Heading out to last night’s Edinburgh Twestival, I asked my wife what she thought the dress code would be. Quick as a flash, she responded: “Anorak!” and, to some extent, she was right. I’ve never been to any gathering where so many people, myself included, could be seen with their mobiles and iPhones poised to send yet another Twitticism flying round the web.Yet, somehow, it wasn’t really geeky. In Edinburgh the excellent Hawke+Hunter made a great venue for what turned out to be a superb evening of entertainment, networking and good old-fashioned boozing. My kind of Thursday night, really – and it raised a heap of cash for a very worthy charity. But what was really interesting about the whole thing was the loose thread that bound all the attendees together: Twitter. I was struck by the diversity of the Edinburgh gathering. From silver surfers to a couple of goofy teenagers, clutching their passports to prove they were old enough to drink, the place was jumping and everyone seemed to be having a good time. And, at last, I started to see what Twitter is for – and, for marketers, what it could become. The idea of Twestivals was only dreamed up in September. It started as a single proposed event and became 175+ all over the world in a matter of weeks. And all of it was organised by volunteers, supported by local sponsors. Once the idea was unleashed, as Seth might put it, the virus spread fast. Twitter itself is only the medium, a new tool that smart marketers can add to their arsenal. But it’s a powerful tool with complex rules and, unlike old world advertising and marketing, the customers talk back. Whether conventional brands will be able to make Twitter’s curious dynamics work remains to be seen but, in the right hands and with a bit of imagination, the possibilities are exciting.
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Yesterday, I paid a visit to an organisation that is currently housed in a building owned and directly managed by one of the major banks. We arrived in a snow storm and because my colleagues and I had come from different ends of town, we were in two cars. Having parked in the car park out front (which was busy but there were a few gaps) we hurried through the snow flurries and presented ourselves at reception. First impressions are important and the reception desk is a window into the company’s soul. ‘Ye cannae park in those spaces,’ was the growled greeting from our host. ‘Ye’ll have tae move.’ I can never understand companies that don’t have a visitors’ car park. That car park should be big enough for the number of visitors expected on the average day (with a sensible contingency plan for exceptional days) and it should be right at the door. Especially when the office building is in the middle of nowhere in a soul-less business park. Although common courtesy should be enough to justify this strategy, it also makes sense. Your visitors are your customers, potential recruits, possible business partners, vital suppliers, people whose support you need – not people that you want to send back into a snowstorm to find a space, maybe out in the street or in a nearby housing scheme. Little details like this do matter and a grumpy jobsworth at the front door can do untold damage to your brand. Every interaction, no matter how small, is an opportunity to enhance a brand’s reputation and its value. Admittedly, our receptionist’s employer is in the doldrums at the moment but if they have any chance of rebuilding a once proud reputation, they’ll have to start at the front door.
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Alan Munro
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