JWT’s AnxietyIndex is designed as a place to discuss how brands and consumers are responding to the global recession. With daily content updates, AnxietyIndex.com includes contributions from around JWT’s network, offering a truly global perspective.
It’s well-known that consumers have been less loyal to name brands, switching over to private label in an effort to pinch pennies. They’ve been cutting corners anyplace they can, especially on items they’re going to throw away—like garbage bags.
When Hefty first came out with its Odor Block bags, it touted the bags’ ability to block the stink of garbage. Now, Hefty’s commercials have a twist: A woman wants her husband to throw out a trash bag that’s barely full because it stinks; her husband says, “That’s wasting money” and “Wasting money stinks.” So not only does garbage stink, but wasting money does too—and Hefty Odor Block protects against both! And does it with “new lower prices.”
This is smart thinking, killing two birds with one stone by adding value in consumers’ minds.
In a full-page New York Times ad that ran earlier this week, the New York branch of steakhouse chain Smith & Wollensky declared that if it can’t get its hands on customers’ cash, it will take their stock options. Its tongue-in-cheek “Steak for Stock” special calls for steak lovers to swap NYSE and NASDAQ certificates for equally acronymic USDA dry-aged steaks.
While Wall Street bonuses have traditionally funded blow-out meals at such restaurants, this year many bankers are getting company shares rather than cash. The ad pokes fun at the fact that Smith & Wollensky’s core clientele is no longer knee-deep in bonus money, saying that “the effects on the local economy could be catastrophic, leaving large tracts of land in the Hamptons and Martha’s Vineyard undeveloped.” Actual “Steak for Stock” trades are unlikely, as the registered owner of the stock must present the original certificate. But the ad insists customers take the promotion to heart, adding that the restaurant will “even accept GM.”
It’s an over-the-top approach reminiscent of the “Expense-a-Steak” promotion from Midtown steakhouse Maloney & Porcelli, which provided a site that generated fake receipts so that corporate clients could return to the upscale dining venue. This tactic boldly connects not only with bankers coming to terms with a new financial equation but also with other anxious New Yorkers, who can use a good laugh when thinking about the crisis.
As we’ve noted, a couple of recent commercials are tapping into today’s populist sentiment. Hyundai does a good job of this in a recent spot for the popular Assurance Program, hammering home its commitment to the little guy. While “the dust has started to settle, and some indicators are up—especially for the big guys,” Hyundai understands that many people are still anxious. So it’s sticking with its Assurance Program, reassuring viewers that “The economy hasn’t really turned around for any of us until it turns around for all of us.”
An Ad Age article, “Now’s the Time to Reset Marketing for Post-Recession,” cites this spot as an example of messaging that “bridge[s] from recession to recovery.” But a real recovery isn’t likely to happen soon—as we noted in our 10 trends for the year ahead, consumer spending in 2010 will look very much as it did last year, with people continuing to exercise restraint until they see more clear and dependable signs of stability. By addressing the current sense of instability—and the resulting anxiety—head on, Hyundai offers yet another example of smart marketing in a downturn.
The global recall of Toyota vehicles over a gas pedal problem is a case that will be interesting to watch over the coming weeks. How will consumers respond to a deeply trusted brand with a long history of success like Toyota suddenly failing on the public stage? Whether we like it or not, the rhythm of our lives is deeply linked to the brands we patronize. And if a brand as trusted as Toyota can fail its customers, who knows what’s next? It’s enough to make people anxious about brands. Especially given that faith in corporate institutions is already weak, with huge, seemingly solid financial brands having collapsed (e.g., Lehman Brothers) or come close (e.g., Merrill Lynch).
Some Americans have already taken action on their own through www.toyotarecall.org, an unofficial portal for all things on the recall. Toyota, your move.
We just wrote about the irony of multinational big-box retailer Office Depot casting its lot with the little guy in a somewhat shameless bid to tap into populist zeal. By contrast, Miller Life will run regional Super Bowl ads that showcase a more authentic effort to align with the Main Street America ethos.
“This year the brand is giving its Big Game commercial to deserving small businesses from around the country,” reads Miller High Life promotional copy. “The ad … reinforces that Miller High Life isn’t just about brewing a good, honest beer at a tasty price, it’s about helping others live the High Life as well.” Spots will highlight four businesses (Loretta’s Authentic Pralines in New Orleans, etc.).
A teaser ad cleverly positions this Super Bowl advertiser as standing apart from “those big muckety-muck companies [that] prance out those fancy-pants commercials.” The tone is spot-on, as is the approach (positioning the effort as socially responsible). And it’s the perfect time for a brand that has long cultivated a blue-collar image to play on populist sentiment.
The downturn brought a wave of populist fury, stirred up by the good guys/bad guys notion of Wall Street vs. Main Street. But while that fury is now set at simmer, big business remains woefully unpopular—and so in a new commercial, Office Depot harnesses some populist zeal for itself and casts its lot with the little guy.
But Office Depot is a Wall Street-traded big box chain, right? Not so fast. A recent TV spot features Dan, a small-town barber, whose shop is threatened when a large chain moves in across the street offering $6 cuts. So Dan heads to Office Depot for a banner that reads “We fix $6 haircuts.” The banner really sticks it to “Nitro Cutz,” which papers its windows five months later, a satisfying reversal of fortune for Dan.
By casting itself as a Main Street ally, Office Depot slyly gets viewers to forget that it’s a large multinational chain whose low, low prices have put independent stores out of business. Now that’s a reversal.
A growing number of people are finally finding the time to “write that book” after losing their jobs during the recession—enter what has been coined “layoff lit.” The New York Times’ Motoko Rich recently wrote about current layoff lit titles such as Slow Love: How I Got Kicked Off the Fast Track, Put My Pajamas on for a Year & Found Happiness, from former House & Garden editor Dominique Browning, and The Bag Lady Papers: The Priceless Experience of Losing It All, by former Self magazine editor Alexandra Penney.
The theme here seems to be finding the silver lining of starting over. As Matt Buchanan points out in The Sydney Morning Herald, George Clooney’s character in Up in the Air follows a similar narrative, reminding a distraught man he’s laying off about his love of cooking—“his sacking is an opportunity to reset his priorities, to choose to do what he loves to do—to cook again.”
The idea that there’s an upside to the downturn is certainly appealing, and brands such as Allstate are doing well to tap into it.
The recession saw many consumers postpone big-ticket purchases, a challenge that electronics chain Best Buy is addressing with its novel Pitch In card. Think bridal registry meets microfinancing meets layaway. Best Buy terms it “easy group gifting.”
Customers looking for help financing a purchase create a Pitch In card along with a Best Buy wish list, which they share with friends and family. Gift-givers can contribute payments ranging from $5 to $9,999.99. “It’s the perfect way to get that big Wish List item you’ve been dreaming of,” says Best Buy on its Web site.
Recently we’ve seen a rise in collective action, with people increasingly understanding that every bit counts in addressing today’s big issues, from the economy to the environment—adopting a “we” rather than a “me” mentality. While we’ve seen similar efforts in the independent music scene, Best Buy is charting new territory by bringing this idea to the commercial realm, enabling consumers to tap into the collective conscious of their friends.
It’s a great example of how brands can help spur spending without relying on steep discounts while their customers are laying off the plastic.
Kia Motors envisions a new future for the American auto industry in a spot introducing the company’s West Point, Ga., plant, its first manufacturing facility in the U.S.
The commercial features a young boy in 1951 riding a bicycle through time straight into 2010 and the company’s brand new Georgia plant. As the boy rides, a voiceover describes how Kia has evolved over the past 60 years from a bike manufacturer to a leading international automaker. Kia attributes its success to the company’s progressive spirit. Since the 1950s, Kia has continually challenged itself to “come up with better ways to help people get around.” The voiceover goes on to say how the new, state-of-the-art manufacturing facility in West Point, Ga., is the company’s proudest achievement yet, not because it demonstrates how far Kia has come, but because it offers “a glimpse of where we’re headed tomorrow.” The commercial concludes with Kia’s past and present alongside each other as the boy and his bike watch Kia’s newest car, the Sorento, drive off into the future.
This spot provides an excellent example of how hope-filled rather than fear-filled messaging can help brands transition into recovery. Instead of focusing on the auto industry’s turbulent past, Kia is shining a light on the future promising better days ahead for the American auto industry and auto worker. In this spot, Kia offers a future in which consumers will be better off thanks to the ambition, innovation and optimism at the core of the company.
Though well-intentioned, a recent TV commercial from leading Singapore bank OCBC has put a spotlight on the promises that brands make to customers. The spot—which is intended to support the bank’s recently launched Sunday Banking service—tells the story of a customer who visits the bank on her birthday, which happens to fall on a Sunday. In a show of the bank’s commitment to delighting its customers even on Sundays, its staff brings out a birthday cake, much to the surprise of the customer. The story was told so convincingly that some people believed the bank gave out birthday cakes on customers’ birthdays. Two days later, a blogger posted an account of what happened when she went to a OCBC branch on her birthday and was not offered a cake. The scathing entry has generated over 500 comments and created a controversy over the ad that was picked up by The Straits Timesnewspaper.
While one can dismiss the blogger as being overly literal—and probably a bit of a smart ass—what’s interesting about this reaction to the ad is how consumers could expect a real payoff. In our 10 Trends for 2010, we said people are Reading the Fine Print to get the best value and determine whether a company’s claims are sincere. I suspect that in a less wary time, consumers would let OCBC simply slide. But after a reality check in the form of an economic slowdown where people have lost jobs, defaulted on financial obligations or sold their belongings to get by, empty promises such as this are not welcome. For brands, this means being more conscious about how their advertising is perceived. Is the company giving customers the impression they will receive a benefit from that company? If so, is the message something the company can make good on? If not, perhaps the message needs to be tweaked. After all, in these times when customer satisfaction is utmost, no one wants an angry customer, especially one with a blog.
It’s well-known that consumers have been less loyal to name brands, switching over to private label in an effort to pinch pennies. They’ve been cutting corners anyplace they can, especially on items they’re going to throw away—like garbage bags.
