Several weeks ago at the Kansas City DM Days I had the privilege and discomfort of speaking after Craig Wood, group president of marketing research firm Yankelovich. I say “privilege” because Craig’s a superlative speaker and “discomfort” because, well, who wants to go on after a superlative speaker?
As part of his keynote, Craig said that “consumers are looking for some sort of reciprocity” for receiving marketing. In other words, they want to be paid. The discomfort was audible at this point — lots of chairs scraping against the floor and muffled “huh-uhs” and “hmmmfs.”
The payment doesn’t have to be cash, however, Craig continued. It can be “a better sales experience, entertainment, a little beauty,” he said. An offer or marketing message that’s relevant is its own sort of payment. Consumers no longer have time to waste scouring the myriad marketing messages they receive to determine which, if any, actually speak to them. If your message makes it clear that you are offering something they want or need, you are providing reciprocity.
Last week I went to the Pier 1 Website to request a print catalog. While I was there I opted in to the e-mail list. A day or so later I received a “welcome” e-mail thanking me for joining the Pier 1 list, a link to new merchandise, and a coupon good for $10 off my first purchase of at least $50. That sort of “reciprocity” didn’t cost Pier 1 much — and it makes me more willing to open future e-mails rather than delegate them to the trash file.
Of course, if I weren’t interested in Pier 1’s new product line to begin with, I’d never have headed to its Website and requested a catalog. So the most important reciprocity in this case, the key driver, was the company’s refurbished, reenergized merchandise — “a little beauty,” as Craig Wood might have said.
A lack of reciprocity, conversely, may have contributed to Norm Thompson’s problems. As Mark Del Franco’s cover story shows, the company had been flailing for several years prior to its recent acquisition by Golden Gate Capital. One reason may well have been a lack of relevance. The tagline of Norm Thompson’s eponymous catalog is “Escape from the ordinary,” but there’s not much extraordinary among the products on its Website. The women’s tunic tops and ruffled T-shirts are similar to those for sale at J. Jill; the men’s crewneck sweaters and suede jackets resemble those sold by Orvis. Even many of the items featured in the “extraordinary finds” category — the $49 Banana Fiber Bowl, the $139 Silk Soutache Jacket — look like items I’ve seen in the Sundance or Coldwater Creek catalog.
Apparently folks in Norm Thompson’s hometown of Hillsboro, OR, and nearby Portland are gutted that it has been sold to a faceless conglomerate. Many identified strongly with the company as a local boy who made good but didn’t forget his roots, the equivalent of a Jimmy Stewart character in a schmaltzy ’40s movie, or a scaled-down version of L.L. Bean.
But Bean has succeeded in large part by ensuring that it translated its Yankee character — an emphasis on good value, practicality, and durability, and a quiet disdain for mere trends — into a brand that’s relevant even to those who don’t know of the company’s origins and history. Norm Thompson, sadly, didn’t manage to sustain that sort of relevance. And consumers reciprocated, with indifference.