Cover: Stop Listening to the Customer: Try hearing your brand instead by Adam Ferrier with Jen Flemming

Before We Begin, A Bit About You

Hi. Good to see you've got this book in your hand and reading this page. The thing is, I know nothing about you – and I have no idea what's brought you to this moment where you are standing (Sitting? Lying?) here reading this page. I didn't do any market research, I didn't ask anyone if they wanted a book like this, I didn't even have a ‘target market' in mind when I wrote it. 

When publishing a book the publisher will always ask the hopeful author ‘Who's the target market?'. I'm not sure what I said, but I know I lied as to the audience for this book and the motivations for buying it. You might be someone in the market research industry outraged by the title; you may be a small business owner wanting to know how to build a brand centric business; you could be a marketer or a CEO empathising with the title; or you could be my wife, Anna, supporting me. Or you might be someone completely different.

I didn't listen to the customer (possibly you) when I wrote this book, but the fact you are reading this is just the smallest evidence point to suggest I was right about not doing so.

Anyway, enough with the smug, circular arguments, I hope you enjoy Stop Listening to the Customer: Try hearing your brand instead – whoever you are.

Sign of Author Adam Ferrier
Adam Ferrier

Title Page: Stop Listening to the Customer: Try hearing your brand instead By Adam Ferrier with Jen Flemming

dedications and thanks

This book is dedicated to Anna, Asterix and Arturo. Thank you for everything. You're my number one. Anna, I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and bought a grate for the fireplace. The hole in the floorboards caused by the flying bit of wood could have been avoided if I had just heard you. Asterix, I'm also sorry for not listening to you. That same hole could have been avoided if I'd raised my head when you warned me there was smoke coming from the floor. I'll do my best to look up next time.

On another note, I want to thank my business partners, everyone I work with at Thinkerbell and our clients. In two short years, you've given me so many great ideas to write about.

Thanks to the incredible team at Wiley, especially Lucy Raymond for liking the idea of ‘Hey big nose' and helping make this project happen. To the brilliant and sensitive editor, Allison Hiew. To the hardcore cognitively ambidextrous Chris Shorten, thanks for pulling the whole thing together. To my co-writer Jen Fleming, who is beyond skilled at deciphering ‘Ferrier'. This book would have been twice as long if you hadn't chopped my words.

preface
getting from awkward to awesome

My parents sent me to a prestigious private school in Perth called Scotch College, which is the type of school attended by today's leaders of tomorrow and where boys become men. I never saw myself as one of tomorrow's leaders. Here's a story that sums up my school experience. (Brace yourself: it's a good one.)

My mother (oh god, I'm already talking about Mum and I haven't even started the book) had what can only be described as a laissez-faire approach to parenting. I was pretty much a free-range kid with very few boundaries. I didn't wear shoes and never changed my clothes. I'd wear the same outfit for weeks on end. Yes, I slept, went to school, slept, went to school in the same clothes. Bath night was the first night of the month. ‘Kids don't get dirty,' my mum would say, even as my skin became progressively darker as the month went on. When I came home from school, I ate cereal or a big bowl of defrosted frozen peas. I didn't do any homework. During my years at primary school, I was always in trouble because I did my own thing. My parents loved me, but my home life was somewhat unconventional. (If you're wondering why such laidback parents sent me to Scotch, my theory is it came down to the ‘price placebo effect' – the more you pay, the better you think it will be.)

Scotch College had a uniform, including a tie and shoes. Socks had to be pulled up, shirt tucked in, all of that. None of which worked for me. My uniform was a hand-me-down with buttons missing, my shirt was always out, and my tie would never do up properly. I looked incredibly dishevelled, which accurately reflected my attitude at school. I was the classic rebel without a cause, constantly in trouble and always at odds with the teachers and other students. I was smart enough, but my grades suffered — considerably.

Even though I loved sport and drama, I wasn't very good at either. If you did drama classes at Scotch, you were committing yourself to years of bullying hell. Asthma made me a poor runner. A lack of self-discipline meant I couldn't stick at anything. In year 10 I made the tennis team but was kicked off for fighting with another team member.

You should be getting a picture of someone who was not at their best at school. Throughout this tumultuous period in my life, most of the teachers were blasé about my performance. Thirty other kids in the class needed attention. I don't think the teachers enjoyed watching my pain, but they were certainly indifferent. And then, after five years of this mayhem (in my mind), something odd and rather cruel happened. It was the last day of school — muck-up day.

For the final assembly, all 140 boys in our house squashed into a crowded science lab — that's 140 boys sitting, standing, sweating — a coliseum of testosterone. The housemaster was a nice enough guy, a well-known former squash champion and diligent teacher. I always found him to be reasonable, and the other students loved him. He was very athletic and sported a thick, macho moustache. On this last day of school, for reasons I'll never know, he began the final homeroom meeting by saying, ‘Adam Ferrier, could you please come down here and stand next to me?' As I made my way to the front of the class, I wondered if I'd done something worthy of merit. When I got to the front of the room, he ushered me to stand right next to him. He then placed one hand on my shoulder and in front of a silent room, he said, ‘Everyone look at Adam Ferrier. Don't forget him. Adam is the perfect example of someone whose parents have wasted their money sending their son to a school like Scotch.'

Standing there, no doubt with my shirt hanging out and socks down, I felt embarrassed and confused — although I'm sure I managed to put a stupid smirk on my face. I don't remember if the other boys laughed at this; after his opening remarks, the rest was a bit of a blur. Perhaps they were just as shocked as I was at the teacher's brutality. Why did he do this? Maybe he was using me to motivate the other boys. It hurt because it was clear he assumed I was completely useless. He thought that because I didn't fit in with the school system I had wasted my opportunities, and that, because I didn't conform and demonstrate my leadership potential, my parents had wasted their money.

Although I didn't enjoy high school one bit, it solidified my character and conviction. I distrust authority and structure, and value forging my own path. These values are neither good nor bad, right nor wrong. But they sit nicely with me. My parents didn't waste their money sending me to Scotch; not fitting in was, and remains, my virtue. It just took time for me to realise this.

Fast forward to many years after finishing school. By now, I've achieved some success in advertising. I've won awards and recognition, and regularly speak at conferences and in the media — becoming (some might say) an industry expert. I'm also happily married to a wonderful woman, Anna, and we have two amazing boys, Asterix and Arturo. So, you could say in some respects I've got my shit together. Recently, I was the keynote speaker at an advertising conference, and my presentation went well. The following day I received an email in my inbox that read:

Hi Adam,

I was at the talk last night and what you said really touched me. You are obviously a really awkward guy but have somehow turned awkward into awesome.

As a somewhat awkward art director myself, I'm wondering what advice you might have for me and my career in advertising?

I love this email. It was an external validation of something I worked out years ago. My housemaster was wrong. Sure, I didn't fit in and couldn't be contained. But I didn't waste my opportunities at Scotch. I'm still dishevelled, and I still have terrible organisational and management skills. But I've done my own thing, trodden my scrappy path and, as that lovely chap put it, turned awkward into awesome (if not humble!).

What's the usual advice to outsiders? Fit in and conform. Be like everyone else. This is terrible advice for people and, as I'll argue in this book, terrible advice for brands too. Unfortunately, the more opinions we gather, the more voices we listen to, the stronger the inexorable force drawing us towards mediocrity and away from what makes us unique. There is an alternative. In addition to accepting who you are, I reckon you should dial up your difference and your distinctiveness.

Allow me to switch our focus now to brands and business. For some time now, there's been an obsession with asking the customer what they want. In my view, customers shouldn't be your driving force. Instead, you should focus on defining a clearly articulated brand that sets you apart. If you listen to the customer, the brand will become like other brands. Generic.

I've always prided myself on holding different and unconventional ideas. However, it's difficult to swim against the strong currents of conformity. At its heart, this book makes a case for ignoring others' opinions and following your path.

Adam Ferrier
January 2020

Introduction

If a good brand is a promise, then a great brand is a promise kept. I don't know who came up with this saying. Many moons ago, I quoted it during a workshop and it kind of stuck. But I stole it from someone else, and the internet attributes the phrase to many. Either way, I like it, and it works. A brand signifies to a consumer that the good or service they are looking for is available. Inherent in a brand is a promise to deliver a set of values or benefits. The more a brand delivers on its promise, the stronger that brand becomes.

Brand valuation estimates the financial value of the brand. Companies such as Interbrand, Brand Finance and Kantar specialise in measuring the economic contribution a brand makes to a business. According to Kantar, the top 100 global brands had a combined value of US$4.7 trillion in 2019.1 The top 10 brands were Apple, Amazon, Google, Microsoft, Visa, Facebook, Alibaba, Tencent, McDonald's and AT&T. Many argue that the brand is the most critical part of a company and that divorcing the brand from the company is futile because, if done well, the brand is the company.

Seth Godin is a US marketing expert who summarises brand value in this way:

A brand's value is merely the sum total of how much extra people will pay, or how often they choose, the expectations, memories, stories and relationships of one brand over the alternatives.

It's not the supply chain, staff, marketing, machines or capital expenditure, networks or the things they make. The value — the thing that people pay for — is called ‘brand equity'. This is the value people ascribe to the brand over and above an unbranded copycat alternative. ‘Brand value' is an inward-looking term, meaning the value the organisation puts on the brand. If you're an old-school accountant (and I can't imagine there are many reading this book), brand value roughly translates as ‘goodwill', the intangible value in a company that permeates everything it does. If that argument doesn't cut it for you, try iconic punk songwriter and performer Patti Smith's take on it. In a short sentence she distills the difference in value from what one does (music), to asking the big question: ‘Rock and roll is dream soup. What's your brand?'

But my intention isn't to convince you about the value of brands. I'm imagining you've come to this book knowing a bit about marketing and branding. Instead, I want to explore how businesses inadvertently devalue brands and make them generic. It's a significant issue in the world of marketing at the moment. If you own a company, business or brand or have a degree of influence over a brand, then look at what you can do to maintain a robust, distinctive and ultimately valuable brand. You see, the world of branding has become a little screwed up. When a business isn't clear about its brand, it risks becoming generic and leaving money on the table. I believe the main reason businesses are doing this is because they're listening to the one person they shouldn't. The customer.

textbreak with three plus signs

Years ago, I worked at the legendary advertising agency Saatchi & Saatchi (the only advertising agency your parents have heard of) and Old El Paso was one of my first accounts. In a nice twist of fate, I'm working with the brand again. When Saatchi signed on, the team had a three-day induction with Old El Paso's parent company, General Mills. At the end of the first day, we watched a video that showcased the wonderful achievements of General Mills during its century of operation. I haven't forgotten the dramatic voice-over at the end of the video proclaiming something to the effect of ‘the company's brand is now in your hands, so please don't stuff it up'. I loved the honesty of this corporate video despite the abrupt ending. My take-home message was that brands can't just tick along on their own. They need to be managed, and, if poorly managed, they'll die.

A brand is both valuable and sensitive. It's difficult and expensive to create a brand that stands for something in a consumer's mind. This understates the challenge. Many elements need to go right to create a brand that's motivating, credible and differentiated. It needs to create strong associations, be salient and leave the impression that the brand will help satisfy wants and needs. In prioritising the customer, and taking a customer-led approach, I worry it's at the expense of brand-led thinking. And it's making brands less robust. This book will reveal why brands are becoming weaker and less valuable and how marketers are losing their nerve. It's not all doom and gloom with advice and suggestions for how to build strong brands.

This book includes interviews with industry leaders, research from marketing sciences, anecdotes from my life as a psychologist and advertiser and a fair whack of pure opinion. I've thrown each of these ingredients into a mixing bowl, given them a stir, baked them in the oven and plated up. I hope the result is a tasty, satisfying dish.

Apparently on the outside of a building of the University of Chicago is a plaque that reads, ‘Within these walls contain no wisdom. Only the ability to weigh and consider'. Whether or not this plaque actually exists, the message applies to these pages as well. I've structured the book as follows:

The Background:

The Issue:

The Hope:

The Solution:

A Final Word:

Experts I've spoken to or exchanged emails with include Australian tennis legend John Newcombe; celebrity turned technology entrepreneur Jules Lund; vice chair of Ogilvy, Rory Sutherland; Australia's current number one chief marketing officer, Lisa Ronson; marketing sciences sensei Wiemer Snijders; and founder of pleasure business OMGyes, Rob Perkins. To you, and others who appear throughout this book, thank you for your time and insights.

A confession

You might think it's slightly worrying that this book is by someone who's built a career on consumer insights and used those insights to inform strategy. I've insisted my companies have research capabilities, including a focus group room within the agency, and my current company, Thinkerbell, is no exception. The room has ultra-high-fidelity sound and a one-way mirror. However, the name of the insights and research business is ‘Hocus Focus' — a nod to the fact that even though research purports to be the truth, it's often a sleight of hand or just plain wrong. Research can be useless and, in the wrong hands, it can get in the way.

Also, as a consumer psychologist, you'd think I'd take the consumer more seriously. I've witnessed the creation of many superfluous and mind-numbing insights and research reports. It's okay to be bored; sometimes you need to sit through the boring bits to find new things or unlock new opportunities. The problem is these insights are often detrimental to brands.

The premise of this book is simple. Rather than listening to the consumer, try hearing your brand instead. Rather than consumer-led thinking, use brand-led thinking. Rather than being customer-obsessed, be brand obsessed. Rather than build human intelligence, build brand intelligence. What is brand intelligence? It's the ability of an individual or organisation to understand and prioritise the strength of the brand above everything else. The reason for this is straightforward — brand-led thinking builds a stronger, more valuable business. The formula my agency, Thinkerbell, uses is BXB4CX (or Brand Experience before Customer Experience). I explain this fully in chapter 7.

Finally, is it ‘customer' or ‘consumer'? Marketing is interested in both, and often they are one and the same. A customer is someone who buys the products or services, a consumer is the person who uses (or consumes) them. You can be both a customer and consumer, and the terms are often interchangeable. I use the description that feels most correct at the time of writing, which is normally ‘consumer'. The other point to make is some people in marketing and business like to use the term ‘human' or ‘people' — which, of course, customers and consumers are. Marketers ultimately want people (or humans) to buy and use what we make, so I think it's a little disingenuous to call them ‘people'.

Creating demand is vital for brands, whether it's encouraging consumers to buy more, or more consumers to buy or to pay more. Brands want demand-driven growth. To make sure your brand is relevant or motivating to consumers, who better to ask? The consumer, right? Wrong. Paradoxically this is where it starts to unravel. If you ask the consumer, listen to them and act on their advice, without prioritising the brand, then I'm sorry to say, but you're likely to be the architect of brand and business decline.

Note

  1. 1 Kantar (2019). ‘Brandz top 100 most valuable global brands 2019'. http://online.pubhtml5.com/bydd/ksdy/#p=18