
Featuring ten lessons you can start building on today, the Brains on Fire Book takes you step by step through lessons we have learned on how to inspire excitement and engage the customers and other stakeholders who will advocate for you.
Recently I decided to take a little drink out of the fire hose of Tweets that show up on @BrainsOnFire’s timeline (1). Aside from still not understanding how anyone who has an actual job finds utility in following thousands of people (not counting those who’s job is using Twitter), I noticed several interesting posts about customer service.
The phrase that caught my attention was “my problem.”
Everyone’s heard the problem-solving pitch before. There’s an ocean of marketing around the idea and it can be a really tired message. What interests me is the idea of who owns the problem. It’s pretty clear that because they are experiencing pain related to a product or service they purchased, many people feel like they own the complications.
It’s not a new concept (and examples abound), but I was reminded that a great foundation of remarkable service is built when companies re-frame the conversation of problem-ownership with their customers. I’m not talking about an ad campaign or a cute header for your website’s support page, but a culture in which all of your employees take ownership of customer’s issues.
It’s shouldn’t be your customer fighting to get their problem fixed, it’s should be you fighting on behalf of your customer because they decided to give you business.

This very cool house was on the Common 001 Blog. It’s a $20,000 house designed by Rural Studios. You can find out more about Rural Studios here.
So. Okay. Tomorrow I am packin’ up my car and heading down to Greensboro, Alabama to participate as an adviser in COMMON 001 thanks to an invitation from, John Bielenberg. I met John when he was in Greenville for the TEDx conference in March and we became instant friends. He’s the master mind behind this really cool endeavor called Project M.
But back to COMMON 001.
What’s COMMON? From their website:
Introduced in Janurary 2011 by Alex & Ana Bogusky, Rob Schuham and John Bielenberg, COMMON is a creative community for rapidly prototyping social ventures. All done under a unified and collaborative brand.
Common is a collaborative network of creative professionals putting ideas into motion.
And I love this part:
With less talk and more action.
They are creating social ventures, businesses that spread love and prosperity to all shareholders.
You know, they had me at love.
And the idea is all these new found social ventures, will not only spread love and prosperity but they will all share one brand.
COMMON.
Yeah, yeah. Don’t say COMMONist. It’s been said.
Now I won’t pretend to completely see the full vision. YET. And in some ways, I think Ana, Alex, John and Rob are letting a lot of things happen organically. Going with what feels right.
And I like that too.
Anyway, my head and heart says go to Alabama. I’m sure I have something to learn from heading to this little rural community in the dead of summer. Besides, I think a long drive by myself is just what I need. It’s been a crazy busy fun half year. And the thought of loud music, fresh air and alone time on the road just feels right to me.
Find out more about Common and Common Cycles(their first social venture) here.
I’ll take the camera and try to capture some of my adventure on video!
Stay tuned!
Tags: Alabama, Alex & Ana Bogusky, Common, Common Cycles, Greensboro, John Bielenberg, Rob Schuham
Remember these kits? I loved the way the paint smelled.
My grandmother couldn’t read or write. But I learned a lot from her. She taught me early on to see beauty in the tiniest little things. Like buttons she carefully collected in little glass jars. Because she couldn’t read, I also I learned to treasure the gift of reading and writing.
I never, EVER take it for granted.
She was ashamed that she couldn’t read and hid it from me and her other grandchildren for a very long time. She actually “read the paper” every day. Looking intently at each and every page. I think it was the artist in her that let her just contently look at the paper each day. After I found out she couldn’t read, I often wanted to try and understand what she saw each morning as she scanned the daily paper. I remember picking it up to see if I could see differently. I just longed to see what she saw when the letters didn’t form words.
She was also fascinated with paint by number kits. Remember those? But here’s the thing — she never once paid attention to the number on the painting and the number on the little containers of paint that came with it. I used to be amazed at how beautiful things came out when she just followed her own path.
I am a rule breaker by nature.
I HATE following rules. I hate routine. And sameness. Marketers and designers and social media folks have a way of copying each other without being overt about it. Have you ever noticed that? It seems we all want a set of numbers to paint by. Rules for this and that. Tactics that are proven.
Here is what I believe.
People are organic. If you are going to support the conversations your customers are having you have to be willing to break rules with your customers. To trust them. To let them break rules. To let go. Let them paint with the colors they choose. Tell stories they find interesting. You can set the stage, provide the outline. But they have to be the ultimate creators.
I heard Geno say this the other day and it stuck in my heart:
Marketers don’t determine what people talk about. People decide what they want to share.
When we get tired of taking about marketing, we have a tendency to do weird things. It’s a kind of mental break to keep us sane. (Or maybe insane, depending on how you look at it.) Sometimes we even like to share those things with you. After all, we’re a marketing freak show.
So here it is: Feet on Fire! Can you guess which feet belong to which Brains on Fire pirate? We’ll even give you a list to choose from. (We had a few special guests in town helping with a Rage Project, so there’s a few extras in the crew.) And yes, there might be prizes for people who guess right.
Have you ever had the sudden realization that a brand is doing an incredibly good job of communicating with you? That they’ve subtly lured you into liking them and recommending their products?
Maybe it’s because I tow line in the industry everyday, but I’m pretty skeptical of most marketing. Perhaps I have a touch too much of “don’t bullshit a bullshitter” complex. Either way, I opened an email from a company last week and my un-checked gut reaction was, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I really identify with this brand.” The company was Yakima (1), and they make rack systems that help you carry things on your car.
Tasting your own medicine is a weird experience, so I sat back from my computer and thought, “why in the world do I like Yakima so much?” As I began to list the reasons, I realized that they might be good lessons to share. As with so many good things, the answer is simpler than you might think.
So, Yakima, how did you win my heart?
First, you made (and make) an incredible product.
• My relationship with Yakima began when a friend gave me a few really old, beat-up roof mounts that happened to fit my car. I fitted them with some bars and have hauled bikes, kayaks, skis, coffee tables, yard equipment and more. They’ve been perched on my vehicle for years and have never missed a beat. When the need arose to carry a few more bikes, I decided to get a hitch-mount rack to cut down on wind-resistance and fuel usage. I was impressed with my roof mounts, so I bough another Yakima product. I’ve given the new carrier as much beating as my roof-rack in half the time: it’s moved three 30+ lb. bikes (that aren’t cheap) across the United States and back, makes weekly trips to my local trails, and has served as a shuttle for several bike races. Other than a few scratches, which I think add character, the thing is a tank. When I put gear on my racks, I strap it in and don’t have to worry. Ever. Even if I’m driving 3000 miles.
Second, your communications, both in creative and messaging, have been spot-on.
• I understand that I’m likely one of your ideal customers: a young professional who spends as many weekends as possible transporting all sorts of gear into the great outdoors. Even so, you’ve done a great job of portraying my lifestyle. I know by looking at your competition (and their different audience). The other guys often show epic scenes that exist only in my dream vacations, and most of the cars wearing their racks are similar to the luxury vehicles my parents were able to afford after driving jalopies for half a century. Needless to say, I’m not going to be rolling a european all-wheel-drive up to a slope side time-share in Aspen anytime soon. (Not a bad audience to have as a marketer, though.) It’s not that I don’t aspire to go on a dream adventure one day, it’s just that the people in those pictures aren’t me, and they shouldn’t be. When you send me emails, I could almost replace the people in the ads with pictures of my riding buddies at the local hill. It feels congruent, not distant. When I compare your imagery with the other guys’, I look at the Yakima pictures and think, “I would fit in with those people.” (I know that they’re probably models who don’t actually do any outdoor sports, but hey, it’s marketing.)
• I unsubscribe from multiple mailing lists every week. It seems like whenever I purchase something online, even if I specify that I don’t want to receive emails, the machines figure out a way to send me some annoying marketing email. But you’ve always been respectful when you talk to me, Yakima. I’m pretty sure that I signed up for your email list after seeing a brilliant campaign (remember the petition for the 3-day weekend? (2)). Ever since, you’ve sent me occasional messages that are well-written, contain season-appropriate reminders about the outdoors, and take only a few moments to read. You know, now that I think about it, I don’t even know how often you send me emails, which is probably part of the reason I haven’t unsubscribed. I do know that I like it when they show up in my inbox. Also, you don’t promote deals often, but when you do they are really valuable. I don’t feel like you’re constantly trying to sell me.
So thank you, Yakima. I’m going to continue wreaking havoc on your bullet-proof products and reading your helpful, unobtrusive, perfectly-occasional emails. Keep on creating great content and never serving your customers gimmicks. It pays off in the long run. Next up? Community among your loud and proud fans.
Tags: Brand, communication, Customer, email, imagery, Loyalty, Marketing, message, yakima