Seeing past the problem

By Mark Di Somma

What do you see when you look at a problem?Every transformation programme I have ever worked on has been set in motion by a problem. And in every case the issue that has galvinised action and that everyone is so focused on answering is not the real problem at all.

As Simon Sinek has observed, people intuitively deal with what they know before they deal with the things they don’t know or feel less comfortable dealing with. The easiest question, and the place most people start is “what?” They deal first with the symptoms they can see and quantify. And often they address them with a “how” that is equally familiar – the methodology they always use.

But while a particular problem may have set off the trip-wire, in reality that problem is probably a symptom of what’s really happened rather than the real cause.

It’s the prompt.

And just having a way to address that problem does not guarantee any quality of answer. It simply provides a process for everyone to map to.

Do you know the lovely story of Abraham Wald? His reasoning shows why what you think you see can be so misleading. The mathematician was called in to determine how to make bombers safer during the Second World War. Everyone agreed they needed more armour. But where? Armour is heavy. If you put it everywhere, the bombers would never get off the ground. The answer seemed obvious. Put the armour where the planes were being shot the most. So Wald went to work and sketched all the places where bombers returning from their runs were most shot up.

But then, in his analysis of the situation, Wald turned everything on its head. The areas of most apparent damage were not the problem, he concluded, because they appeared on planes that made it back. The real areas of vulnerability on a bomber were those areas that weren’t marked – because planes shot there were the ones that never made it home.

Wald’s wonderful insight was to resist the temptation to ask “what am I looking at?” and to ask instead “why can I see this?” It’s a reminder to all of us. As are the words of the philosopher Karl Popper who said, “Whenever a theory appears to you as the only possible one, take this as a sign that you have neither understood the theory nor the problem which it was intended to solve.”

Here’s what I got out of both men’s approaches. The next time you’re grappling with a marketing issue, don’t focus on the symptom or the approach, focus on the situation. And don’t veer towards what you understand. Set a course for what truly isn’t making sense.

Acknowledgements

Photo of man looking at us by Bryan Gosline, sourced from Flickr.

More reading

The strategy of radical beauty
Crunching on cacti
The contradictions of eyelashes and data

If there’s a transformation issue I can help you with, please contact me.

How to make sure your company’s next strategy succeeds

This fabulous article by Charles Roxburgh is a must read for every decision maker responsible for deciding the fate of a proposed strategy. It explores in fascinating detail how the brain tricks leaders into making “rational” decisions that are nothing of the sort. In fact, it reveals that all of us work to a set of biases that we must consciously resist.

While my recent post on Prussian cast iron medals addressed how behavioural economics can work to actively lift value and change perceptions for buyers, Roxburgh’s work is a sobering reminder that rogue decision making is alive and well. Much of what he describes in terms of European financial services is equally applicable to what happens in many other fields. In this post, I highlight Roxburgh’s key observations, his recommendations on how to address them, and the steps I look to take as a strategist to ensure that what I’m doing gets the fairest hearing it can from the decision makers I’m working with.

Settle in please for a longer-than-usual riff on how decision makers can fight the forces of human nature and lift the chances of strategic success:

1. Read the forecasts for any strategy’s outcomes with care. The chances of failure are much higher than we like to give them credit for. Optimism is built into our DNA as human beings, which is vital for creativity, but unless carefully controlled it tends to see even the most careful strategist inserting unrealistic stretch into plans in the sincere belief that such extremes can be achieved.

Roxburgh suggests:

  • Avoid presuming certainty or success.
  • Stress-test strategies under a range of two or four scenarios.
  • Add 20 to 25 percent more downside to the most pessimistic scenario and see what floats.
  • Build flexibility and options into your strategy to enable responsiveness either up or down.

What I also try and do:

Quantify the problem honestly even before you look for answers. Not just how big is the problem, but what are the implications of the problem and have they been addressed. Regular readers will know that I’m a huge believer in the Stockdale Paradox. To that end, I look to maximise the extent and gravity of a problem whilst always believing that there is a viable and positive answer. Being brutally frank about what needs to be tackled can make for some tense conversations and the optimists in the room will quickly label you as a pain the butt, but it’s absolutely vital to avoid drinking in the fairy dust.

It also tells you something that so often gets lost: how big the answer really needs to be based on what’s being tackled, not how big it’s allowed to be based on the budget that’s been assigned.

2. Invest money where it counts, not where it feels good. Richard Thaler’s principle of ‘mental accounting’ is that decision makers subconciously assign various levels of sexiness to different budgets and Roxburgh gives some great example of this in the article.

Roxburgh suggests:

  • Judge every call for investment consistently.
  • Don’t allow money to be reclassified so that it is then acceptable to spend.
  • Remember every dollar is worth a dollar, no matter what it’s spent on.

What I also try and do:

Keep the resources and the problem in the same frame the whole time. Make sure money is spent on the actual problem, and that the problem doesn’t become a reason for money to be spent on something everyone would prefer to be involved with. The very real temptation here is to pin the strategy on the problem: to assign an answer that everyone would like to see happen (and its accompanying resources) to a problem no-one wants to tackle head-on, in the belief that doing so will fix the problem or at least make it more palatable to deal with.

3. Recognise that status quo bias means people would rather ignore what’s really going on. Roxburgh explains that people would rather leave things as they are, that they are more concerned about the risk of loss than they are excited by the prospect of gain and that they often exhibit a strong desire to hang on to what they own because the very fact of owning makes whatever it is more valuable to the owner.

The results of this bias, according to Roxburgh, are that decision makers are reluctant to make big calls. “The challenge for strategists,” he observes, “is to distinguish between a status quo option that is genuinely the right course and one that feels deceptively safe because of an innate bias.”

Roxburgh suggests:

  • Be prepared to shed. View divestment not as a failure but as a healthy renewal of the corporate portfolio.
  • Be as rigorous in your analysis of what stays as what you want to change.

What I also try and do:

Know what you’re keeping and what you’re changing – and why. For me there are four key things to identify in discussions with decision makers around any strategic change programme:

  • What must we keep?
  • What could we keep?
  • What could we change?
  • What must we change?

Start with what must stay. In my world, for example, you absolutely want to retain the intrinsic goodness of a brand at every level, from goodwill to heritage to culture, and that’s usually where I start – with what a brand must keep in order to retain competitive value. For me, this more conservative approach of moving from the known to the unknown does give people anchors. It allows decision makers to use status quo bias to their advantage because a clear rationale for why some things are staying leads onto the tougher questions of what must be left behind.

4. Know that there’s no such thing as the foreseeable future. Anyone whose read “Black Swan” will understand the dangers that past patterns present in terms of predicting the future. However anchoring is a powerful human trait. It causes us to look ahead based on what we’ve already seen. Companies do this all the time in their expectations around performance. “What you did last year – plus X percent.” So often those numbers are arrived at with little or no context in terms of market dynamics. As Roxburgh says, and as readers of Nicholas Taleb will know, “Repeated studies have failed to show any statistical correlation between good past performance and future performance.”

Roxburgh suggests:

  • Continually question every assumption about where a market is heading
  • Don’t allow yourself to be swayed by “industry consensus”
  • If you are going to look at patterns, take a long historical perspective. Put trends in the context of the past 20 or 30 years, not the past 2 or 3.

What I also try and do:

Pinpoint the assumptions. Sounds straight-forward. Isn’t. If it’s difficult to know what we don’t know, it’s equally challenging to establish what we don’t question. Sometimes conventions and assumptions are so ingrained in ways of working that people fail to recognise them as fallible or even negotiable.

Look long for patterns – but judge how long by the dynamics of the sector. Some sectors evolve faster than others, meaning some have longer turn times while others shift gear much more quickly. What feels like a responsible timeframe to analyse trends in the finance markets (Roxburgh’s reference point) could be ridiculous in a sector like technology (which isn’t even 30 years old yet as a consumer sector).

5. Know where the exit is, and know when to leave. The sunk-cost effect sees companies continuing to throw money at a problem, long after it has passed economic viability, in a bid to salvage their investment and miraculously turn things around. No-one likes to admit they got it wrong, but knowing when to do so, and doing so decisively, is critical not just to saving resources but having resources available to adequately fund what replaces it.

I watch in despair as companies make “strategic” decisions to continue investing in products that have no hope of recouping that investment, never mind making a profit, because no-one is prepared to pull the plug. When the idea does fail, the blame somehow falls on “market conditions” and everyone puts on their best game face.

According to Roxburgh, sunk cost effect can be explained by loss aversion (companies would rather spend more than write off everything to date) and on anchoring (once the brain has been anchored to a budget, the additional budget doesn’t seem unreasonable).

He suggests:

  • Kill what can’t work – and do so as early as is reasonable.
  • Pursue several strategic options – taking a portfolio approach to your strategy allows you to go with what works and ditch what doesn’t rather than relying on one master plan.
  • Gate fund as a stop-loss mechanism – release follow-on funding for a strategy only once agreed targets are met.

What I also try and do:

Have a strong, future-set brand story. Set a very clear vision for what a brand will feel like and be acting like when the strategy succeeds. I do that through the formation of a brand story that looks ahead to how the brand should be three years from now. I have found such a document keeps everyone very focused on the outcome and quickly shows when things are going off-track from a perceptive/receptive point of view.

Back up the story with clear numbers. At Audacity, we look to put a measurement framework in place that quantifies the story in terms of how things should track across a range of agreed metrics. Doing this enables decision makers to plot how a brand is progressing and to take corrective actions if things go off-kilter.

The story plots sentiment. The measurement framework plots numbers.

6. Resist the urge to herd. This idea is little short of comfort-food for marketing decision makers, so we won’t dwell on this one. But Roxburgh makes one point here that is well worth noting: “Some actions may be necessary to match the competition … But these are not unique sources of strategic advantage, and finding such sources is what strategy is all about.”

I think a worrying mistake that decision makers make is that they assume that once they have signed off the strategy, it will deliver advantage for the foreseeable future. Not true of course. As VJ Govindarajan has pointed out many times, a strategy’s effectiveness starts to fade the moment it is created. Why? Because once it is made public, and proven to be successful, the herd will inevitably adopt. The strategies of today are the hygiene factors of tomorrow – and the transition time from distinctive to indistinguishable continues to shorten.

What I also try and do:

Find ways to distinctualise your brand that then force others to play by your rules. The company that drives successful change in a market decides successful change in a market. In the strategy, look for ways to define the market atmosphere that work in your favour, and that actively work against a competitor trying to do the same thing. My friend Keith Rushbrook has a great question that he asks a strategy team to get them to that point, “What can we be or do that our competitors can’t be or do, and if they try, that’ll work to our advantage?”

Apple is a past master at entering a market after the initial forays, changing the rules, and then getting everyone else to play catch-up. As I’ve said elsewhere, “The most powerful brand you can own and manage is one where you know and write the code – not one that takes its cues from where others are, or where you perceive them to be.” Conversely, if you are the brand that everyone takes its cues from, you get to play to your strengths and your agenda, and your competitors can only follow.

7. Less will change than you expect. Humans misestimate future hedonic states. In other words, people are bad at estimating how much pleasure or pain they will feel if their circumstances change dramatically. Roxburgh says that people adjust surprisingly quickly even to major change, and that their level of pleasure (hedonic state) ends up, broadly, where it was before. Even acts that at the time seem revolutionary and highly disruptive emotionally will soon become the new normal.

Equally, within a culture, ideas that trigger predictions that they will generate huge difference to the company or to its culture seldom have as big an impact as predicted. Outrageous is often just a synonym for ‘too early’. If everything else is right, the concern that ‘our people will find it hard to adjust’ has been proven time and again to be incorrect. Yes, people will have misgivings – initially anyway – but they will soon adapt to what’s required.

Roxburgh suggests:

  • Keep things in perspective.
  • Navigate the inevitable swings in emotion and morale as people adjust to change.

8. Remember that the strategist’s role is to counter-balance the consensus bias. Let them do that. But then challenge them back. Roxburgh says people tend to overestimate the extent to which others share their views, beliefs, and experiences. He gives four examples of the false-consensus effect:

  • Confirmation bias – the tendency to seek out opinions and facts that support our own beliefs and hypotheses
  • Selective recall – remembering only facts and experiences that reinforce our assumptions
  • Biased evaluation – accepting evidence that supports personal hypotheses, while rejecting  contradictory evidence.
  • Groupthink – simply agreeing with those around us

By way of examples, he quotes classic lines one might hear from a CEO working from a false consensus basis:

  • “the executive team is 100 percent behind the new strategy” (groupthink)
  • “the chairman and the board are fully supportive and they all agree with our strategy” (false consensus)
  • “I’ve heard only good things from dealers and customers about our new product range” (selective recall)

False consensus is pernicious, says Roxburgh, because it can lead strategists to miss important threats and to persist with doomed strategies.

He suggests:

  • Put all ideas up for review. Create a culture of open challenge and constructive debate within management teams where reviews are welcomed as helpful, not hostile, acts.
  • Seek out and debate contrary views so that they have been considered. Even establish a “challenger team” to identify the flaws.

Final thoughts

I agree wholeheartedly. Whilst it may be hard for strategists to have the ideas they have worked on so hard picked apart by colleagues, it’s much more dangerous to leave ideas unlitigated. Debate is healthy providing it remains focused on the business outcomes and everyone is committed to finding real answers and not simply looking to issue ‘restraining orders’.

To close, a thought for strategists taking part in these processes. It’s never easy being the ideas person. It requires sustained energy and confidence, and you won’t get everything right all of the time, but then, as Roxburgh shows, neither will those around you.

The strategy of radical beauty

Should you climb a mountain because it’s there, or because you believe you have a more than reasonable chance of conquering it? In a commercial setting at least, I’ll plumb for B – because presence alone is not a rational reason to participate. I continue to be intrigued though by the human instinct to believe that the odds are there for beating. I watch brands plunge into markets where they honestly believe they can do what others have failed to do for no other reason than that they believe in themselves and/or they have little respect for the current participants.

Believing in your own brilliance and/or relying on the incompetence of others however, as Michael Porter reminds us, is not a strategy. In fact, it’s nothing short of a gamble.

In a wonderful article on “How strategists lead”, Professor Cynthia Montgomery of the Harvard Business School gives a telling example of how some great companies have fancied their chances in the furniture manufacturing sector, only to become a cropper. They have, she says, looked to invest in a sector which, on analysis, has deep fragmentation, poor marketing, low brand awareness, high competition, high transportation costs, low productivity, eroding prices, fast imitation, slow growth and low returns.

Tellingly, all the companies cited in her article entered the sector believing they could change it, and all have since left.

Professor Montgomery’s point? That “the competitive forces at work in your industry determine some (and perhaps much) of your company’s performance”. In other words, if you fail as a brand to truly appreciate the forces working against you, you essentially fail to account for how and why you will beat them at their own game. In the case of the furniture manufacturing sector, what Montgomery’s analysis shows is there is no money to be had in this sector. It’s inherently unprofitable, so “The strategist must understand such forces, how they affect the playing field where competition takes place, and the likelihood that his or her plan has what it takes to flourish in those circumstances.”

Critical word here – flourish. As in out-perform, not just participate in, or even improve on. Without a deliberate and measured plan to actually redefine how business can be done profitably in a sector, brands are in effect simply adding their roll-call of products to an already crowded beauty parade in what may well be an “unhelpful” competitive environment. What’s missing, as Montgomery so rightly points out, is “a brutally frank and open confrontation of the facts”. You can’t win in the furniture manufacturing sector by simply being another furniture manufacturer. Unless you are prepared to turn all the rules on their head, as IKEA did, the incumbent market forces will inherently work against you.

The role of the strategist is to find “radical beauty” – an idea/product/approach/model that fulfils everything customers are really looking for and at the same time is sufficiently distanced from the status quo to defy conventional sector limitations.

The global coffee market doesn’t need another coffee brand. The global airline industry doesn’t need another airline. The world doesn’t need any more ad agencies. Unless you actively plan to bring something radically beautiful to those markets that others haven’t brought and can’t instantly bring (at the first sign of your success), stay off the mountain.

More reading

Crunching on cacti
Not a problem: success pivots on what you solve, not just what you know
Brand dynamics: the shapeshifting of brand likeability
Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle …
The business of cloning
You can’t lead as a brand if you follow another brand
Great brands unearth

Additional perspectives

Time looks at whether Virgin America’s strategy is right for the times. Virgin America: Why an Airline that Travelers Love is Failing

Crunching on cacti

An airbrushed problem is not an easier problem to solve. In many ways, it’s actually much more difficult because the nature and extent of the problem itself is encoded in euphemisms, which usually means that the potential impact is also encrypted.

I call these deflections and understatements “icing the cactus”. Generally, they involve playing up the momentary nature of what has happened (“unseasonal”, “untimely”), playing down the likely effects (with words like “blimp” and “unfortunate”) and playing off one action or group against another (“there’s no doubt it would have worked if …”)

Personally, I’ve always held with the Stockdale paradox: that organisations need to present issues frankly and without blinking, at the same time as they must utterly believe in their ability to be resolved. You can’t fully solve what you don’t fully know, and therefore what you are prepared to fully admit to.

Actually, problem solving itself is a misnomer – because the problem itself is seldom the problem. The real problems are usually the attitudes, mindsets, blindsides, denials, assumptions and stupidities that created the problem. That’s why people apply icing – to avoid admitting the connection between what was decided and the extent of the damage that was subsequently generated. They don’t want the search for an answer to turn into their search for a job.

If I’m running such a session, I generally open with three statements:
• Great companies make mistakes – because otherwise they wouldn’t be ambitious enough.
• Greater companies admit mistakes – because otherwise they wouldn’t be trustworthy enough.
• And the best companies hunt for mistakes – because otherwise they won’t improve enough.

Sessions like this are uncomfortable, awkward, emotional and vital. If you run the session right, everyone will emerge with an uncensored understanding of what went wrong, and, with guidance, they can draw on that to clearly and fully think through what to do next.

At times though, it really will feel like you are crunching on a cactus with your bare teeth. So, if you’re the one charged with fixing whatever’s really happened, here’s a little thought I call on to keep me persevering when everyone else doesn’t want to know or is playing with the truth: Keep going, because if you leave enough icing on the cactus, every prick will hide.

More reading

The great customer vanishing act: what happens when you can’t track them?
Not a problem: success pivots on what you solve, not just what you know
Brand dynamics: the shapeshifting of brand likeability
Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle …
The business of cloning
Always be branding
You can’t lead as a brand if you follow another brand
Great brands unearth
Is your brand ready for the experience war?
Brands at the speed of life

Market leadership: why innovation needs to engage, not just impress

Blair points me in the direction of Booz & Company’s 2011 Global Innovation 1000 for some interesting insights as to why innovation works for some and not for others. (Thanks Blair.)

According to Booz & Co, innovation spending increased in 2011 to $1.15 trillion globally. The 1000 companies that Booz & Co surveyed represented almost half this spend and in the last year their innovation spend was up 9% on the previous year.

However, what interested me was the news that the companies that spent the most were not necessarily those that got the most out of their innovation investment. In fact, the top 10 innovators (Apple, Google, 3M, GE, Microsoft, IBM, Samsung, P&G, Toyota and Facebook) out-performed the top 10 spenders in three key metrics: revenue growth; EBITDA and market capitalisation.

So innovation can work but it doesn’t always work, and it doesn’t work the same for all. What really counts is the context in which innovation is applied. According to the report, 44 percent of companies who reported that their innovation strategies are clearly aligned with their business goals —and that their cultures strongly support those innovation goals — delivered 33 percent higher enterprise value growth and 17 percent higher profit growth on five-year measures than those lacking that alignment. (By contrast, over half of companies reported that their innovation programmes and their business strategies and culture were out of alignment, and 20% of companies didn’t even have an articulated innovation strategy.)

My own view is that the distinctions between innovation and improvement have been blurred in recent times, and the advantages of focus over finance have been overlooked. With so much hoopla about innovation in the business press, it’s tempting to believe that any change is innovation and any innovation will work.

But keeping up is not the same as forging ahead and brands need to be a lot more judicious in that regard in their identification of what they are developing. What may look like adjacent innovation at the outset can, at the pace at which markets move today, be little more than incremental improvement by release date. Incremental improvement is vital of course – but it’s not a gamechanger. It simply keeps you up to speed in the game you’re in.

More importantly, true market leadership is powered by exciting ideas not just impressive ideas. It seems to me that too many companies judge the success of their innovation programmes on technical shifts that wow colleagues and industry insiders. But the significance of these breakthroughs does not necessarily translate to marketability and therefore sales. And the changes themselves are not necessarily in line with where the company is heading, what the brand represents or where demand will rise.

There’s a significant difference between invention and innovation in a commercial context. Invention makes something new. Innovation contributes something new. It actually changes the company’s possibilities. That won’t happen if innovators don’t develop engaging innovation; innovation that doesn’t just solve a problem but actually meets a tangible and evolving need in fascinating ways.

Engaging innovations are the ideas that will power the business forward because they will gamechange the sector to your brand’s advantage, lift margins, meet future market needs, inspire customers to buy and directly contribute to the purpose you have set yourselves as a business.

Does your innovation programme do that?

If not, let me make two suggestions. First, change the innovation conversation so that it does.

Secondly, and even more importantly, change the participants in those conversations. If there’s not a senior marketer in the loop, changes are your circle’s either plain wrong or not wide enough.

More reading

The new role of marketing
The great customer vanishing act: what happens when you can’t track them?
The portfolio approach to strategy
The fall of the wall between customers and culture
The power of being purposeful

Other perspectives

Market leadership: the -out and the -est

Two thoughts that I really like, brought together.

The first was one introduced to me by Rob Smith, CEO, Paper Plus back in August 2008. It’s called –est. It goes like this:

There are a very small number of fully competitive positions in a sector and you need to own, and align yourself, to one:

Quickest
Biggest
Cheapest
Coolest
Specialist.

Anything else is the middle ground.

Everyone I raise this with debates the number and raises other possibilities. But you get the idea. It’s superlative and competitive and combative. To me, this is the –est test in brand positioning. Who are you going to be? And are you sure, are you really sure, you want to be that?

Second thought, introduced recently by Seth Godin in this post.  Out-. You win when you:

Outsmart
Outlead
Outcare
Outlisten
Outconnect

He gives others. They’re fabulous of course. To me, they are the market leading opportunities. They signal how you intend to win.

I think this question brings the two together:

Who are you going to out-______ in order to be the ______-est in your sector?

What I really like about this is how scary it is on the one hand.

And how specific it is on the other …

More reading

The business of cloning
Always be branding
You can’t lead as a brand if you follow another brand
Great brands unearth
Is your brand ready for the experience war?
Brands at the speed of life

Other perspectives

Not a problem: success pivots on what you solve, not just what you know

If you’re not a fan yet of the Scattershot blog, then I’d like to suggest you should be. In a post published earlier this week, Rajant discusses the concept of “ground truth”. Ground truth, as its name suggests, is the view on the ground that verifies and informs the satellite view. It’s a great way to separate a problem from a truth.

What’s interesting about this is that the perspective that brands have of situations gained from afar can be very different from the reality closer to home. In fact, those on the ground may not see that they have an issue at all. That’s a significant hurdle when your cue for action is something your audience doesn’t recognise. Rajant gives the telling example of P&G’s launch of Febreze, which initially failed. The reason? You only need an air freshener if you understand that you are surrounded by bad smells. The problem with that: “even the strongest odours fade with continual exposure … And Febreze’s reward (an odourless home) was meaningless to someone who couldn’t smell offensive scents in the first place”. If my house smells fine to me, then my truth as a consumer is that scent is not a problem and therefore there is no reason to take action. There’s literally nothing to fix. That premise isn’t going to fly.

The actual problem for most marketers is seldom the problem we’re presented with or that we think we have. Often what we’re seeing, or thinking we have to solve, is either something we’d like to solve or a trigger action, the last straw that convinced everyone looking on of the need to take action. If you take either of those literally though, you’re breathing in the wrong air.

Selling what you want to sell is wishful thinking. And that’s all it is until you establish need, habit and (probably) scale.

As for trigger actions – falling sales are not a problem, they are a symptom. Same for increased competition, lack of market share, consumer antipathy … Any solution based on addressing that data alone risks the same outcome as Febreze. It solves something that no-one but the brand owners recognises or feels pain over. It’s not an answer. It doesn’t actually address the real underlying need. The one based on the ground truth.

Most brand strategists run a discovery process, at which they seek to uncover the facts and get to grips with the situation they are being asked to solve. They fact find. And of course that’s necessary. But the real purpose of the discovery process is not to gather information. The purpose of the discovery process is to overlay what you’re learning (facts) over what’s happening (symptoms) in order to unearth the real problem or opportunity (driver).

One of my favourite reminders is that it is not the job of a marketer, or anyone else for that matter, to revive sales, close out competitors, lift customer survey results or increase the Klout score. Because those are all things outside of a brand’s control. They are customer decisions. The role of people who work for a brand is to really understand why those things are happening and to address them in ways that delight, surprise, engage, provoke, and/or motivate buyers. The sign that they have done that well is when sales lift, market presence increases, customer survey results climb and the social media metrics increase.

As HL Mencken once remarked, “There is always an easy solution to every problem – neat, plausible, and wrong.” Marketers love to look for simple answers to easily identifiable problems. The ground truth is that consumers aren’t simple people.

More reading

Is thinking a desk job?

Over at Conversation Agent, Valeria Maltoni asks :Where do you do your best thinking?” For me, it depends on the problem. And what I think and even how I think about something is directed by that. Here are my seven favourite approaches:

1. Sometimes it’s sitting somewhere quietly with a pencil and paper and just writing thought sequences down until something clicks. Usually that’s about rethinking the associations. Scrabble means charades with a touch of Pixar over a business model.

2. I read avidly for the same reason. It’s all about finding different lines of logic. Disrupting. That’s really good for new products or ideas where there is no precedent or if you need to put daylight between what normally happens and what will need to happen for the brand you’re working on. Read about a completely different situation, and then apply what you got from it. To find out more about this, read The Medici Effect.

3. Other times it’s a walk – to get sensory inputs such as eye contact, noises, colour, vistas. Good for getting into the emotions of a situation or problem. Take your phone, sing to yourself, absorb. Good for quiet days.

4. Finding a picture of the situation works the same way. It can crystallise the situation and quite literally frame the argument. It’s not unusual for me to spend hours trolling National Geographics in search of an image that epitomises a situation or a relationship for me. I recognise that this doesn’t always look entirely productive to other people. Visual people get it. Others struggle.

5. Actually going to a place, sitting with a coffee and watching what people do in the real-life situation can be amazingly insightful. It almost always challenges your preconceptions because people don’t behave as you’d expect, and even knowing that, you can still be taken by surprise. A cross between playing detective, amateur psychology and thinking of a problem like a documentary. Very good when you need to change a habit.

6. Sometimes it’s good to talk – but not always about the problem itself. I have conversations with Gren, Alex and others that seem to cover everything but the issue. They work. I always walk away feeling everything has snapped shut. Everyone else seems to walk away in a state of bewilderment tinged with amusement. Synapsial. Good for lateral answers. Requires humour. May look like time-wasting to others. I think of it as the water-cooler comes to the meeting room.

7. If it’s a seriously knotty issue, it’s time for a bath – a habit I happen to share with one of my favourite authors, the late Douglas Adams. In a book about the making of the original radio scripts for Hitch-hikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, there’s a lovely story about Adams’ love of Chinese takeaways and baths, and his tendency to consume more and more of both, the closer he got to deadline. As a result, the more pressing the timeframe became, the cleaner and more replete the writer. May or may not work for you.

Out-take: Work doesn’t always have to look like work in order to work.

The strategy consulting dilemma

I remember having an animated discussion with the CEO of a professional services firm once about their right to take a market-leading position in problem solving. His resistance was based on the fact that, statistically, such work constituted a relatively small part of what they did, even though it was the work that the whole firm loved, and that they had built their reputation on.

How can we claim for that work to exemplify what we do when it is a smaller proportion of our fees?, he asked me. Unless you want that trend to accelerate, how can you not make a stand in the market as the strategist of choice?, I replied.

What do you want to be known for vs what you actually do the most.

Or as Rolling Stone put it so brilliantly: Perception vs reality.

This review of the state of strategy consulting suggests the dilemma was not his firm’s alone. Strategy is still the poster-activity for the smart set, but more and more firms are finding that strategy, while still the activité du jour of a thought leader, increasingly represents less and less of the money in the door. Strategy may be what they’re known for, but the real money it seems gets made much more prosaically. Consider this: “behemoths such as McKinsey and BCG, to maintain their above-industry-average growth rates and keep their global office networks humming, have broadened what they do and moved down the food chain.” In fact, according to the article, pure strategy is on the way to becoming the loss leader that firms ‘invest’ in, in order to win the bankrolling work.

You can read this a couple of ways. If you’re an optimist, it’s a sign of the convergence of thinking and execution into a seamless whole. If you’re a cynic, you’ll see it as one more step towards action at the expense of direction. Either way, if strategy is to avoid commoditising, it’s going to have to reassert its value or risk steady deterioration.

Does strategy consulting itself need a new strategy?