Checking The Nation’s Restaurant Communications For Freshness.

Our long, national Kitchen Nightmare is over. Oh wait, it’s not over…

May 16, 2013 By Leave a Comment

You’ve watched this by now?

And you’ve guiltily enjoyed the social media “meltdown”?

You never win a fight with the internet. That’s a rule for all of us—but to fight with such spectacular lack of awareness, such complete blindness to how this was going to play out. Delicious.

You never win a fight with the internet. That’s a rule for all of us—but to fight with such spectacular lack of awareness, such complete blindness to how this was going to play out. Delicious.

News today from Eater announces that these Kitchen Nightmare rejects are going to open again after sullenly shutting their doors and chasing away reporters. They’ll donate proceeds to a cyber bullying charity.

Wow, Amy. Wow, Samy.

Okay, I’ll grant that in a reality TV show edit room, with a skilled and snarky editor, footage can be manipulated to tell more than one story. And I grant that the Kitchen Nightmares reality TV show staff is always going to make host Gordon Ramsay look firm-even-fiery-but-ultimately-fair. Still. You can’t deny that this is a good example of how not to behave when you know there are cameras.

Still, the focus should probably be on the social media response, captured thoroughly here by BuzzFeed.

They got up the next morning and decided to claim they got hacked; so did Representative Anthony Wiener. And him, I wanted to believe.

Learning to navigate efficient food prep, personnel management, cost control and other demands of the restaurant biz often leaves smaller places like Amy’s Baking Company with very little time to think through their marketing plan.

But make this a rule—if you’re not sure how a particular social media site tends to function, proceed with caution: Don’t hurl insults. No caps lock, no threats, no invocations of whichever God is on your side. Don’t whine you’re being bullied. Be unfailingly civil.

In absence of a plan, that’ll be the plan.

Thank you, Amy and Samy, for providing the latest teaching moment for social media advisors.

And for your sake, I hope that soon you may echo the first words out of Gerald Ford’s mouth here:

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Filed Under: Exploring In Real Time Together, Kind of Funny, Links To Stories, Opinion, Social Thinking

In a world starved for “content,” you could do worse than just copy Taco Bell.

May 9, 2013 By 2 Comments

Taco Bell is producing a movie. It has nothing to do with a specific product. Here’s a quote from the news story I got this from:

This summer, there will be an online music documentary about indie bands Wildcat! Wildcat! and Passion Pit. The documentary will incorporate Tweets and other social media messages posted during the bands’ performances at the South by Southwest music festival.

So, see, there’s this buzzword “content,” and Taco Bell is all over it.

I’ve talked about how alive Taco Bell appears in non-traditional media.

I think, for purposes of this discussion, you can define content as “something the brand’s fans are genuinely interested in, and do not interpret as dumb, hype-y, old-fashioned promotion (though everyone quietly realizes that it’s all part of an overall corporate initiative).”

All content isn’t about third-party-topics like South by Southwest. A lot of it is about Taco Bell.

It’s just not crass. It fits with the way their fans think.

Here’s a couple selections from their YouTube channel:

The key, which Taco Bell gets, is to tap into the mindset of the people you want to get in a conversation with. People are doing these Draw My Life videos—and Taco Bell knows it.

(If you don’t know about Draw My Life, I bet that video looked incredibly self-serving. Here, let Smosh fill you in. It’s a current thing.)

That’s how content works. You look like you get it. You look like you like their bands, play their games, and (because we all know people who might work there) kind of are them in a way.

So how should a restaurant approach content? First, get a clear idea of your best customers, and know what they do when they’re out in the world.

Know their memes. Know when their memes are played out. Get their jokes. Make jokes they get. Humbly understand your place in their universe, especially if it’s currently pretty limited.

Invite them behind the scenes to see you’re basically just like them.

Tweeting is not, strictly speaking, content, and this isn’t new news, but when the corporation behaves so much like a person it sounds like your friends having a Twitter War, the result can become content: most major news outlets have at least mentioned this. Whoever was manning the tweet desk at Taco Bell that day and jumped to the smart-assed defense really, really converted a lot of fans.

Tweeting is not, strictly speaking, content, and this isn’t new news, but when the corporation behaves so much like a person it sounds like your friends having a Twitter War, the result can become content: most major news outlets have at least mentioned this. Whoever was manning the tweet desk at Taco Bell that day and jumped to the smart-assed defense really, really converted a lot of fans.

Look, everyone has online relationships with actual people they have never and probably will never meet—it isn’t such a stretch for customers to have relationships with actual people who work at Taco Bell whom we can infer exist as potential online “friends” even though they’re acting on behalf of the company. We don’t mind anymore. If they’re cool.

And Taco Bell content strategists seem cool.

Everybody knows it’s part of a capitalist strategy.

But if it’s interesting, and it feels like something they agree with, and they feel invited in to respond, and it demonstrates that the brand is on their wavelength, it’s okay.

That Taco Bell Flower Shop Speakeasy video has over a million views.

That’s not just the marketing department at Taco Bell and the production company’s interns watching that content.

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Filed Under: Exploring In Real Time Together, News, Opinion, Social Thinking

Domino’s Live Pizza Show: not exactly must-see TV, but yeah, a nifty extension of their campaign.

May 3, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Immediately the snarky Adweek Facebook commenters were all against the live pizza cam: “Why?” “yawn.” “seriously—looks like a snoozefest.”

But you know what? I love their pizza tracker. It’s a gizmo, and it knows it’s a gizmo, and the whole brand positioning of transparency and honesty in dealing with problems is more important than whether I realllllly want to watch a Mormon’s MeatZZa Feast’s pepperonis being applied.

Which, no, I don’t. I have a lot of important things I said I’d do that I haven’t done, and if I’m going to waste time, I’m going to waste time in a more entertaining way.

Or I’m going to read about Nyan cat’s Federal court case and watch the meme for a few minutes.

(sigh) I admit it:

Nyan Cat Meme = Random Mormon Pizza Prep

But this Utah pizza almost-a-stunt is really all about paying off the campaign yet again. Which it does a fine job of doing.

Here is a brand notion that just keeps proving itself useful—first they confess they let their quality slip to the point where they’re a punchline. They take themselves to task, show us where the foods are sourced, show us the employees who want our feedback, provide easy places for us to provide that feedback.

I can even know unsavory things about them as a company, but still accept they’re honestly trying to get better all the time.

And yeah, watching that pizza is boring if you’re not hungry and it’s not your pizza.

It’s still kinda neat.

In related news, here is a box design that can still appear lovely the morning after, laying on the ground by the gas pump I was using:

That’s good Dominos pizza design: it even looks good on the ground by a gas pump.

A very durable brand, is Domino’s.

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Filed Under: Advertising, Exploring In Real Time Together, Links To Stories, Opinion, Social Thinking

KFC returns us now to the thrilling era of the catchphrase with “I Ate the Bones.”

April 30, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I can’t believe I ate the whole bones thing, is what comes to my mind.

Try the bones, you’ll like the bones. Mama Mia, that’s some spicy bones.

What’s really interesting is, these KFC ads are running simultaneously with the new K-Mart catchphrase attempt.

Talk about your zeitgeist. Does this mean that we’ll soon be battling gasoline shortages, high inflation, and a jowl-shaking president who is forced to resign in disgrace after bumbling hired thieves are caught burgling the opposition’s political headquarters in a DC hotel? Hope not, because that means we have to live through the 80s and Duran Duran again.

Hahahahahahaha.

Anyway. I enjoy those “I ate the bones” ads, and I think they do a good job of making people: 1. pay attention 2. understand what exactly is going on here which is, for some, big news and 3. tend to remember, repeat, and even re-use the line in the personal lives with their friends. There is practically no higher praise for a piece of creative work (besides, “it sold stuff”).

Let’s screen another one:

(I do like the voice of the actor who says, “Original recipe.” I wish I could talk that good.)

Here’s my only quibble. When they roll out most creative lines in other media—billboards are the classic example—often the creative team talks about it and ultimately decides to feature the catchphrase prominently, especially on media with limited story-telling abilities. Like billboards. Or parking lot lightpole signage:

It’s a mysterious sign in the parking lot that, having not seen the TV, makes the experience seem somewhat questionable. Should we go ahead and hang it up?

It’s a mysterious sign in the parking lot that, having not seen the TV, makes the experience seem somewhat questionable. Should we go ahead and hang it up?

And if that parking lot lightpole sign said, “I just shipped my pants!” or “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing!” we’d be through here. But it says, “I ate the bones!” And though there might be a viral component to this (I mostly only saw the K-Mart ad on my Facebook feed), the days are gone, gone, gone where you can assume that Mr. and Mrs. America are watching the very episode of All In The Family in which you have chosen to run your “I ate the bones” campaign. Mr. and Mrs. A. tend to miss a lot of TV ads these days.

And if you (like me, actually) are driving through town and see the lightpole sign that says “I ate the bones!” (like I did) you might be forced to think about it a little too much and come up with the idea (as I did, before I knew the score) that the bones might be ground up and included like Jamie Oliver’s nugget paste right in the goo they make the chicken from. That’s not what I really thought, but I had to consider that as one possible interpretation.

Whatever. It’s not what most people will think, probably, but it does point out that we can’t assume that anyone has seen any other part of our campaign, especially if it’s a TV campaign running in this fragmented media landscape. And we always have to consider how an uninformed person might read the sign, and whether the conclusion they might reach (or the image that might come to mind) isn’t really what we want them to be thinking.

I misinterpreted the bones!

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Filed Under: Advertising, Exploring In Real Time Together, Kind of Funny, News, Opinion

Somehow, my love of Starbucks makes their little inadequacies all the more annoying.

April 23, 2013 By Leave a Comment
And here we have a sign for one of my favorite corporate overlords that says absolutely nothing in the loudest voice possible.

And here we have a sign for one of my favorite corporate overlords that says absolutely nothing in the loudest voice possible.

Since Starbucks is (kind of incredibly, when you think about it) the top Quick Serve Restaurant Brand—beating out (I mean, look at this list) Taco Bell, Chipotle, KFC, Burger King and McDonald’s, in that order—I will seize this occasion.

Starting with the next paragraph, I will try to articulate why I am so annoyed by the tone of Starbucks’ writing voice.

ARRRRR-RARRHHHHHRRRRRR I hate that cloying ootsy bootsy cutesy wootsy godawful tone of voice.

….(calming down) …Look, I’m an addict.

Not getting a tall bold coffee from Starbucks (I do not want it from McDonald’s, no thank you) prevents a day from seeming like it began.

I go back after lunch with the cup I hung onto and get a cup discount on another hit (which is often, disappointingly, their meh-flavored Pike Place Roast because in late morning they often stop brewing the thick, oozy, chewy, oily, over-roasted dark stuff that I adore).

If I happen to be near the one Clover brewing device in Indiana, I pay a little extra for that. A little something for me. I deserve a treat, right? Affordable Luxury is a trend, after all.

But it isn’t just the coffee. Mr. Schultz’s idea of “the Third Place” seems invented for me: I do see that cozy, bourgeois décor as a haven. 

I cannot count the excellent musicians I have discovered through their Hear Music samplers, which I usually purchase with my Rewards Card without hesitation and then lose under the seat of my car.

I AM ADDICTED NOT JUST TO THE COFFEE BUT TO THE BRAND EXPERIENCE.

All of this information I am submitting as context for my revulsion at what I must with a heavy grudge admit is their brand tonality.

Now, their graphic design is wonderful: again, it hits my pseudo-refined middle-class sense of cool and tastefulness square on the nailhead. But the language on that design is cloying and smug.

When they’re running low on food in their refrigerated case, there’s copy underneath where the food was that apologizes for the missing items—a clever concept—but they ruin it with presumption: [something like this, I’m quoting from irritated memory] “Wow! You really liked that! Don’t worry, there’ll be more tomorrow.”

Shut up!

And I know I’m spending money on myself that I should probably save for the kids’ college fund, so don’t put up a sign that says, “Take time for you with a Signature Hot Chocolate. Experience the comforting taste of steamed milk and rich chocolate with a magical swirl of whipped cream…” SHUT UP. You’re all breathy. You’re all sexy talking. You’re calling your own merchandise magical, you egotist. Plus you’re all cooing and sighing and rubbing my shoulder GET YOUR HAND OFF MY NECK I DO NOT WANT A NECK MASSAGE. Stop misreading me and don’t be so familiar.

“We roasted it up with a Christmas wish.” “Pass the cheer!” “Discover the taste that inspires you.”

Whatever plump-cheeked cartoon bird sings that stuff is so frickin’ chirpy I want to find it and kill it.

It’s this combination of chatty cuteness and the assumption that I am ready to cuddle combined with an overt attempt to manipulate me that I can’t tolerate. I think it’s the combination of elements that does it. Even the warning on the cups irritates me: “Careful, the beverage you’re about to enjoy is extremely hot.” It winks. It jollies. It makes its voice go low and tucks in its chin like Shirley Temple imitating a stern grownup. Careful, [somehow they imply “you silly old thing”], the beverage [what a weirdly stiff word in this world of furry lovability] you’re about to enjoy [STOP FORCING ME TO ADMIT I ENJOY IT YOU MANIPULATIVE EXPLETIVE DELETEDS] is extremely hot [you’re only talking right now because the lawyers forced you to do it: just say what you have to say and shut up].

Look, I’m the first to advocate casual, conversational language and unnecessary playfulness. I’m also the first, if at all possible, to say that I believe people enjoy good, up-front, charming salespeople who make no pretense about the fact they’re selling you something. Every brand ought to do everything it can to establish a strong relationship with those who love you. BUT STARBUCKS, YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT.

Again, I think it’s this assumption that I’m in love with you that’s at the root of the trouble.

Keep your distance. Notice the power of self-deprecation. You’re in America, where we demand even our most talented actresses and fabulous athletes affect modesty and pretend they ain’t nothin’ special, just everyday folks like yourself. Here in the U.S.A. we don’t like you to put on airs. We invented the word high falutin, and it’s not a compliment.

And if I catch you being pretentious and taking liberties with our relationship, I will never allow you closer than arm’s length, even if I do spend approximately 10% of my annual income at your store.

Whatever. Basic message, I guess, is don’t assume I love you. Don’t wink when you say things.

Just back off, Starbucks.

I haven’t had my coffee yet.

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Filed Under: Exploring In Real Time Together, Opinion
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