying “I respect you.”

Maybe our techno culture doesn’t mesh well with Yes, Sir and No, Ma’am – too formal sounding. Employees are associates or team members and business casual or even less formal styles of attire dominate. That’s fine, but it doesn’t mean we should respect other people any less.

I do several things not in fashion these days. I’m not looking for any accolades or honors. Because it’s the way I was raised, I don’t even think much about it.

I’ve always held doors open for other people – men as well as women. The reactions I get are interesting. People older than me seem genuinely surprised. I guess it doesn’t happen that much. The strangest reaction I get seems to be from some young women. They give me a look that seems to say, “Oh, so you don’t think I can open the door myself, you male chauvinist.” Lighten up!

It’s been said that our society has become coarser than ever before in spite of its technological advances. Everywhere from the boardroom to the playground to the halls of Congress, civility seems to have vanished. It’s just a lack of respect. Do I really believe that? Yes, sir, I do.

Sign Up Today

Today I drove past a building under construction on the main street of my town’s business district. The crew was hard at work, building…what? I don’t know. There was no sign telling me who or what was coming to the neighborhood. Given the location, it must be a commercial structure, but beyond that, who would know?

Having spent more than 30 years in advertising and public relations, I always thought – and taught this as well – that a business should take advantage of every opportunity to distinguish itself from the competition. What better time to start than when a new building starts to rise… when people driving and walking by this hub of activity are naturally curious – and interested – about what’s coming to town. Yet I see so many new commercial buildings going up with no sign whatsoever.

It doesn’t take much. How about a sign that says, “Future Home of Fenwick & Jones, Attorneys At Law” or “Coming Soon – Main Line Lunch” or “Opening in December: Nature’s Best Health Foods?” Satisfy that consumer curiosity that’s been piqued by the construction and nourish that initial impression with your regular marketing as opening draws near. Don’t even wait for the foundation to be poured – let people know right after the first shovel of ground’s been turned. Get creative – make the sign a countdown clock or put a line in reminding people about a charity – Heart Walk, United Way, or the local volunteer fire company. Sure, once the building is finished, you’ll have a permanent sign; but by then you’ll just be part of the surrounding commercial landscape. Stand out now.

This doesn’t just apply to for-profit businesses; the new home for a food bank or community youth center also should get a head start on spreading the word.

I know: many localities have sign ordinances and there’s already a lot of sign clutter. Most of those ordinances apply to permanent signs, and if you’re creative enough, you won’t be adding to the clutter. It’s not like your immediate neighbors don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve already been through the planning commission, the zoning board and the town council, unless you just decided to start building with the hope that none of them would notice.

What you do see a lot at new construction is a sign trumpeting the bank that provided the money: “Another Project Financed by First National Bank of Somewhere.” It’s nice advertising for the bank, but what good does it do the new business owner?

So what’s being built on the main street in my town’s business district? It could be anything from a house of worship to a house of ill repute. I don’t know. Sign Up Today, guys!

True Colors

I will never be mistaken for an Appalachian Trail “thru-hiker,” but I do like to have the right kind of equipment for my short jaunts in nearby state parks and conservancies. The other day I decided I needed a new waist pack (You can tell I’m not that much of a hiker or it would be a backpack.).

I located a Marmot Excursion pack in a Dick’s Sporting Goods Store. It’s a nice pack, hopefully worth the $40 it cost. In addition to it being highly functional, I thought it looked sharp – a nice dark blue with contrasting light blue highlights. Or so I thought. Looking at the tag, I saw the true colors in Marmot’s eyes were “Tempest” and “Stellar.”

“Maybe,” I thought, “that what makes this pack so special – and lets Marmot get away with charging more for it than if they said it was dark blue and light blue.” After all, a company named after a rodent has to enhance its products somehow. (Actually, they’re a company with a top-notch reputation).

A whole lot of folks are getting into exotic-sounding colors…blue, green or red are just too pedestrian. You need to justify that price tag. Some of the colors of items in the J Jill catalog that my wife buys from are: stone, dark mineral, shale, beach grass and bay leaf. It sounds like they’re running a quarry or lawn and garden store. Somehow, I don’t see a dress in “Stone” as having sleek lines. But an equal number of the colors are foods: Honeydew, Chocolate, Nutmeg, Latte, Cinnamon and Oatmeal. Would you like to buy an oatmeal top or skirt, dear? Is that the color or the material? Is it edible?

Other clothing and furnishings companies seem to be serving up the same menu: at LL Bean, you can get a Double L® Polo in Butter or Chili if you’re a guy; for the ladies, you can choose the polo in Spearmint. At Lands End, women can buy a scoop neck tank top in Persimmon. At Maryland Square, the shoe catalog, some of the models come in: Tootsie Roll, Coffee Bean, and Cream Soda. They also feature items in these fine colors: “Luggage,” “Tuscany” and “Tobacco.” It turns out “Luggage” is a shade of tan – my wife’s luggage is blue, so I guess it’s not universal.

The car companies are into adult beverages: you can get a new Ford Taurus in “Merlot,” a Chevrolet Trailblazer in “Bordeaux” or a Lexus SC in “Chardonnay Pearl.” Now there’s a dangerous mix – cars and alcohol.

What’s with all the food and drink references? I can only guess they’re trying to make customers hungry – and thirsty – for their products.

P.S. Back to hiking – if you’d like to read a book about one person’s hiking adventures – funny and serious – try Bill Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods.”

Did Anyone Tell The Animals?

We recently had a one-day government shutdown in my home state of Pennsylvania – due to our bloated state legislature and the governor being unable to agree on a budget prior to the new fiscal year.

It wasn’t a complete shutdown; those services deemed essential for “health and safety” – like the State Police – continued operating. But other things were closed. I remember reading a news release from the state Department of Conservation and Natural Resources (DCNR) which solemnly stated, “All state parks and state forests will be closed.” What I wondered was, “Did anyone tell the animals their homes would be shuttered?”

Ever wanting to do my part, I tried my best to inform the wildlife my sister and I encountered on a hike in Lackawanna State Park the weekend before the shutdown. We couldn’t catch the attention of a soaring bald eagle – we didn’t look enough like prey, I guess. The three deer we encountered scurried away before we could get close enough to relay the news. A series of large spider webs were unoccupied; we would have left a note, but we didn’t have anything to write on. Finally, we got close enough to a red salamander, but the creature mutely professed indifference to our warning. I wonder if DCNR had the same results.

I think it odd that with the criteria for deciding what parts of state government would remain open being “health and safety,” the state liquor stores (ask me about those another time), the state lottery and the five slots casinos remained open. (The latter took a court order to accomplish.) Here’s how I look at it: the shutdown occurred on one of the hottest and most humid days of the year – with excessive heat warnings issued. For many people – particularly in urban areas – the only relief from the dangerous heat would be a nearby state park pool, beach or forest. But they were closed. What happened to “health and safety?” I suppose they could take comfort that the lottery was still in full operation. Oh, and one other thing: the state Revenue Department was shut down. Now there’s progress.

The Great Pennsylvania Government (Partial) Shutdown of 2007 is history, and like the Federal government shutdown in late 1995, the cause was the same: a sandbox fight between two children who haven’t yet learned how to play nicely together yet. What a state! What a country!