Adventures in Client Service

A Community of Friends.

Tue, 29 May 2012 23:07:00 -0400

If you’ve worked in advertising as long as I have, you likely have some fond memories of at least one of the organizations you did time with. For me, there actually are three firms that stand out.

The first is the agency you know as Digitas – I know it as Eastern Exclusives and later as Bronner Slosberg Associates – which gave me my (late) start in the business. That Digitas/Eastern Exclusives/Bronner Slosberg didn’t know at the time it was an agency is of little importance. It was a special place to work; sure, we were making it up as we went along, but there was something incredibly fearless about our approach to clients like American Express and AT&T.

The second was Foote, Cone & Belding, the first “real” agency at which I did a tour of duty. The office I called home, in San Francisco, did work that would rival anyone’s, for clients Levi Strauss, Pacific Bell, and Clorox, among others. Today it is merged with Draft and at best a shadow of its former self, but I was lucky enough to be there when it was a giant of an agency.

The third was Ammirati & Puris, inventors of BMW’s “Ultimate Driving Machine” tagline, renowned for true creative prowess, and filled with people of genuine distinction. My time at Ammirati was the best time I spent in advertising.

I’ve stayed in touch with friends from my those days – Vivian Young, Phil Palazzo, a few others – but the other day I received an email from an Ammirati alum, someone unexpected. Her name is Elena Shifflette.

Elena worked for Ammirati’s new business chief, Alyson Henning. She was one of a cadre of incredibly smart, unusually hardworking, and consistently steady and unflappable young people who collaborated with us on preparing for new business.

In those days presentation software was mostly beyond the skill set of people like me; Elena and her colleagues filled the gap. I remember working with her, side-by-side, to make changes to my new business presentations. More than once I called it a night the day before a pitch, knowing Elena and others on her team would get no sleep as they put the finishing touches on a presentation. It was one of several reasons why Ammirati was so formidable on pitch day.

What made Ammirati such an extraordinary agency wasn’t the senior leadership — although that by any measure that group was pretty impressive – no, it was what you might call the agency’s “bench.” Vast and deep, it was filled with people like Tom Sebok, Liz Deutch, Matt Welch, Ellen Wasserman, Peter Fekula, Kristi Faulkner, Andy Berndt, Sandy Sabean, Mike Aaron, Peter Leinroth, and dozens upon dozens of other incredibly talented, amazingly hardworking, and incredibly interesting people.

On Friday evenings many staffers would repair to the bar at Mesa Grill, on the first floor of the building where we worked, 100 Fifth Avenue, long before we relocated uptown. Now, it was the start of the weekend, and people could be just about anywhere in the world’s most entertaining city, but lots of folks chose to be start their weekend in an Ammirati melting pot, with people from all departments and all levels hanging out together. Why? Simple: they liked one another.

What made Ammirati special, I think, is that we took advertising very seriously, but didn’t take ourselves too seriously. We enjoyed making clients happy, we thrilled at doing great work.

And we had fun doing it. Sure there were office politics, runaway gossip, squabbling of all kinds – all the typical stuff you might expect at an agency or any great organization — but if you want to get a sense of what the agency was like, check out this 1996 holiday party video (is that Steve McCall playing guitar?). There are some inside jokes included that would take too long to explain, but even if you don’t get these, you still will come away with a sense of what it was like to work there.

So how did my old colleague Elena find me? LinkedIn, of course.

The genius of LinkedIn isn’t that it’s a job search site – I actually think it’s pretty lame in that regard – but instead is a way to reconnect with old friends. It helps you rediscover people like Elena, and reminds you that the best part of this business is that it is a community of friends.

Stay in school!

Wed, 23 May 2012 17:29:01 -0400

If you watched Sunday’s 60 Minutes interview with entrepreneur gazillionaire Peter Theil, you might have found attractive his belief that college is a waste of effort, with the money better spent on more productive endeavors. Theil is backing his theory by paying 20 people — all in their teens and twenties, all with promising ideas — $100,000 each not to attend college, but instead to develop those ideas.

By Theil’s definition, I am a failure, given I spent way too much money and time to learn way too little that is of use in my professional life.

Let me be a bit more specific. I attended a less than prestigious, mid-tier university (George Washington), where I studied nothing in particular and graduated with a degree of no consequence. I then went on to grad school (UNC) where I earned a Masters in something that almost anyone would consider the antithesis of a calling (English and American Literature).

I am not someone Peter Thiel would be likely to hold in high regard. But by most measures, I am not a complete failure either.

I’ve had a long and modestly successful career in advertising. If I succeeded at all, it is due to a number of factors: a willingness to work hard, a capacity to take risks, the counsel of good mentors. But there is one factor that stands out above all others: college.

I went to school not so much to learn, but rather how to think, how to be disciplined, how to solve problems. I learned how to write, how to research, how to collaborate with others, and most of all, how to forge relationships, all of which sustained me in my as I pursued my professional ambitions.

My school was as far from elite as you could imagine; to compensate, I chose a major, American Studies, that gave me the flexibility to select courses not by subject, but instead by teacher, which allowed me to study with some extraordinary professors. I made what to others seemed like odd choices, but to me, in retrospect, were brilliant, given they were made in the service of learning.

College costs way more than it should, and Theil has a point about the amount of debt students incur in the pursuit of a degree. But if I were attending school today and were pressed for funds, and not smart or athletic enough to warrant a scholarship, I would go to a state university where I would be recognized as a resident, greatly reducing my investment. If necessary, I would stay local, live at home, and commute, further reducing expense. If I needed extra cash, I would find a paying job.

Peter Thiel may be way smarter and more successful than me, and I am the first to admit what I’m suggesting here is far from data— it is an opinion of one — but looking back on my career, and with the context that comes with age, I am glad I went to and stayed in school.

And so, I hope, should you.

My apologies.

Tue, 22 May 2012 17:34:05 -0400

If you have been a regular visitor to Adventures, you surely know something is amiss with its design.

About a week ago, the site mysteriously reverted to what you see now, losing the design format that was custom-created prior to its launch.

Not only did Adventures fall victim to this mysterious ailment, it also infected my other two sites, the one devoted to my book, http://artofclientservice.com, the other devoted to my coaching and consulting practice, http://solomonstrategic.com. If you visit these, you’ll see they appear in what Tumblr refers to as “Default Redux,” which is even more unreadable than what’s on Adventures.

I’m working though the issue with Tumblr, hoping we can restore the proper design format.

Many thanks for your patience; my apologies for the site’s current appearance.

The King’s Speech.

Fri, 18 May 2012 17:26:01 -0400

In a previous post I pointed out I do not know JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon; my view of him as both a public and private person is entirely shaped by what I see, what I hear, and what I read. And from those observations I infer he is smart, decisive, and, when need be, unapologetically ruthless.

I do, however, know American Express CEO Ken Chenault; Ken was my client years ago, when he was a rising star within the company he now leads, and I served in client service at the agency you know as Digitas.

Although I have written several posts on Ken, he and I haven’t seen one another in more time than I care to admit. But the other day I made a point of attending a relatively intimate lunch event where Ken was the guest speaker. I went in the hope I simply might be able to say hello.

I did that, and more. I had the serendipitous good fortune to be outside the venue when Ken came in, giving me a chance to reintroduce myself. Ken either has an extraordinary memory or he is a very skilled actor, because he didn’t miss a beat; he immediately recognized me, extended a hand, and quickly eliminated any possibility of, “who are you again?” awkwardness.

That alone would signal a good day, with me declaring “mission accomplished,” but once inside the dining room, I managed to navigate my way to Ken’s table. Sitting close by, we had, at least for me, an absorbing trip down memory lane, reminiscing about executives we knew in common.

When it was time for Ken to speak, he opened by acknowledging three people who had been enormously important to him in his career. This was more than a passing, obligatory nod; it was, instead, a serious discussion of how these people contributed to his growth, why it mattered, and why he is grateful for their friendship. The audience, already on his side, was completely won over by his generosity and charm.

Then, in an easy conversation that was witty and informative, he spoke about his company. The thing that struck me was a simple insight: American Express is not in the payments business, it is in the service business, driven by forging trust – a word Ken invoked at least a dozen times, if not more —with its members and merchants.

If you are in the payments business, you care about transactions; if you are in the service business, you care about relationships. Sound familiar? I thought so.

Ken fielded question after question from the audience, taking time to address each one with patience and care. When it came time to say goodbye, Ken made a point of shaking hands with what seemed like everyone in the room. All of us felt acknowledged and included, me among them.

With Jamie Dimon, you get a sense you are dealing with two people, the savvy on camera persona, and a far less gracious private individual.

With Ken Chenault, the public person is no different from the private one. I suspect you deal with the same Ken, regardless of whether you are a fellow CEO, a head of state, or just a regular, everyday account person.

Now I freely admit a bias here, but in thinking in client service terms, if Jamie Dimon worked on my business, I would respect his intellect, but would hope to never have lunch with him.

If Ken Chenault worked on my business, I would surely respect his intellect, and would surely hope to have lunch with him.

Will the real banker please step forward?

Tue, 15 May 2012 22:13:58 -0400

So I watched this past Sunday’s David Gregory Meet the Press interview with Jamie Dimon. On screen, he is one impressive person: articulate, in command of the facts, forthright, and although he claims otherwise, very politically astute.

After I watched the show, I picked up the Sunday New York Times. On page one of the business section, there was a story by Gretchen Morgenson on Jamie Dimon and JP Morgan Chase’s $2 billion meltdown.

Morgenson was reporting on a private dinner party (for JPM’s high net worth clients), where Dimon aggressively attacked both the former Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volcker, and the current president of the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas, Richard Fishman. According to Morgenson, Dimon referred to the two men as “infantile” and “nonfactual,” and then continued by taking Fishman to task. Fighting words, by any measure.

If Morgenson is right, perhaps I have it wrong about Dimon’s political instincts.

Now, I don’t have a clue on what Dimon is really like, and I’m sure there are those who would claim there is little or no disconnect between JD’s public and private personas. But as someone devoted to client service, I do know what it means to have constancy of character.

What it means is you never, ever put yourself in a situation where others would question who you are, what you believe, and what you stand for. Instead, you present to the world a single face.

Consistency of character, something that transcends personality, is a hallmark of the business we are in. You are who you are, regardless of the venue, public or private, and who is present, large group or small. If you’re good at this, you don’t give in to sudden rage you can’t easily repair, wayward opinions you live to regret, or any other form of what might be considered erratic behavior. And the test of this — by a client, a colleague, or even a competitor — isn’t when things are going well; it is when they are not.

Jamie Dimon clearly is cut out for the work he does; his track record of ascendancy speaks for itself. And he surely will weather this latest tsunami; among other things, he is a survivor.

But as good and successful as he is as a banker, I’d have second thoughts about hiring him as a client service person. Being a banker these days is tough enough, but client service, at least how I define it, is far tougher.

The man who could do no wrong.

Sat, 12 May 2012 13:21:00 -0400

We advertising people used to be at the lowest rung of any professional work hierarchy, at best a bit ahead of attorneys and used car salesmen in terms of respect and admiration. But after the financial meltdown of 2008, most people wound up hating bankers even more than advertising people.

There was one banker, though, who seemingly escaped judgment: Jamie Dimon, CEO of the largest U.S. bank, JP Morgan Chase. Where others faltered, Jamie Dimon excelled, especially at managing risk; he was able to navigate his bank through a crisis that crippled competitors. He was the god of banking.

How quickly things can change.

I thought it might have been a slow news day when I read Friday’s New York Times cover story that JP Morgan Chase had lost $2 Billion – yes that’s right, billion, not million – on trades that went bad. Then I saw it was the lead in The Wall Street Journal. That evening Brian Williams opened with the story on NBC’s national news broadcast. Tomorrow Jamie Dimon will be interviewed by David Gregory on Meet the Press.

This is, by any measure, a monumental screw-up, with Jamie Dimon coming in for some well-deserved criticism from all quarters. But if you work in client service, you inevitably will think like me, and turn this massively rotten lemon of a problem into lemonade, extracting from it these three life lessons:

The first is to recognize how mercurial and fleeting success can be. Jamie Dimon – does anyone ever refer to him by just his last name – went from hero to villain in what appeared to be an instant. The problem, of course, took far longer than an instant to incubate, but the message that you can erode or even destroy your reputation with one big misstep is a sobering reminder that fame is perishable.

The second point is to quickly admit the error and take full and unmistakable ownership of it. With Dimon – there, I just used his last name, a first – there was no effort to evade the truth. Instead, he said, “There were egregious mistakes. They were self-inflicted and this is not how we want to run a business. The bank’s strategy was, “flawed, complex, poorly reviewed, poorly executed, and poorly monitored.”

Dimon didn’t stop there; he continued with, “Just because we’re stupid doesn’t mean everybody else was,” taking blame for what happened, rather than deflecting it to market shifts or trading reverses. “We will admit it, we will fix it, and we will move on,” he vowed.

The third point comes as a bit of conjecture, stemming from a, “first time, it’s shame on you; second time, it’s shame on me” point. Time will demonstrate if this theory proves correct, but I am fairly certain that a loss like this will not happen again… ever. Dimon will fix this. He will assess the problem, assign blame, then execute the perpetrators through job termination.

Sure, you could say Dimon has no blood in his veins, but by acknowledging blame in an uncompromising way, then moving quickly to address it, the bank will get through this, and that’s the message you might want to take from this the next time you confront a problem with a client or colleague.

To this there is only one other thing I can add: thank god for bankers.

Now for something really boring.

Fri, 04 May 2012 17:51:00 -0400

This happened years ago at the agency you know as Digitas—I recall it as Bronner Slosberg Associates — but I still quite vividly remember walking into my creative director colleague Christine Bastoni’s office and finding that one of the agency’s account people, Lisa Phildius, was working with her on some numbers. I thought they were pulling together a fee estimate, or perhaps were going over a budget reconciliation; I was wrong.

Lisa was helping Christine fill out her time sheets. Yes, that’s right, her time sheets.

Now, this was not a Shona Seifert, screw-the-client-go-to-jail moment; there was absolutely no intent to deceive. This was, instead, a need to reconstruct, a challenge made even more daunting in that Christine didn’t need to fill in a week’s worth of time; instead, she was in search of a month’s time, if not more. Lisa, good account person that she was, was there to encourage, help, and record.

If this already weren’t a hill too large to climb, it was made even steeper by the fact that Christine worked on at least three accounts, for which she oversaw scores of projects, each with its own project fee estimate. She literally needed to figure out, hour-by-hour, day-by-day, week-by-week, how much time she devoted to each.

Sound impossible? Yes.

Seem ridiculous? Check.

Happen often? You bet.

I wish this were a once-in-a-lifetime story, but, sadly, it is not. Agencies the world over grapple with a challenge: how to accurately record and reflect time dedicated to client work.

The reason I raise this now is the other day I was on a gig at an agency when I was approached by a young, talented account person for advice: “Robert, I have a question — how do you handle time sheets?”

My answer is surprisingly simple; I record my time sheet every day. That’s it. Nothing fancy, nothing exotic; just plain old-fashioned record-and-add at work.

In the evening, before I leave for the day – it could be 7:00 pm, in the past it could be 7:00 am — I record my time, but not on a time sheet. Instead, I list hours, in quarter-hour increments, in my Microsoft Outlook Calendar. I not only include the time spent, but I also write a short description of what I did during that time: write a creative brief, participate in a client call, attend a meeting on work we’re doing, that kind of stuff.

I’d then transfer those hours to a time sheet. If I was out of the office, I would jot down my hours in longhand, then transfer them to Outlook and my timesheet on my return.

I relied on this routine for three reasons:

1. I have a mind like a sieve; if I waited even a day, I had a hard time remembering the time I spent and how I spent it. The longer I went without recording my time, the more useless my mind became in summoning up the recent past with any degree of accuracy.

2. If a client asked me a question about my time, I would be able to answer it accurately in some detail, and with the conviction that accompanies evidence.

3. Above all, I appreciated what my time sheet represented: a paycheck, pure and simple. Those hours I spent get converted to money I use to pay the rent.

Every agency I know grapples with this issue. I worked at one agency that attempted to bribe people to fill out their timesheets by offering people a reward – a “transit check” redeemable for public transportation — for timesheet compliance. Did it work? Kind of, but as agency chief I still had to walk the halls, practically begging people to record and turn in their time.

At another agency I worked at I would use our regular, company-wide staff meetings to gently embarrass people into submitting their time. At whom was I directing a cold stare? Not junior people, not people you might suspect. This crime tends to be far more democratic. Department heads, people who know how important time reporting is, were among the worst offenders.

But here’s the thing: it takes all of five minutes to record your time once a day. With jobs harder to come by, with clients scrutinizing their agencies more closely than ever, this to me seems like a complete no brainer.

And yet, if you talk to anyone working in advertising, I will bet that recording and collecting time in order to bill clients in a timely and accurate way remains a problem without a solution. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it?

So, what could be more boring than a post about timesheets? Nothing.

And what is more important to an agency than the accurate and timely collection of the hours people spend working for their clients? Nothing.

I rest my case.

Client service from another point-of-view.

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 20:11:13 -0400

Just about everyone I know has a definition of what it means to provide great client service, but if you want to see this from a different perspective, watch Charlie Rose’s interview with restaurateur Danny Meyer, owner of New York City’s Union Square Café, Grammercy Tavern, Blue Smoke, North End Grill, the restaurants in the Whitney and the Museum of Modern Art, and the Shake Shack chain.

The terminology might be different, but the spirit of serving clients well remains the same. What I like best about the conversation is Meyer’s distinction between “service,” meaning what his people do to deliver a product – and “hospitality,” meaning how his people make clients feel.

That sounds like client service to me, expressed in the context of working in a restaurant, not in an advertising agency. To me, both are noble callings.

The interview lasts 26 minutes and is more than worth the time to watch.

That job I mentioned.

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 18:04:00 -0400

In case you missed this in my last post, my friend and Womenkind founder Kristi Faulkner is looking for an account director. If you’re interested, follow this link to more information and an opportunity to apply. Womenkind is unlike any other agency I know, and is very much worth a look.

Kristi’s email also made a couple of suggestions for blog posts, one of which is, “10 qualities to look for in an account person.”

I’m not sure what Kristi means when she says, “qualities,” but I do know I wrote a book that had 58 guidelines for account people and still didn’t cover all the bases, which is why this blog is helpful. If nothing else, it helps me fill in the blanks on items I overlooked or neglected.

Still, I take Kristi’s question seriously. If I had my druthers, I would formulate a single, unified rule that governs all of account management. I am, sadly, not that smart.

I did, however, streamline my often tortured thinking into three governing principles, which is a bit of an evolution from where I was at when I wrote the current edition of The Art of Client Service:

 The first is great account people should follow the “Broken Windows” theory, which means doing the expected things – formulating an accurate budget, creating a detailed and realistic schedule, writing a concise and timely conference report — with unrelenting consistency.

 The second is to adhere to belief that relationships built on trust matter, because great relationships lead to great work. I wrote a book on the subject; you might read it if you haven’t done so already.

 The third is to master to maddening intricacies of new business, because it is in this highly compressed, big-stakes arena where great account people separate themselves from account people who are merely good. I’ve written a ton of workshop material on the subject; if you’re interested, email me for more details at robert@solomonstrategic.com.

Client service is a hard business to master, made even more challenging by radical changes in how consumers of all types engage with brands.

For the fearful, it can be overwhelming; for the courageous, it can be an invigorating opportunity to learn.

“It seems so simple; why is it so hard?!?”

Fri, 20 Apr 2012 14:17:00 -0400

I can’t believe how much time has passed since I wrote a post called, “My conviction about conviction,” in which I refer to the writer Matt Beaumont’s book, E with the comment, “were we ever as evil as he makes us seem?”

The “we” in this case was a reference to account people; Beaumont’s portrayal made it seem as if account people come equipped with sharp horns and fiery pitchforks.

But Beaumont’s novel is a trifle compared with what I saw earlier this week on AMC’s show Mad Men. Like just about everyone in the known advertising universe, I am an avid follower of the show. What I find appealing about it is show runner Matthew Weiner’s ability to portray his characters as deeply flawed and vulnerable, yet at the same time make them noble and at least occasionally selfless. It’s as if there’s a rule that bad people can still do good things.

There is one apparent exception to this, though: the agency’s lead account person, Pete Campbell. In the most recent episode we see him covet a high school girl, sleep with a prostitute, sell out a colleague, and even fail to repair the plumbing in his kitchen. He’s small minded, devious, untrustworthy, unfaithful, and a coward. The other characters have redeeming qualities to counter-balance their faults; Campbell has none. He’s evil in both small and big ways.

Still, even this left me unprepared me for the round of fisticuffs between Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce’s financial guy, Lane Pryce, and Campbell.

In a partners’ meeting, they argue about an account; Lane takes offense and literally “calls out” Campbell. After a bit of silliness — these guys are hardly the thuggish type — Pryce knocks Campbell to the floor.

I can imagine nothing more humiliating than an account guy being punched out by a finance guy, who’s a milk toast in his own right. But the scene portrays Lane as brave, principled, and sympathetic, if a bit bumbling and foolish. Pete Campbell? He’s a snake.

The episode left me with a mixture of contempt and sadness. If Pete Campbell is meant to represent me, and all the other account people in advertising; I have to ask, am I really as dishonorable as a Pete Campbell? And what about my colleagues?

Then I received an email from my friend, former colleague, and founder of the agency Womenkind, Kristi Faulkner, who is in the market for a couple of account people. Kristi wrote:

“I’m convinced that acct director is the hardest job on earth. Judging from the resumes I’ve been getting, everyone thinks they can do it. As long as they’ve had a client — as in media sales, media planning, etc — people think they’re qualified to do the job. People don’t realize what a 360 degree challenge it is!

“…effective account management is a intellectually demanding job that requires one to be a ringmaster, a quarterback, a shrink, a cheerleader, a peace negotiator, a political strategist, a public defender and a field Marshall all in one. Not many people have the unique combination of skills it takes to do it well without cracking. The pressure is enormous, and good account people sweat every detail without letting anyone ever see them sweat.”

Coming from a copywriter, the admission that being an account director is, “the hardest job on earth” made me feel better. The fact is, it doesn’t matter if the writer is Kristi, or a supportive Martin Puris, who I quote on page 89 of my book, or a steadfast Peter Van Bloem, a writer who has been loyal advocate, or any other creative person who recognizes how hard it is to be good at this job.

Why do I feel this way? The answer, I think, lies in a letter of praise Ogilvy Chair Shelly Lazarus wrote me after my first book came out: “It seems so simple… why is it so hard?!?”

You know what? Shelly is right. It is hard; it is especially hard to maintain a sense of honesty, decency, and respect when things are going to shit all around you.

But I digress; back to the show.

Just about every character on Mad Men despises Pete Campbell. If there is an exception, it probably is embodied in Don Draper, who has grown to respect Campbell, who recognizes his value, and who, at least on one occasion, actually stepped in to protect him from an angry Roger Sterling. Draper, as all of you know, is a copywriter.

In some cases, art does imitate life.

A force for good.

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 13:43:47 -0400

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.

An accidental profession.

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 22:39:00 -0400

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.

A sense of place.

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 21:26:00 -0400

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.

The most important client in the world.

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 12:04:39 -0400

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.

The gift of teaching.

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 13:52:15 -0400

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.

Just say no.

Thu, 15 Mar 2012 17:50:00 -0400

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.

Read this!

Wed, 14 Mar 2012 12:28:37 -0400

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.

Yet another simple idea.

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 21:32:59 -0500

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?

Another simple idea.

Mon, 05 Mar 2012 17:47:12 -0500

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.

One way to find great writers.

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 11:39:06 -0500

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.