In the wake of the 2008 financial meltdown, with our portfolio reeling, our real estate in decline, and our consulting business near death, I decided to go back to work.  I got a resume together and began contacting people.  I did a lot of lunches, I met up with old friends, and I found nearly everyone to be sympathetic.  But I didn’t get much actual help, with two exceptions.

The first to come to my aid was my friend and former client Karen Jones, who went out of her way to put me in touch with a whole bunch of senior people who might have a job, or at least know someone who needed someone like me.  Karen was beyond nice, especially given how busy she was as the incoming CMO of Reliant Energy.

The second was Sarah Fay, who exceeded all expectations for what it means to help.  I didn’t know Sarah all that well – we met when I spoke at a Carat senior management conference and she was the agency’s de facto second-in-command to David Verklin, soon to become North American CEO – but this didn’t matter.  Sarah is one of those people who knows everyone, I mean everyone – Malcolm Gladwell would refer to her as a “connector” – which meant she tried to introduce me to anyone who could possibly fix me up with a job.

Not for a lack of trying, but I never did get hired.  Too expensive, too risky, too old.  Who knows?  The crisis abated, work picked up, and I happily continued my Solomon Strategic consulting practice.

But Karen and Sarah’s efforts stayed with me.  I was grateful they came to the rescue when I needed it, so much so I vowed to do the same – to “pay it forward” – when the opportunity arose.   It explains, in part, why from time to time you see posts praising one person or another, in a thinly veiled attempt to be helpful.  This alone is a good reason to have a blog.

The other day I heard from my old friend and former colleague Harry Barrett.  Harry and I go waaaay back, to the early days of the agency you know as Digitas. He was my first agency boss. 

Our paths diverged years ago; I headed to San Francisco, then made my way to New York, pursuing a path in client service.  Harry took a different route, leaving agencies behind to become Managing Partner of Synectics World, an innovator in “process facilitation,” which is a tortured way of saying these folks were great at helping clients discover new ideas for products, services, and addressing problems of all types.

Harry is on his own now; if you have a minute, take a look at his website, which is first-rate.  What I especially like about it is the line, “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

Harry will tell you that the “muscles” you use to be creative are entirely different from the muscles you use to run a business.

I will tell you Harry is really smart, resourceful, and incredibly easy and fun to work with.  If I had a problem in need of a solution, I’d call Harry. 

If you run a business, work at an agency, or are confronting a challenge, you might want to do the same.  

The best part of writing a blog, having a book, and being receptive to email is receiving notes like the one I got from Vineeta Nandakumar, who wrote me from India.

Vineeta was a little unsure if she should contact me:

“This is the first that I am ever writing to someone whom I haven’t spoken to or met earlier. So please forgive me if I sound awkward at any time.”

But she needed some advice:

“I have a degree in Human Genetics after which I took an MBA in Hospital Management. The thing is, I don’t really see myself working as an administrator in a hospital and also the healthcare scene in India isn’t great at the moment. I took up a part time job a month ago at a startup event management company and I had an opportunity to work with clients and understand their requirements. I enjoyed working with the team and getting things organized. So, I’ve been thinking about taking client servicing at a more serious level. I still have about 2 months to finish my course and I really need to figure a lot of things out before I really step into the real world. I’ve been considering taking client relationship management at an advertising firm and it seems like the way forward.”

And had four specific questions for me to address:

1. “What are the skills I really require to get in there?
2. “Which would be the best way in?                                                                                          
3. “Some people I know tell me that it’s best to work as an intern as I don’t possess the right degrees. Is that the right way forward?                                                                                         
4. “Should I take up an additional diploma in something related to communications?”

I was flattered to be asked, and had some suggestions; here’s how I responded to question #1, on skills:

“For starters, let me assure you that you are extraordinarily well-qualified for a career in advertising client management. People who succeed tend to be smart, with sound communication skills, the patience to listen, and the resourcefulness to solve problems. Based on what you have told me, I suspect you are more than proficient in these things.

“About the skills you need: it surely would be helpful if you had a background or training in advertising and marketing – at minimum it would make you appear more qualified as a job candidate to people with jobs to fill — but this is by no means a requirement. You have an MBA in Hospital Management. I graduated with a Master’s degree in literature, hardly the stuff that advertising executives are made of. But I was smart, I listened well, I learned fast, I communicated effectively, and I could solve problems. I also had a passion for advertising, and a willingness to work hard — harder, in fact, than most of my colleagues — in order to succeed.

“I started with an entry level position, and over time acquired the technical proficiency I needed to supplement my other skills in order to advance.”

What about becoming an intern?  This is my answer to question #3:

“You could, of course, start as an intern, but I would make this my default position, trying first to find an entry level job that pays a salary. I would worry less about the job title and more about the people you work with and the opportunity to learn. I know some people who have started as secretaries or as low-level assistants who today hold very significant positions in the industry. It’s much more about talent, drive, and a bit of luck than it is about education or experience.”

On question #4, on needing yet another degree, this is what I said:

“Yes, you could pursue a degree in advertising and marketing; I can even give you some advice on this if you’re interested — but I do not think this is necessary. If you are like me — determined to succeed — and if you care about advertising and marketing – why it works, why it doesn’t — you can do the same.”

On the matter of question #2 — “What’s the best way in?” — I at least was candid, if not helpful:

“If you are going to find a job you will need to develop a resume that specifically highlights your skills and capabilities as a potential advertising agency account executive, then combine this with an overture letter or email designed to get you interviews at advertising agencies that are looking for account people. You also will need to develop you interviewing skills, so that you can impress the people who are charged with making hiring decisions.

“I wish I could provide advice on these matters, but this email would become even longer than it already is.”

It’s April; in a matter of weeks colleges and universities worldwide will disgorge tens of thousands of students seeking jobs.  Some will think about advertising and marketing.  If they are like Vineeta, chances are there is a grateful agency and a delighted client or two ready to welcome her.  

Last night I listened to an album by Sarah Vaughn, called Copacabana.  Every time I hear it, it takes me back roughly 25 years or so, to a restaurant whose name I cannot recall, located on Newbury Street, in Boston, where I was a (relatively) young account person at Bronner Slosberg Associates – today you would call it Digitas – having a late night, after-work dinner with my colleagues Christine Bastoni and Lisa Phildius Pierce (back then there was no “Pierce” to her name; at that time she he hadn’t connected with her soon-to-be husband, Andy Pierce).

Now, I’m clearly in the minority here, but I didn’t care at all for Boston.  Too cold, too bigoted, too close-minded (yes, it’s true, even with all those universities the city so proudly claims).  My theory is that Boston has all the problems of a big city, with none of its virtues.  If you are going to put up with big city living, you might as well be in a real city, like New York.

But none of that mattered this frigid winter evening.  The three of us had put an end to a long work day, probably toiling on the American Express account, and in a moment of unplanned serendipity – serendipity being something Christine is renowned for – we headed off to that quiet spot for some food and wine.

For those two hours, it didn’t matter that I was in Boston; I could have been anywhere.  I was happy to be with friends and colleagues, I was proud to be working in advertising, and delighted to discover it was Sarah Vaughn who was singing about a sunny clime.

The reason I raise this now is I was thinking about my friend Eva Von Krugel in Calgary, Sally Kaldor in Vancouver, Nala Annous in Canberra, Svetlana Pakhomov in Moscow, and a whole bunch of other folks I’ve heard from around the world who respond either to this blog or to my book.  Most of these people work in what New York agency people might refer to as an advertising backwater. 

I think this is flat wrong.

If you work in advertising, it doesn’t matter what city you are in, as long as you are working with colleagues you like, for clients you care about, in a calling you believe in.

It’s about having a sense of place, about feeling good about the business, and about remaining optimistic for its future and your role in it.

It also doesn’t hurt if Sarah Vaughn happens to be on the stereo.

You would think the students who attend Sally Webster’s course in Client Relationship Management at Australia’s University of Canberra would be committed to careers in advertising and marketing.  Some are.  But others, like Carmen Bolton, with whom I had lunch the other day, are traveling a different path.

Carmen and I met at Union Square Café, one of those critic-worthy places warranting a pilgrimage from out-of-towners.  In fact, when another colleague of Sally’s, Alison Sims, made her way to New York, USC is where we had lunch.

I could easily defend the choice based on the quality and consistency of what’s on the menu, but my real reason for choosing it has nothing to do with cuisine, and everything do with service.  It doesn’t matter where you sit, it doesn’t matter what your order, it doesn’t matter who you are; if you want a window into great client service, have a meal there.

It was an especially appropriate venue for our meeting, given Carmen is a graduate student studying for an advanced degree in Communications, not because she is seeking a job in advertising, but because she is an entrepreneur with a thriving business as an athletic trainer.  She wants a competitive edge as she strives to grow her business; marketing knowledge is that edge.

Still, as we talked, the thing that impressed me most is how dedicated Carmen is to her clients. 

I’m guessing that Carmen doesn’t view herself in the training business as much as she views herself in the people business, where her goal is to inspire clients to achieve beyond their expectations.  A bit like USC, and just like advertising and marketing.

There is much that can be taught and learned about client service, and Sally’s class in Client Relationship Management, along with my book and this blog, is largely devoted to this. 

But there also parts of client service cannot be taught.  Carmen is a perfect example.  There are those mysterious things that make a Carmen be a Carmen, and it is in those ephemeral qualities the true magic of client service dwells. 

Carmen will continue to succeed in her current business, or at whatever else she might choose to do in years hence, as long as she remembers that the most important client in the world is the one she is dealing with in the here and now.
 

I headed to college with a pretty clear sense that my next stop four years later would be law school.  I was going to be an attorney.

My junior year, in search of a literature course, I signed up for one taught by Professor Astere Everest Claeyssens.   Two years and eight courses later, Claey, as I came to call him, had changed my life. 

Claey was, simply put, a teacher beyond all expectation.  A riveting speaker who nurtured extraordinary classroom participation among his students, he also was known as a thorough, fair-minded, yet demanding evaluator of performance.  He could transform the most tedious work of art into something other-worldly.  Most important of all, he was determined and deeply invested in making all of us extract every last ounce of talent we had from our efforts. 

His classroom inspiration saved me from a lifetime of lawyer-dom; if it weren’t for Claey, I never would have earned a Master’s degree in literature, never would have become a published poet – yes, it’s true; it was a proud, if fleeting, moment when Poetry magazine accepted an unsolicited piece from me – and never would have become the almost-author who wrote The Art of Client Service.

By any measure, these are modest accomplishments, but they make a point about how life-altering the impact of a single, great teacher can have on a student’s lifetime. 

Why bring this up now, you ask? 

I write this because I am both saddened, and heartened, by the news that my friend and fellow traveler Sally Webster is leaving the University of Canberra, in the capital of Australia, where for the past three years she has been a Lecturer in Advertising-Marketing Communication, and headed for the University of Victoria, in Melbourne, where she will assume much the same role, as Lecturer in Public Relations and Organizational Communications.  

I am not lucky enough to attend one of Sally’s classes in Client Relationship Management, — being 10,000 miles and 15 time zones away makes that a challenge — but I have nonetheless been fortunate to witness her total and complete dedication to her students, something they return in kind, judging from the emails I have received from them. 

Sally works incredibly hard to ensure those who attend her class will be inspired, challenged, and motivated.  And no one is more creative and resourceful when it comes to helping students prepare for the life that will follow school.

It’s no wonder that, among the roughly 1,500 people who teach at University, Sally is ranked second among the entire Arts & Design faculty of the University, and why she recently was named winner of the Vice-Chancellors’ Award for Teaching Excellence among “Early Career Academics”  (longwinded for an award, but even so, a source of major achievement).

What I find most impressive though, even more so than awards, is Sally’s uncommon recognition of the profound impact client relationships have on the quality of advertising and marketing.  In this regard she is a true pioneer, exploring what has largely been uncharted territory. 

You would think the University of Canberra would prize Sally’s contributions, acknowledge them, and strive to continue them.  Not so.  To the consternation of her students, her colleagues, and me, Sally was informed her contract would not be renewed.  The reason:  budget cuts.

I wrote about this earlier, in a post dated December 25.  If you’re curious, you can read it by clicking here.

When we think of education, we will, on occasion, speak of gifted students.  But I tend to think of gifted teachers instead.  My college professor, Claey, was one; Sally is another. 

The University of Victoria will soon benefit from Sally’s capacity to inspire.  The University of Canberra?  They don’t even know what they’ve lost.

I suspected I was on to a really big story when I posted, “Read this!” yesterday.  Confirmation came later, when Brian Williams of NBC Evening News made it the lead story in last night’s broadcast, and this morning when The New York Times gave it page one coverage. 

It seems like everyone has a point-of-view; I can only  hope that mine  — clients matter — doesn’t get lost in an avalanche of opinion.

Okay, on to other matters.

What I was about to post on yesterday addresses the topic above; with your permission, I’ll turn to that now.

Many of us tend to believe that pursuing new business is just that:  a pursuit.  And with work being so challenging these days, it is tempting to respond enthusiastically to virtually every new business prospect that marches an overture in the door. 

Not to be contrarian, but I take a different view; in fact, here’s what I said in a recent client presentation:

“The fact is, the most important decision you make is to turn down an opportunity, so you can focus time and attention on the pitches that truly matter.”

Yes, you read this right:  the best decision you make often is the client you choose to not pursue. 

Okay, you might say, this might be great in theory, but what about in practice?  Does the theory prove itself? 

I think it does, and here’s a story that (sort of) proves my point

A firm I work with was approached recently by a potential client that, at first glance, seemed to be a perfect fit.  The prospective client had a sound plan:  it started with an RFI sent to a long list of contenders, the responses to which would lead to a shorter list of serious suitors for in-depth, in-person meetings.  Selection of a winner would follow.

The RFI was thoughtful, detailed, and thorough (a nice word for long); contenders had roughly two weeks to submit responses.   

Unaccustomed to receiving requests like this, the head of the firm I work with called for help.  We agreed to meet face-to-face the following day to talk this through. 

We met.  We talked.  We talked some more.  A bit of hand wringing ensued.  To an outsider, it might have appeared frustrating as the team went back and forth, each weighing in with an opinion. 

Should we present, or shouldn’t we?  That was the question.

If the firm had no other obligations to address, the question would be rhetorical, the answer easy.  Instead, however, the team was deeply and thoroughly immersed in an assignment for an existing (meaning paying) client.  Add to this the reality that many of the questions on the RFI entailed detailed responses that required a good bit of time, effort, and research to complete.

We agreed to spend the balance of day to think about it, with me devoting time  to crafting a response RFI question number one, knowing I would face a good bit rewrite to get even this first answer right. 

At 9:00 pm that evening I got a telephone call.  The founder had decided to take a pass.  His rationale:  he and his colleagues were simply too busy; he didn’t want to distract his team, or himself, from the task at hand.  Equally important, he didn’t want to submit an RFI response that fell short of his own standards and expectations. 

This was not an easy decision to make – it is really, really hard to turn down an opportunity, not knowing if, when, and where the next one will come from — but clearly it was right one, given the circumstances. 

All that remained was to inform the prospective client who issued the RFI.  In this case we agreed that full disclosure was best:  the founder would tell his contact that an existing client was the priority; that client’s work needed attention, even if it meant foregoing a response to the RFI and passing on the opportunity to compete.

The founder made the call the following morning; his contact was understanding and gracious; the story ended on what felt like the right note. 

In reflecting on this, I am confident my client made the right decision, because we made it with an existing client’s interest in mind.  

No staffers were harmed in arriving at this decision.  No sleep was lost.  No unnecessary time was wasted.

In this case, at least, the theory of “just say no” became a reality that worked.

I was going to do a post today called, “The most important decision you’ll make in new business,” but I’ll save this for another day, mostly because I want you to click here to read this morning’s New York Times editorial by Greg Smith, called, “Why I am Leaving Goldman Sachs.”

I have long advocated the need to build trust with clients in order to succeed in advertising, but have felt the same is true with virtually any service business.  Today is Greg Smith’s last day as head of Goldman’s equity derivatives business in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa.  His editorial explains in detail why he is disillusioned with his former firm, but what struck me was this comment:

“It astounds me how little senior management gets a basic truth:  If clients don’t trust you they will eventually stop doing business with you.  It doesn’t matter how smart you are.”

I’m certain just about everyone in the financial services industry the world over is reading, discussing, and debating the merits of Smith’s story.  I want to be sure that if you are in advertising and marketing, you also read it, receive it, and act on its core message:  client relationships matter; serve them well and succeed, or serve them poorly and fail.

I wish I could assure you this post will be my last on simple ideas, but I’m afraid I can’t; there frankly are more than a few simple ideas worthy of praise, and I can’t promise you I won’t post on this subject again.

The surprise about today’s idea is it has little to do with advertising; instead, it’s about law enforcement.

Last week there was a page one New York Times obituary on Professor James Q. Wilson, a former Harvard University social sciences professor credited with the “Broken windows” theory of crime fighting.  If you’re a New Yorker, you know what I am talking about; you likely have been a beneficiary of Wilson’s thinking.  If you’re not a New Yorker, you might not be familiar with the concept, so here is Times writer Bruce Weber’s explanation of it:

“….when police emphasize the maintenance of order rather than the piecemeal pursuit of rapist, murderers and carjackers, concentrating on less threatening though often illegal disturbances in the fabric of urban life like street-corner drug-dealing, graffiti and subway turnstile-jumping, the rate of serious crime goes down.”

Wilson’s theory was adopted in the 1990s by former New York City Police Commissioner William J. Bratton and Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.  What happened next?  Crime went down.

It seems like a simple idea — fix a broken window, reduce serious crime — but what does it have to do with client service, you ask?

My answer:  we need our own “broken windows” theory of account management. 

If you work as an account person, you know how much emphasis your clients place on simple, routine matters.  Stuff like producing a workable schedule, formulating a good budget, issuing conference reports that are succinct and accurate, following up in a timely way, and handling the myriad, often mind-numbing daily details of overseeing an account.

If you perform these “broken windows” tasks consistently and well, your clients will come to depend on you, begin to respect you, possibly like you, and ultimately trust you.  The “like, respect, and trust” you earn over time will stand you and your agency in good stead in the times of discord that inevitably will arise in your client dealings. 

I’ve have been championing the virtues of simple ideas the past couple posts, and what I’m suggesting here – consistent attention paid to routine — would seem to run counter to that.  But the fact is, generating great ideas can be frustratingly hard.  And what happens when the idea well runs dry?

It is far easier to take care of account management housekeeping – to fix broken windows, so to speak – than it is to conceive of an idea that will drive a client’s business forward.   Great ideas might win new clients, but fixing broken windows will help keep them clients. 

Professor Wilson’s theory had a far more serious application than the one I’m envisioning – I’m talking advertising here, not crime prevention— but if you think about this, you begin to realize that fixing broken windows should result in higher client satisfaction and fewer client departures. 

Now, who wouldn’t want that?
 

Ever since my last post on Richard Clunan’s website for writers, Wordfruit, I have been thinking about simple ideas.

So I’m on a flight home from Punta de Mita, Mexico, where my wife Roberta and I have a place, with our two dogs, Alvin and Molly – known as “perritos” en Espanol – stowed beneath our feet. 

You wouldn’t think an airline would be known for simple ideas; they are as about as 1950 as you can get, especially Delta, the flight we’re on, which is singular in its backwardness.  But even Delta had the bright idea of charging for our dogs, 100% of which is profit, given they fly under the seat and weight a combined 20 lbs. 

We fly free on redeemed frequent flyer miles; our dogs cost $400.  There’s a perverse logic to this, of that I am sure.  A simple idea would be to allow us to redeem miles for our pets.  

There was another simple idea on this flight:  I ordered a roast beef sandwich for lunch ($6.25, by the way); with it came something unexpected.  Folded inside the plastic package was a square of wax paper.  Unfold it, and it becomes a placemat.  On that placemat is a step-and-repeat pattern of the Boar’s Head logo, with a “call-to-action” that reads, “Talk to us at Facebook or Twitter.”

Everyone knows how filthy most airline tray tables are.  Boar’s Head and Delta found a low-cost, useful way to solve the problem.  And all the while you are consuming your sandwich, you are reminded of your sponsor.

It’s a good idea.  It’s simple.  As I said before, most good ideas are simple.

Ideas are the currency we trade in.   Of course agencies expect creative people, or strategists, or planners, or media people to come up with great ideas.  But what really distinguishes extraordinary account people from their client service colleagues is their ability to formulate great ideas.

The problem is, in our zeal to contribute, we often over-reach.  We make idea generation far more complex and tortured than it need be.

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my years working in advertising and marketing, it is the best ideas are simple. 

Now, if only someone could design an airplane that would make boarding and leaving faster, that would be great, and get us out of the 1950s.  I’m sure there is an answer.

And I’m fairly sure it’s simple. 

Great art directors, for reasons I can’t explain, always seemed to be available for freelance or for hire. But writers? They’re different. It’s really difficult to find great writers.

When I went hunting for writers in the last century, I called friends for names — “Do you know anybody who does…?” — used word-of-mouth for referrals, and depended largely on luck and serendipity to find the right people. It was a hit-and-miss proposition, with emphasis on mostly on the miss.

The other day I received an email from a guy in Ireland named Richard Clunan. That Richard is from Ireland is unexpected and surprising enough. That he wrote to tell me about Wordfruit, a website he conceived and founded, devoted to writers and those seeking writers for jobs, is even more surprising.

A news release claims there are 423 writers profiled on the site. A visit to the site confirms how friendly and accessible it is to use. It costs writers nothing to post a profile. There are nominal fees for people searching for writers.

Wordfruit solves a problem. It’s a simple idea. And the best ideas are simple.