Pow! Right Between The Eyes! Andy Nulman's Blog About Surprise

It's Not TV. It's T

Quite the kerfuffle (isn't that a great word?) last week when Sony announced the abbreviationating (my word, folks!) of some of their 30 and 60 minute back catalog into 5-minute "Minisodes" as they will be called. (Read the New York Times story for more details.)

Some call this "bastardization." Others have called it "sacrilege" and "the degradation of an art form."

I call it "smart business." And "the search for a new audience with withered attention span." And "making bullion out of gold dust."

Make no mistake about it folks, this is not the desecration of the glorious medium of television.  It ain't Playhouse 90 or the collected works of Rod Serling we're talking about; it's old episodes of fluff like Charlie's Angels and T.J. Hooker, which one can argue were five minute shows stretchted to 60 in their original incarnation.

Years ago, in a presentation I had to make representing Airborne at a wireless conference, I made a prediction about mobile video, saying that "Scenes will be more important than stories."  To be immodest but blunt, I was right on.

As a guy who's always rallied against "amortizing" media assets for the computer and mobile screen, I gotta admit that this shrewd optimization plan is the first one that works.  'Cuz this has about as much to do with the shows as the t-shirts, lunchboxes and action figures that are licensed from them. These are derived products made to make money; five-minutes of new-medium filler that happens to have TV stars in it.

Screw art. This is a dance to the bank.

In a world where snacks are sold as calorie counts (check out the myriad 100-Calorie packs of chips, cookies and other junk food), where pop songs are being sliced-and-diced to fit more of 'em into a radio hour, and where even venerable Hasbro has scaled back its rules of engagement to come with 20-minute "Express" versions of games like Monopoly, Scrabble and Sorry,  it was only a matter of time before the media companies separate the wheat from the chaff and sell their content not on its artistic merits, but as a way to kill a small increment of time.

The medium is indeed the message.

Will watch.

Put Another Way...

Okay, so in the spirit of Sony's decision to filet some of their 30 and 60 minute TV episodes into 5-minute Minisodes for mobile and web consumption, I have decided to edit and summarize the above blog post into a bite-sized, quicker-to-read, easier-to-digest format.  Enjoy.

It's.

Sony is making minisodes; hamburger TV from their meat locker.

It's ain't bad. It's good. Commercially and even artistically.

'Cuz the stuff wasn't that great in the first place.

This ain't TV, it's t-shirts or lunchboxes that move.  Product in its purest form.

Scenes seem to trump stories these days. Jeez, I was onto this early. 

Electronic snacking in a new format.

Dig in.

Vicious Circle?

Here's why my phone has a high-qual digital camera.

Did a double-take after seeing this while walking the halls towards Bender-Helper Impact, Airborne's P.R. agency in Los Angeles:

Talk about a surreal paradox; the cure and the cause wrapped into one package. 

Not making fun, but this is kinda like a Pedophile Victim's Internet Chatroom...

Words That Don't Travel

Looking through my vacation photos for the previous post, I stumbled upon (Digressionary question: How come all the great terms are being usurped by Web 2.0 companies?) the photo below, which brought back waves of memories from my first-ever college marketing class, taught by the legendary Don Tobin. 

In it, Don taught us about the dangers of language, and how certain trademarks and company names don't travel well.  Example:  The brand of milk known as "Pet," which meant "Fart" in French.

But even in Don's wildest dreams, I don't think he could've ever come up with the dangers of the Danish term for "Final Sale":

Pop-Up Cuts

The concept of the Pop-Up continues to Pop-Up.

First there was the Pop-Up Book, which begot the Pop-Up Video, which some could say inspired Pop-Up Retail and most recently Pop-Up Hospitality.

The marketing benefits are obvious and pure Pow!(well, at least for the stores and hotels): 

• Where there once was nothing there is suddenly something
• This something is so different, it initiates buzz
• This buzz begets crowds
• Just before people can get bored, the something is taken away
• And all that's left behind is perfect nothingness

So what's next in this trend of service Surprise?  Well, if a recent trip to Denmark is any indication, how about Pop-Up Hair Salons?

Sounds nutty, but check out this picture.  We saw this just off a busy Copenhagen street, and while we were trying to be discrete in taking our photo, the "stylist" noticed us, and called us over for a quick explanation. 

Seems that he does a booming biz cutting the hair of the city's construction and road workers, and does in a few minutes what would take at least a half-hour in a shop (never mind the to-and-from travel time).

Perhaps not for the tress-obsessed like me, but there is most definitely a clientele for this type of street theater/service.  I'm thinking Festivals, multi-band outdoor rock events (imagine how much fun that would be!) and other such milieus of public spectacle.

I came, I saw, I cut.  One man's haircut is another man's show.

Take A Deep Breath

First it was the mini-bar, but guests rebelled against the exorbitant fees for a Coke or a beer.

Then it was the bottle of water, but why spend $5.00 on H2O when studies showed that what flowed from the tap was just as good, if not better.

So what can a hotel upsell its guests in-room for a little extra margin?

How about air.

Sounds wacky, but when I was in Vancouver recently, there was a neat little can of something called Oxia was where the Evian used to be.  Called "a natural energy boost," this personal oxygen dispenser is a cross between an asthma puffer and a can of Red Bull.  Push up the blue plastic spout, wrap your lips around it, press a button and presto--a mix of 10% nitrogen and 90% pure oxygen is sent into your bloodstream, claiming to do everything from alleviate headaches and hangovers to increase energy and reduce stress.

I was curious, but not feeling overly squanderous, I opted for an $18.95 use fee added to my hotel bill, as long as I left it behind for refill (the canister itself cost about $65 to buy).

So does it work?  I took it with me to my Power Within speaking gig at GM Place and frankly, the dozen or so spurts cleared some cobwebs and was less damaging--and less fattening--than a caffeine or sugar rush, not to mention the more illicit ways of sharpening up.

Critics say the same could be accomplished by a few good deep breaths, but where's the fun in that?  Carrying around the canister of Oxia gave me the swagger and menace of Dennis Hopper in "Blue Velvet."  (That's him at left.)

And gave me the idea on how to make REAL money with this stuff:

Flavor it, and find a way to mix it with alcohol.

Time Gets It...And So Do I

I love magazines, spend my weekends devouring them, and spend much of my hard-earned salary subscribing to them.

Recently, my subscription to Time Magazine ran out, and I got a one of those automatic renewal forms in the mail.

I sent 'em a cheque for $94.70 to re-up, and all was well with the world.

Until two weeks later, when I got an offer to subscribe for $39.95...less than half the price.

I was kinda pissed off, but let it ride, dealing with more important things in life.

Until a week later, when I got ANOTHER offer to subscribe...this time for $25.00.

On one hand, I figured if I'd wait another week or so, they may offer it for free.  On the other more realistic hand, I decided it was time to complain.  I gave the invoices (see below) to my assistant Diane, and waited for her to bound into my office, haggard and frustrated after hours of futile complaining.

 

So here's the Pow! moment.

In less than one minute, Time's phone rep was offering a cheerful apology...along a refund of $59.70.

No questions, no haggling, just an understanding and the satisfaction of a long-time customer.  Chalk up another victory for The Big Ask!

The fact that Time's subscription arm seems to be screwy is their business (and one to work on, obviously.  There are so many different rates you'd think they're running an airline or a government's taxation policy, not a magazine subscription service). 

But the fact that Time was so quick to remedy my situation is great business.

Loudest Easter Egg

This from Airborne colleague Gabriel Jacob:

"I've been on the Yahoo web page a million times,
but never tried this.
Go to Yahoo and click on the exclamation point."

And with that, a happy, noisy Easter to you all.

 

No Hard Cell, But...

One of the coolest devices being touted at last week's CTIA (Cellular Telecommunication Industry Association) conference had nothing at all to do with cellular.  In fact, the only calls you can make on it are web calls, as Nokia's pocket-sized N800 (guys, when are you going to get over those antiquated alpha-numeric naming conventions?) is a pure Internet device.

But quite the device it is.  As a wireless industry vet at eight years and counting, I come to hand-held web-browsing with skepticism; I've dealt with the early disappointment over cellphone WAP, live through a reasonable facsimile of it via my BlackBerry, and long for the promise of the iPhone.

But this is here and now, and I tested it with my own hands, and Surprise, Surprise...this Wi-Max baby delivers the goods.  The touchscreen keyboard changes size as it senses your fingers or a stylus, its stereo speakers punch above their size, and invisible web camera gives it added video-conferencing functionality.  The browsing?  Impeccable, and the hi-res widescreen replicated things like this lil' blog crystal-clearly (see below).

It sho' nuff doesn't replace a phone, but may allow folks like me to leave our laptops at home.

You can check out more here, or look for the Nokia's two-page spread in this month's Wired Magazine. 

And to think this company got its start in the 1800s producing toilet paper and rubber boots... (see what I mean about that never-ending race?)

The Day After The Day After

And speaking about April Fool's Day, I thought this was a big one when discussed at the Seder table earlier tonight (well...last night, as it's after midnight), but a quick Blackberry check confirmed its authenticity.

Manischewitz, the quintessential Jewish foodstuff company, is giving away a cool grand in cash to people who find an "Afikoman" instant-win certificate inside its special commemorative, five-pound, $11.99 boxes of matzah.

The promo, which runs until May 8, is part of the Kosher co.'s attempt to "move more mainstream."

Which, I guess includes the giving away of bread during Passover. 

(Call a rabbi if you don't et the significance.  Or if you're  still pondering what an "Afikoman" is...)

The Ritz Gets It

No April Fool's Day joke is this--starting tomorrow and continuing to the end of the year, one guest per month at Tokyo's new Ritz Carlton hotel will be getting sumpin' REAL sweet on their pillow.

Forget the Godiva chocolate; to commemorate the new Rolex store downstairs, a little note saying "You've Won A Rolex" will be on someone's bedding once every 30 days.   

No long forms to fill out, no stunts to perform, just a supreme Surprise to one lucky luxury sleeper.

Now there's a wake-up call I wouldn't mind.

Gladiators On Ice

Despite the fact that they were overtaken by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles last weekend, the gladiators of 300 are the Surprise Hollywood hit story of the year so far...and will probably be for the entire 2007.  Even the sharpest showbiz analysts remain astonished at how this one exceeded expectations by miles.

While it employed similar marketing tactics as films like Snakes on a Plane and Superman Returns (MySpace pages, YouTube leaks, an IMAX release, ComicCon appearances and the like), the digitally-designed 300  resonated way better than those predecessors.  And everyone's trying to explain why. 

One interesting and rather obtuse "conspiracy" theory on 300's success was its TV commercial with the NHL, which mashed up the warriors' battle with the quest for the Stanley Cup. At the NHL marketing meetings two weeks ago, certain Hollywood types on a panel discussion suggested that this touch-point with a sports market segment that kinda digs slam-bang brutality delivered a slew of hockey fans who rarely go to the movies.

This resulted in the type of groundswell that startled the execs, including a day when over 2 million people viewed the 300 trailer on MySpace.  Said Warner Bros' distribution President Dan Wellman:

"That hit me between the eyes. 
  You say to yourself 'Wow!'"

Well, that's what you say, Dan...around here, we say something a little different.

Walking The Walk

There.are fewer things more boring than the walk-on of a keynote speaker, particularly at the early-morning session of a conference. Some guy is announced by some stiff flounder to a few tepid claps, he parts a curtain, puts some notes on a podium, clears his throat and reads from some prepared text.

Yet here I am at the CTIA Mobile Entertainment event in Florida, and five hooded hip-hop dancers take the stage and perform a sharp choreographed piece  before  MTV's Greg Clayman does his shpiel. Kinda cool, and the dead room at least looks up from their Blackberries at the on-stage antics.

The kicker though, comes when the lead dancer removes his hood...and it's Clayman himself!

His opening few sentences were a little huff-and-puff and some cynics beside me rolled their eyes,  but you gotta give Greg big points for taking a big-balled risk and embodying a little of his network's spirit to change what is usually a stultifying custom.

And guess what...the next speaker's opening remarks were "Sorry, but I don't have a dance number."

More On Richard Jeni

The messages of grief, support and tribute in the name of Richard Jeni that have come pouring in here (as well as to my office email and voicemail) have been steady and numerous.  Thanks to all for sharing.  I'm astonished by the response; it's the least that he deserves.  A few things to point out though:

1) Oy.  How inappropriate is the name of this blog considering...  Please don't let it affect any of your kind thoughts. (Thanks Defamer for pointing this out.)

2) For some reason, Rich's oft-edited entry on Wikipedia made some sort of conspiratorial connection between his tragic death and the charitable Christmas card he sent out.  For the record, it was a simple, heartfelt message that went:

In the spirit of the holiday season,
a contribution in your honor has been made
to the American Cancer Society
by Richard Jeni
It carries with it a wish for health,
happiness, and peace in the new year 

 3) Some people suggested that there must be more stories about Richard than the "contemplative" ones posted earlier.  I have dozens, but perhaps my favorite was the time in Melbourne when Richard, a notorious charmer, had scheduled two dates with two different girls at the same time. 

It was about 10:30 a.m., and the phone rang in my room.

"Noolmunn," Jeni cried state of panic, "I need your help.  Can you take out a girl on my behalf after the show tonight?"

"I'm married, Rich," I reminded him.

"I'm not asking you to sleep with her," he said.  "I need you to be 'The Beard'."

The "first date" was a woman he met on the plane coming over to Australia.  He had offered her tickets to his show.  The "other woman," my date, was one he met in town. 

So there I was, night of the show, "escorting" woman #2 to it as my date.  She was in on all this, and was waiting for the first woman to leave, ostensibly after Richard's on-stage performance.

'Twas not to be though, as she stuck around backstage and wanted to go out for dinner.  So out for dinner we went, the four of us...me, Rich and his two dates.  "Don't worry Noolmunn, you're off the hook, I'm picking up the tab for all of us," he whispered as we left the theatre.

So there we were, until 2:00 a.m., dining, drinking, laughing at one of the city's best restaurants...until the first date started to tire, was gentlemanly escorted to a cab by Rich.

As soon as the cab turned the corner, Rich grabbed "my date" by the arm, gave me a hug good-bye, and was off into the Melbourne late night, with that bug-eyed, ear-to-ear grin plastered on his face.

St. Peter, lock up your daughters.  Jeni's in town, and he's headlining.

 

Positive Power

So...Norman Vincent Peale had a point.

And The Secret is being shared at record pace; viral at warp speed.

Yup, there is indeed Pow!er in Positive Thinking.

Since Monday night, being part of The Power Within tour, I've been surrounded by motivational speakers and those who wanna be motivated.  And boy, are my endorphins tired.

First of all, in all modesty, I think I really hit it out of the park.  I worked my butt off preparing, and it paid off big time.  4,500 in Ottawa was huge, but 7,000 in Vancouver was insane.  The audiences were warm, welcoming and raucous.  It's a rush I wish you all will experience one day.

As a learning experience though, what I found exceptional was the infectious positive buzz of the participants.  When I was at Just For Laughs, I would always marvel at the dichotomy of the comedian--wild, zany and upbeat on stage; miserable, vindictive and depressed off.  Not so with the motivators--their optimism and enthusiasm actually increased when out of stagelight range. 

They flowed with confidence; consistently unflappable and constructive.  For example, when Les Brown lost his passport on the flight to Vancouver, he maintained dignity and calm, even when the rude Air Canada guy treated him like a piece of lint.  I would've been flipping out, swearing, freaking about the flight home and other consequences; Les acted as if he had lost half a pack of gum.

The big Surprise though was the physical effect of all this positivity:

• Les Brown, 62 years old, looked about 50. 
• Jim Fannin, 59 years old, looked at least a decade younger. 
• Suzanne Somers, a 60-year-old grandmother, pranced about like a pixie, a persistent smile lighting her path.
• 47-year-old Tony Robbins--after three hours of pacing, leaping, roaring and leading the frenzied crowd in group dynamics--comes off-stage with barely a break in his breathing. 
• Even Craig Kielburger, the boy wonder of altruism, still looked like a teenager.

The Fountain of Youth exists...inside of us.  Stay up and stay young.  Just incredible.

To make matters even better, following the goings-on back home at Airborne by Blackberry, I am treated to emails that say things like:

"Wonderful message Lance...(it) and reflects the great teamwork and industry positioning we sometimes forget about."

"Dennis, these are great suggestions."

"I am starting to see what’s coming and it looks very positive."

A team, working together, supporting each other in the challenges facing a company on a wild ride through a rapidly-changing industry. This from a culture that, as recently as six months ago, was bogged down by curt, cold email chains of ass-covering and finger-pointing.  What a magnificent turnaround.

Stay upbeat and things will go better. And if they go wrong, being positive will help you deal with it.  And no matter what, you'll you'll be lookin' good.

A win-win-win.

Enjoy the weekend!

The Way I Feel Tonight

After the high of Power Within Ottawa, I just returned from soundcheck for tomorrow at GM Place in Vancouver.

Surreal. 

Rock concert stage facing 10,000 seats.  Uber-giant screens.  Rod Stewart's sound system pumpin' out magna-wattage.

So Craphammer, this one's for you.  This is how I feel right now.

Don't know how I'm gonna sleep tonight...

Extremes Are Not Always Enough

Great piece in Brandweek about "The Dark Side" of ads, how marketers are reaching to the extremes to cut through the clutter, giving people what they don't expect.

Just what the Surprise Central doctor ordered, right?  Classic Pow!

Well, not exactly.

As I said way back when, Surprise must shock euphorically.  It must delight the recipient, not scare 'em off.  If Surprise ain't a positive experience, it's certainly not gonna help sell anything.

And that's the name of the game here.  Or as Wally Snyder, CEO/Prez of the American Advertising Federation said so succinctly:

"This is not like literature or music.
Sometimes, it just doesn't advance the product.
This is a business proposition."

Creativity is a blast.  But in marketing, the real fun begins when the numbers start rising.

A Tale Of Two Ads...Part 2

One edition of Fortune Magazine.

Two Big Marketing Conferences.

Two high-priced, full page ads.

And other than a thumbnail shot of Scott Goodson, both are type-driven, and enhanced by just one color.

So tell me...

...which of these conferences would you rather attend?

Where do you think the "real" tomorrow will be discussed and decided?

I would like to leave my "preconceived notions at the door," but after seeing these two ads...I can't.

One promises Pow!

The other, Yawwnnn...

Beginning To See The Light

Holiday Inn. 

They useta be the ENEMY. 

The one with the heretical, anti-Pow! slogan: "The Best Surprise is NO Surprise."

Times are changing, though.  Hallelujah!  They are beginning to see the light.

This from Peter Gowers, Chief Marketing Officer of the InterContinental Hotel Group (IHG), parent co of Holiday Inn:

"We think a company scripting service is a bad thing.   Our aim is to deliver personalization with personality.

"We give (40,000 IHG staff) an introduction to the brand, but leave them a lot of latitude with how to interpret it. 

"You can bring about consistency, but you also get a personal stamp on everything we do."

One small step for Surprise; one giant leap for Holiday Inn.

A Tale of Two Ads

Was leafing through a very packed Fortune magazine over the weekend, and two ads caught my eye...for two very different reasons.

The first, from The UPS Store, was printed upside down.  While following the Conventional Wisdom of Pow! by being out of context, ads such as these usually disappoint; they're most often dopey, irrelevant gimmicks, kinda like those college handbills that screamed "SEX!" and then explained "Now That I Have Your Attention..."

But not this baby.  The photo of a despondent, head-in-hands sales guy was bolstered by the headline:

Think this upside-down page is surprising?

Imagine finding one in your presentation.

Brilliant use of Surprise...and of that sick feeling in the pit of our stomachs that we've all had to deal with at one time or another.  A real winner.

The other one promotes one of my fave bizbooks of last year, Blue Ocean Strategy.  The ad inn question (and indeed, in question it is) is simple, conservative, to-the-point...well, what do you expect from Harvard Business School Press?

But here's the problem.  You figure that if one has enough cash to buy a full-page ad in Fortune, one would spend the extra couple of bucks and add a hue or two...particularly if the key word in the book's title is

B L U E !!!

I tested 10 people at Airborne, asked them the simple question: "What's wrong with this ad?"  All 10 said the same thing, and pointed out the glaring technicolor disconnect. 

But let's take this one step further.  To take advantage of the power of Surprise, to REALLY stand out, to REALLY make a mark, and to REALLY (well, as the book suggests) "see your business from a new perspective," the Harvard folks should've printed the ad in

    RED! GREEN!   VIOLET!   GOLDENROD!   

    HOT PINK!  TURQUOISE!  ORANGE!

...ANYTHING but in boring black and white.

(I wish the above was my idea, but to be frank, I saw it done over a decade ago by the Labatt Brewery, who bought a full-page ad for its powerhouse Labatt Blue beer in the programme book for the Just For Laughs Festival, and ballsingly re-designed their bottle and label to read Labatt Red.  Red, get it?  Har har.  But believe me, it was shocking, effective and generated tons o' word of mouth.)

It seems awkward to expound high-flying concepts like "leave your competitors behind"  and "change your world" when you limit your rainbow to greyscale.  Open your eyes, folks.

And now, back to the articles...

Compound Interest

Dr. Richard Bruno responded to last week's post about Friends, Family and Fools by sending along the complete PowerPoint he uses during his "How To" VC speeches.  Of particular interest was his "Bizplans-to-Bucks" timeline. In essence, Dr. Bruno takes entrepreneurs down this path:

• 1,000 Business Plans Are Written
• 150 Are Moderately Credible
• 50 Are Interesting To Read
• 20 Undergo Due Diligence
• 5 Get Funded
• 1 Makes Money

The big Surprise here is not that only one makes money; the big Surprise is the qualifier of "Interesting To Read" as a crucial criteria.  Many times, as entrepreneurs try to appeal to their corporate audience, their brilliant ideas are sanded down and neutered by VC-speak. 

But like anyone else (remember my Everyone's a Kid in Disneyland theory?), Venture Capitalists are susceptible to the right Pow! 

And as Dr. Bruno points out, it may be the difference between being considered for funding...or ending up in the recycling bin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A great personal story here.  When Garner and I put together our first business plan for Airborne, in one of the slides, I wrote that he and I were professionals with "pristine reputations."

"Pristine?" he said.  "You don't use the word 'pristine' in a VC pitch!  They'll laugh us out of their offices!"

I gave in on a number of points, as Garner was way better versed in the way of VCs than I, but I held my ground on "pristine."

Cut to presentation day, and the VCs are sitting like statues as we plow through our presentation.

Then comes the fateful slide.

"Pristine!" Suddenly, the mannequins came to life.  "Now there's a word you don't see too often!"

All of a sudden, the guys were animated and discussing the meaning of "pristine."  This led to questions about our past, and to hypothetical situations and projections of the business-to-be. 

I looked over at Garner, who had a huge smile on his face, and gave me what soon came to be known as his trademark "life is strange" shoulder shrug.  We were back in the game...)

Amazon.Sheraton?

Checked into the Sheraton in Toronto last week, and instead of a big hotel chain's usual front-desk  accoutrements of either a basket of fermenting apples or nothing at all, I was met by a small, colorful bookshelf. 

Seems that the T.O. hotel is part of the chain's trial project called Bookends, where travelers are offered a selection of books (well, a rather limited one of a half-dozen) to read during their stay.  Borrow for free, but leave without returning and it's added to your room charge.

I dunno...as a frequent traveler and rather voracious reader, this whole thing strikes me as odd.  Yes, boutique hotels do this all the time, and I must admit, have been the source of quite a few additions to my library (hey...do you know what they charge per night?).  But of the five Sheratons chosen for Bookends,  only one--in Waikiki--can be seen as an "extended stay" resort; the other four (two in Toronto, one in Boston and the other in Stamford, Conn.) are of the road warrior, business-stay variety.

Even the woman checking me in was kinda perplexed, admitting that the service was garnering a lot more Hmmmms than actual transactions.

While the idea is well-intentioned, it is oddly-positioned.

First of all, the limited selection almost renders this a non-starter. 

Secondly, I would suspect a hefty magazine or two--with option for subscription--may be better suited for a Sheraton stay. 

Thirdly, if they really did want to go with books, why not co-opt a publisher looking for publicity, and like Oprah's Book Club, choose and specially-publish one a month that the guests can take with them with compliments of the hotel chain?

I'm all for a check-in Surprise, and I'm all for promoting literacy, but without proper relevance, Sheraton's Bookends runs the risk of being more about "ends" than "books."  (And if we are truly desperate for a book while ensconced in a big hotel, there's always Gideon's Bible...)

Designer Thievery

Douglas Mandel (looking pensive at left) is a talented guy with a lot of guts. A designer and retailer of understatedly gorgeous, high-end menswear, his Kamkyl  boutique has been burglarized--get this, insurance brokers--three times (!!!) in the past six months, to the tune of $120,000 in losses.

Instead of wallowing in pity or packing it it, Douglas has taken a different tack, and is turning his misfortune into buzz. 

Last week, he sent me an email announcing the cheekily-titled "It's a Steal" sale, where he's clearing out his remaining merchandise to start anew.   Two shirts, two jackets, a pair of pants, a coat and a scarf later (these thieves have taste, I must admit), I consulted with the geniuses at Surprise Central to come up with ways to further turn his lemon grove into tanks of lemonade.

Our recommendations?

1) Expand the ballsy target role. Establish yourself as:
"The TRUE Fashion Victim"
and your stuff as 
"Good Enough To Steal...But Better To Buy"
or
"Inspired Looks, Desired by Crooks"

2) Okay, no guard dogs, but why not flank your doors with Fort Knox-like sentries and overnight armed guards?  Yes, it may be costly, but perhaps not as much as three break-ins and increased insurance premiums.  Jewelry stores and art galleries do it all the time, but menswear boutiques? Establish a unique high-security look and you'll get invaluable media coverage around the world.  Then dare the crooks to hit you again.

3) Set up a mail-order business from your site and deliver each piece in a lock-box that wails like a burglar alarm when opened.  Have each piece delivered by Brinks.

4) Offer a reward of a year's wardrobe to anyone who can provide info that leads to the arrest of these S.O.B.s.  Offer to design prison uniforms for the perpetrators once they get caught.  Do it now and show it off in your store. 

5) Better yet, stage your next fashion show in a jail.

Okay...I think it's time to stop drinking. 

So go get 'em, Douglas.  Take your place alongside Cartier and Versace and Rolex and Edvard Munch's "The Scream"--a creator of tangible aesthetics that people want so badly they will risk prison to get their hands on them.

Ooof! in Advertising

Been holding onto this for the right time, but following Douglas Mandel's tale of woe...

...consumers once again benefit from a poor retailer's misery.

...and Howe!

Lots of Surprise in Dallas at the NHL All-Star Game (to be disseminated over the next few days), but nothing more Shocking and Awe-some than this lil' anecdote.

Was at the "Taste of the State Fair" pre-game party in the Hyatt Regency Ballroom with Airborne's V.P. Product, Ms. Kim Senn.  A wild fan of the fastest game on earth, she was speechless when none other than Mr. Hockey himself, Gordie Howe, ambled into the room.  "Let's get you a picture with him," I suggested.

Gordie kinda ignored my hovering but stopped when approached by my lithe, slender, blonde colleague.

Just as I was about to snap the shot of the two of them, he took his arm off Kim's shoulder and lumbered away.

"Oh Christ," I thought to myself.  "He's pissed off.  What I have I done? "

He walked towards me, leaned in, and in a deep voice, uttered the following three words, one by one, almost like a warning:

"Take.  Your.  Time!"

No, I Won't Back Down (Again!)

One of the drawbacks of being the worldwide spokesperson for Surprise is being confronted by all comers and asked to do sumpin' different all the time.  Like the toughest guy in the bar (a title I never remotely held, by the way), I find myself wielding all sorts of in-yo'-face challenges here at what should be my serene Surprise Central hideaway.

(Not that I am foreign to these expectations, mind you. As CEO of Just For Laughs, I was besieged constantly by seemingly well-meaning people asking me to tell them a joke.  "Did you hear the one about the pain-in-the-ass accosting the fed up executive?" I used to reply.  But once again...I digress.)

The latest "double-dog dare ya" comes from Robert Hruzek, owner, author and operator of the Middle Zone Musings blog and social lounge.  Robert is hosting a writing contest, one which features mercifully-brief six-word stories (something we both were enamored with after reading a bunch of 'em in the November Wired evidently), and closes relatively soon...this Sunday, to be exact.

Using the largesse Texans are renowned for, my Houston-based blogging buddy had tossed two gauntlets my way:

1. To actually write one of these six-worders
2. To be a "Surprise" judge and pick the story with the best Surprise ending

Well, the last guy to back down from a Lone Star State challenge ended up being President of the United States, and I can't do any worse than him, so pardon me as I bend down to pick up these gloves and throw them right back with two resounding Yups.

Robert, I guess I can judge the swarm of stories on my flight to your somewhat chilly state on Monday (I'm heading to Dallas for the NHL All-Star Game, Kemo Sabe Stetson in hand).  Avalanche me.

And as for my story, here goes:

"Why six?" smirked the contrarian.

Thank you.  You've been a wonderful audience.  WInners and details to come soon, I suppose.

 

iYawn

The beauty of Surprise:

One nation's Pow! is another one's So What?

Not So Silent Night

Insane.

That's the only way to describe the staggering spike in traffic yesterday.  A Sunday, Christmas Eve day no less, and Surprise Central was buzzing like Santa's sweatshop.  All this due to to a minor mention from the Maestro of all Marketing bloggers, Seth Godin.  Talk about a pleasant Surprise, willya?

So to Seth, I say "Thanks for the Christmas present."  (Almost as good as the signed, leather-bound, gilt-edged collection of your work that I was hoping for.)

And to those who have come here for the first time because of the glad tidings of Godin, a very special welcome...

...and the promise to enlighten, inform, entertain and, of course, Surprise.

Gorilla, You’re A Desperado

The above line is from a Warren Zevon tune, and very apropos to today’s rather lengthy post.

When it comes to establishing true Surprise in marketing, nobody does it better than the rogues known as Guerilla Marketers. These firms (like BzzAgent, Zig, and my fave, GoGorilla Media) are David-sized streetfighters who have to deliver Goliath-sized results, armed only with slingshot-sized budgets (Whew! Carried that analogy through…). They’re the punk rock indies traveling in a broken-down van, compared to the somewhat bloated, private-jet superstars of Madison Avenue.

As Zig’s Creative Director Aaron Starkman said in response to a whup-ass “Haunted House” campaign it put together for Scream TV:

“In today’s weird marketing environment, you’ve got to out-smart, not out-spend.”

That reminds me of my days at Just For Laughs, when Bruce Hills and I used to scam First-Class flight upgrades armed only with Festival swag. “Any schmuck can buy spend $12,000 for a First Class ticket to London,” we used to say, “but it takes a REAL MAN to sit right next to him for $319, a stuffed puppet and a couple of t-shirts.”

Same thing goes in marketing. Any schmuck can spend zillions on an integrated campaign, but it takes a real man (or woman…calm down, I’m just drawing a parallel to the statement above) to do something Surprising that people will talk about on a shoestring.

Brandweek recently published its annual tribute to the off-beaters, and laid down five rules of marketing, guerilla-style. I particularly enjoyed rule #1:

Don’t Get Arrested

“…when the cops come, do what they say. You may also want to add some bail money to the budget.”

Boy-oh-boy, can I relate! More than two decades ago, I owned a promo agency (hey, my Surprise street cred runs long) and my job was to launch the American Rock Café, a Hard Rock clone in Montreal, with bombastic brouhaha on an inverse relationship to its miniscule budget. So what I did was hire a loud Beatles-imitator band called The Beasties, put them and some Marshall Amps on a rickety flat-bed truck, and paraded them through the Downtown streets at lunch-hour.

The reaction was insane. People poured out of stores and restaurants, looked down from office windows, and got out of their cars in mid-street to catch the action.

Equally as interested was a squad car of Montreal's men in blue, who stopped the truck and demanded what was going on. I was following in the car behind, and jumped to defend my stroke of genius.

“Where’s your parade permit?” I was asked, and quite gruffly to boot. I didn’t have one; a parade permit would’ve cost more than the entire operation.

I pulled out the only piece of legitimacy I had on me.

“This is a permit to film a TV commercial!” the cop roared. “Where are the cameras?”

And at that, I reached into my front seat and pulled out my Dad’s ol’ Bell & Howell 35mm film camera. Circa 1966.  Void of batteries, film, and most working  parts.  Basically, the world's weakest insurance policy.

Miraculously, the cop got back in his car and The Beasties continued to soothe the savage breast of the Montreal lunch crowd.

I learned two lessons that day:

1) Big Balls Beat Big Budgets

2) The Camera Is Mightier Than The Gun

So here's to marketing's Guerillas...wherever they're swinging!

CLEAR!!!

I know I’ve been-a-preachin’ that shock is a key component in cutting through the clutter of modern marketing, but this kinda takes it to new extremes.

Dutch electronics giant Philips recently published a glossy cardboard magazine insert, a mini-catalog really, topped by the headline “Give The Gift of Simplicity” (dull, I know…they should’ve read this previous post) and offering free wrapping and shipping of Philips products from their Amazon site.

So far, so what.

But tucked away bottom right, amongst its relatively benign brethren of Norelco razors, portable DVD players, single-serve coffee makers and electric toothbrushes was the candy-colored Philips HeartStart Home Defribrillator, touted by the tagline “Simply designed so anyone can use it to save a life.”

All jokes aside (and there are pul-lenty!), I’m sure that this device is actually quite practical, but it does seem a tad out of place as a Christmas gift.

Perhaps Philips should’ve waited until January to start marketing it…when the credit card bills roll in.

Hearing Update 1

A little package caused a really big stir this week. 

Artist Frank Cipra took some time out from designing NHL goalie masks and sent along the first prototype of my designer hearing aid concept first discussed here about two weeks ago.

In a unanimous vote of approval, just about everyone who saw it flipped out, from my co-workers to my friends to my family.  Even some folks with perfect hearing looked at it in envy, coveting the effect of a growling skull poking out of one's ear.

Also got an update from jeweler David Maidor, who is working out the gold shell and trying to ensure that the precious metal won't interfere with the precious operation of the electronics inside.

The Cipra model gets shipped to Nick Laperle at Sonomax on Monday to insert the hardware, but I wanted to give you a peek below before it hits the road.

Man, even if it doesn't work, it's so cool I may STILL decide to wear it...

High Five

I hate chain letters.  Never liked 'em, never sent 'em.  But this is a little different. 

First of all, it's a challenge, and I don't back down from them lightly.  Secondly, it came from two trusted sources in less than 24 hours--from old buddy and Meister-blogger Mitch Joel and from new buddy Michael Wagner.  And finally, it segues so snugly into this tome's passionate theme that the team at Surprise Central has given it the unanimous thumbs up.

I speak of "The Five Things Meme," a social media tagging experience best explained by Mitch himself right here.  In a nutshell, it asks recipients to reveal "Five Things You Wouldn't Know About Me" to their blog's audience--an exercise in Surprise if there ever was one--and then send the dare over to five other folks. 

I'll delve deeper into the ramifications of this over the weekend, but the challenge to come up with five unknown personal factoids in the age of insta-Google (not to mention every tale I already spun in my tell-all book I Almost Killed George Burns) was indeed, uh, well...challenging.

But I think I pulled it off, so without any further adue...

1) My first career goal was to be a garbageman.  I was about three-and-a-half years old and saw these guys outside my window at night, making all sorts of loud noise, throwing large cans around at random, and jumping on-and-off of a moving truck.  "What a gig!" I remember thinking. "Where do I sign up?" 

2) I have been accused of having what could be called a "bad temper," the worst of which once erupted volcanic-like when I was at Just For Laughs and I trashed my entire office--desk, bookshelves, windows, coffee cups-- with a baseball bat.  My assistant Diane, with me for over a decade now but then in her first month on the job, hid under her desk to escape the flying shrapnel.  Diane now sits safely three offices away from me...but the baseball bat is still within arm's length behind my desk. Just in case...just in case.

3) I love Cool Whip (particularly Cool Whip Light, which has only 35 calories in three heaping tablespoons!), Kraft's non-dairy, neo-synthetic, cloud-like whipped topping.  I put it on just about everything, even resort to eating it out of the tub, and as an added bonus, let my dog Shaydee lick the spoon when I'm done. 

4) I collect rare books, and some of my most prized possessions are first editions of Ayn Rand's We The Living and Atlas Shrugged as well as a signed first edition (complete with scribble of a Campbell's Soup can) of Andy Warhol's autobiography The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again)

5) While known to be somewhat outgoing , I am incredibly uncomfortable and shy at parties.  I am much more at ease on stage in front of 5,000 than at a dinner party of five.

So there.  And now, it's over to you Tim Sanders, Rick Spence, Austin Hill, Roger Von Oech and Shardy (Martine, you would've been included but you don't blog, and if you did, it would evaporate the blogosphere). 

Zzzzzzzzzz...

It's 1:12 a.m.

I am zonked.  Gone.  Exhausted.

Spent last night hosting the 4th Annual Battle of the Bands to benefit Montreal's Maimonides Geriatric Center.  I can hardly keep my eyes open, but there's so much adrenalin running through my veins, I can't sleep.  So I'll regale you with a little anecdote of the evening.

The show opened with me and four talented musicians from Airborne playing Green Day's "American Idiot."  No political statement, just a song well suited to my limited vocal range.

As I strolled through the crowd during the sets of one of the REAL bands, an old friend (Ben Kaye, who works with Celine Dion) pulled me over and said in shock:

"I never knew you could sing!"

My answer, one that I've been waiting all my life to deliver, paraphrasing the great Charlie Chaplin who responded in a similar way after warbling an Enrico Caruso tune at a party (does that sentence syntax make sense?), was:

"I can't.  I can just imitate Green Day!"

Well...at least I thought it was amusing...

And I do the same thing all over tomorrow night.  Uh, tonight that is.

Okay, okay, I'm going to bed.  Video to come soon. 

Stay With Me A While

Here's something I find Surprising:

People are Surprised by the concept of LONGEVITY.

I tell the bartender at New York's Carlton Hotel I've been married for 22 years and he looks at me as if I were either nuts or the Dalai Lama.  Someone at a meeting yesterday mentions he's been with the company 12 years and the rest of the room breaks into a cacaphony of gasps and guffaws. In this months Business 2.0 magazine, Xerox Chairman and CEO Anne Mulcahy explains the reasons how and why she's  a company "lifer" (spending over 30 years with 'em).

I guess in an age where each new marriage faces a 50:50 chance of ending in divorce, where pro athletes show allegiance to the team called "Highest Bidder" and where corporate culture embraces moving up by moving out, those that stay put are seen as an anomoly.  At best.

People have always admired long-lasting milestones--the 100th birthday, the Golden wedding anniversary, the 61st blog post (okay, so that's not as monumental...). My sense these days that the reaction is shifting from the sweet smile of recognition to the Wide-Eyed, O-mouthed look of Surprise.

Earlier on in this blog, I made a case how product life cycles are getting shorter faster.

Remove the word "product" and the concept still holds.

Highly Contagious

True story.

I am posting on my B-Berry from a diner in Manhattan (hence the unusual "no frills/no hues" look).

I come in for a quick breakfast and a quite hour alone before a long day of meetings with fashion mogul Mark Ecko.  Seating is communal, and a 60-something guy in a ball cap sits down next to me and tries to strike up a conversation and show me pictures of his trip to Washington, D.C.(!!!!)

After a few polite grunts (so sue me; I cherish my "alone time"), I finally say:

"I'm really sorry, but I'm blogging now."

He looks at me with concern, and asks (seriously!):

"Uh, is that contagious?"

"Horribly!" I reply.

He gets up and moves to another seat on the other side.

Peace on earth.

Hearing Jewelry, Hearing Art

I have a confession to make.  A loud one.

My name is Andy, and I have a hearing problem. 

As a rock ‘n’ roll journalist from the age of 16 to 23, I was out at concerts almost every night. The end result of such aural abuse is a little medical condition called “Otosclerosis,” which has severely limited hearing in my left ear…and which is why I subtly turn to my right when in conversation.

I’ve been given two possible solutions to the problem—an operation or a hearing-aid. And I’ve eschewed both; the former for the risk (a 50:50 chance that it will work wonders or completely cut off hearing to the ear), the latter because of the stigma attached to wearing one.

That explained, here’s an excerpt from “How To Do The Impossible,” a book I wrote eight years ago:

“…I realize that hearing is one of the five senses and that many people suffer from the diminishing functioning of another one of the five senses—sight. They too can change their predicament by wearing a ‘seeing-aid,’ namely eye-glasses.

“My whole point here is that there’s less of a stigma to wearing glasses. Glasses can be cool; not so hearing aids. Why? Maybe I can convince Giorgio Armani to create a line of designer hearing aids, with his winged logo sticking out of my eardrum. Maybe I could start a new trend, a new industry…”

Well, it’s taken me close to a decade, but being the spokesman for Surprise has empowered me to get off my ass and act on my relatively revolutionary hearing-aid idea. I need one, and I’ll wear one…but only as art or jewelry.

Or put another vain, immature and ridiculous-but-true way, I’d rather be deaf than uncool.

One of my co-conspirators in this endeavor is hearing health maverick Nick Laperle. His company Sonomax sent shockwaves through a staid and ultra-conservative industry when he announced a deal with Wal-Mart to do for hearing-aids within their stores what LensCrafters has done in malls throughout the continent: custom fit ‘em and deliver them within one hour at a value price.

The other co-conspirators are artist Frank Cipra and jeweler David Maidor. They’ve been playing around with Sonomax prototypes for a few weeks now. Frank paints the wild designs on masks for the majority of NHL goaltenders, and has shrunk his canvas somewhat to detail my potential hearing aid with skulls, bombs exploding and other less-than-subtle imagery. David, who custom-makes baubles for the rich and famous, is working to fit Nick’s technology into a white gold shell, which he will (hopefully) cover in pave diamonds.

I’ll keep you up to date on progress, show you a couple of photos of finished units and report back on public reaction.

That is...assuming I actually hear something.

Down Under…But Uh, Not Australia

You know, I try to run a respectable blog here. While I may curse like an exorcized demon in real life, I go about as far as the word “ass” amongst you bloggers and blogees. For you, I eschew the lurid and neo-pornographic and try to concentrate on the insightful and mentally stimulating.

Then someone like prolific blogger and podcaster Mitch Joel sends over a Surprise story like this from AdAge:

"Betty Beauty,a New York startup is getting big PR play by marketing hair color for the nether regions, billed as ‘color for the hair down there’." 

Yup, pubic hair dyes.

Now, while this story most definitely follows the Surprise Convention set out in this blog’s inaugural post-cum-manifesto (oh great, now I said “cum”), while it indeed does shock and will set tongues wagging (calm down, I mean people talking), it smashes to smithereens the limits of decency I have so hard tried to set (and by “hard,” I mean difficult).

Besides, with so much pop culture savvy tucked away under my belt (oh please, that’s not a dick joke), this down-below dye job is nothing new to me. In fact, I saw my first set of blue pubes back in the mid-‘70s.  Settle down, it was in the film Pink Flamingos, and they belonged to the nasty David Lochary (as Raymond Marble, one of “The Filthiest People Alive”), pictured with matching blue head tresses below.

Anyway, not only has Mitch’s story hurled my blog’s once-pristine reputation deep into the abyss of depravity, the traffic onslaught caused by his mention of my “Pow!” in his extremely well-read TwistImage scandal sheet has crashed the servers over at TypePad, and they have sent me a whopping bill for the repairs.

Like colored pubic hair, I guess some stories are best left seen by a select few.

Levi’s—The Saga CONCLUDES!

Okay, now I love Levi’s even more.

I just got a call from Megan Wright, a uber-polite-and-polished customer service rep from Levi’s Concierge Program, which was the subject of an earlier post. And here's the news you've all been waiting for:

The program actually exists
              …or to be more precise, did exist.

Megan explained that “Concierge” was a program put into play about the time I originally bought my smacked-up jeans last year, and despite the fact that I was a few months late in responding (Note to Self: Next time you find a phone number emblazoned on your pants, call it immediately), she offered me the “personal fit” service in New York, San Francisco or Beverly Hills any time before the Thanksgiving holiday.

Anyway, I ain’t gonna be ‘round those parts by then (big bummer—was in New York twice in the last three weeks!), but the response, the attitude and the professionalism of Megan has cemented my admiration of, and allegiance to, Levi’s.

That, and the fact they make my butt look nice and tight.

Levi's--The Saga Continues

Day Three and no reply from Levi's and their "secret" Concierge Phone Line.  I'll give them one more phone call, and until the end of the week.

Watch this space.

Treading Fred

Vitamins, Enzymes, Energy, Caffeine, Designer Names-–what more could people do to screw around with bottled water that hasn’t already been tried twice and succeeded once? 

Well, if you’re Fred, you can give the seemingly flavorless and colorless liquid a personality.  Instead of tinkering with the product, Fred’s stroke-of-genius was changing the packaging from the standard chunky and round to an eye-catching sleek and flask-like. 

Now not only does this water slide sexily into the back pocket of jeans, but it overflows with attitude.  It even has its own blog and MySpace page(!).

Coming up next--Fred gets married (a female-shaped bottle), has kids (mini-bottles) and buys a home (a case featuring all three different bottle-types). 

Then, he cheats on the wife (slinkier female-shaped bottle), and is sued for divorce by Heather Mills' lawyer (huge honking jug).

Then he...jeez, who poured vodka in my Fred?

Levi's Secret Service

Okay, this could get interesting...

Last night at dinner, my son Hayes pointed out that I had a phone number written on my jeans.  This defacement came courtesy of Levi's, and was one of many (including buckshot holes, swirling tears, tattoo-like inking and a red tartan back pocket) on an extremely customized pair of jeans I bought from their flagship store in San Francisco. 

Lemme just say that I love Levi's. Here's where I sound like that movie trailer guy:

"In a world of $300-plus designer denimeisters, Levi's put out an under-rated, superbly-priced and most importantly, perfectly-fitting product."

That's why I have eight pairs of 'em.

This pair, I've had for about a year.  You can't help but notice the phone number (it's on the upper right quad), but I assumed that it was the number to the S.F. store, and left it at that.  Frankly, compared to the rest of the action taking place all over both legs, it was kinda overshadowed.

But last night,  sparked by Hayes' inquisitiveness, I called it.

Are you ready for this?  The number led to what purports to be a Levi's Concierge Service, and perhaps because of the time of day and week (Sunday eve at about 8:00 p.m. eastern), it played a cheerful recorded message inviting me and three guests to a champagne-fueled, one-hour shopping experience...ON THEM!  The message asked me for my name, a contact number, the names of my guests, and the city in which I want to enjoy this experience.

So, the curiosity is severely piqued.  The Surprise meter is warming up, humming in anticipation.

Is this one of those stories I'll tell forever?  A hoax?  A true find or a crushing disappointment?

To be continued...

The Big Bang of Bargains

I just spent two days trolling the high-end shops of Manhattan.  And while I love the attention, and the attention to detail, one experiences while swaggering through the luxury boutiques of Fendi, Versace, Vuitton, Cartier, Pucci, Gucci, Ferragamo and the like on 5th Avenue, I must admit that the element of Surprise is somewhat lacking.

The king--and by a wide margin--of Surprise retailing in North America is yet another only-one-name-needed shopping emporium, but found far, far away from the main drags of downtown:

COSTCO!

Yup, they may seem like giant grey warehouses, but when it comes to Surprise, Costco can outshock any tony designer store.  Surprise isn't just a strategy at Costco; it's the company's DNA.  This taken from a crisp little piece by Matthew Boyle in the most recent Fortune Magazine:

"While Wal-Mart stands for low prices, and Target embodies cheap chic, Costco is a retail treasure hunt."

Once more with increased emphasis:

A RETAIL TREASURE HUNT!

Holy Jeez, can it be described any better than that?  Think about it--a different experience, new excitement every time you're at the store.  No wonder, the article goes on to say, that...

"Costco's card-carrying legions come in droves, waiting anxiously in fancy foreign cars on Saturday mornings for the store to open.  Carts in hand, they display a fervor not usually seen outside of houses of worship."

But then Boyle really nails it:

"Why?  Because we all love a bargain."

What better embodiment of a retail Surprise than a bargain?  Your expectations are  always exceeded.  You are counting on X, but are served up X%-off. And Costco does this day after day after day after day.  New stuff. At wild prices.  No consistency except Surprise.  No wonder they are second only to Best Buy in annual sales per square foot (and lemme tell you, Costco has to sell quite a few jars of mayo to equal one of Best Buy's flat screen purchases).

I'm a big shopper, but this has really opened up my eyes and blown a breeze of menthol into 'em.  Think about what I said before:  the Surprise of bagging a bargain works big time for you, AND continues to live long after as you rave about it to all your friends ("You'll NEVER guess how much I paid for this! And where I got it!).  You never hear people bragging about paying full retail price (unless they are pompous asses who have more dollars than sense).

This ain't about shopping.  It's about addiction.  Surprise is a concept that keeps on demanding.

And Costco is a concept that keeps on delivering.  Well done, guys.

Double Whammy

Over the past few weeks, in reading and searching and head-scratching and debating and hypothesizing the subject of Surprise, I have kinda lost sight of its core value.  And that is:

Surprise Shocks Euphorically!

Go figure I would rediscover this...at the airport, of all places.  But it wasn't two hours ago, after landing from New York, that I was hit with a double dose.

1. My wife and I checked one bag.  And it was the FIRST ONE through the rubber-strip curtain and onto the belt.  Frankly, I never believed there was a real "first bag"; I always thought that it was a decoy, a prop, sent out to alert those waiting that perhaps something like this belonging to them will be coming soon.  Perhaps.
2. We did some shopping, and went over the spending limit allowed by Customs by a relatively substantial manner.  I declared this overage, and was ready to pay the duty and fees associated with it (I learned my lesson last year when I forgot to declare a $100 t-shirt I bought as a gift and paid the price not just by losing my Canpass privileges, but by being subjected to a search so thorough that the only thing missing was an anal probe). Instead, when we got to the checkpoint, we were--are you sitting?--waved through with a smile and a "Have a nice day!" 

Unimportant?  Trite?  Of course, but who ever said that Surprise has to be serious and substantial?  Two stupid little deviations from the norm and I'm having a great day!  Don't underestimate the power of even the smallest Surprise in everything you and your business do.

(Oh, and on top of this, the bill for my car maintenance--I picked it up on the way home from the airport--was about half of what I expected.  Jeez, I'm gonna go get me a lottery ticket...)

Patrick Moves Me

One of the most obvious examples of Surprise hangs on my wall behind my desk.

Unlike any other piece of art I own (and I own a lot of wacky art), this one never fails to stun the one who looks at it. It’s a painting by Patrick Hughes, one of  Great Britain's most celebrated Pop artists. I could spend hours trying to describe it, but to put it most simply, it’s a panoramic view of Venetian canals, painted on an accordion-like, three-dimensional canvas.

What makes it Surprising is how it “moves” when you walk across it. Using a reverse perspective (where he paints the near on the canvas’s furthermost “valleys” and the far on its closest “peaks”), Patrick creates an illusion of movement so realistic and profound that people have actually had to sit down due to sea-sickness upon viewing it.

Pop art was always meant to shock the senses, but when it does so intensely and physically, you know that there’s a mad genius behind it. I had the extreme pleasure of meeting Patrick earlier this year (he's the happy tall guy next to me below in front of the Venice painting), and his brilliance goes way beyond the canvas; his obsession with twisted reality extends to books on verbal puns and optical illusions.  A fascinating man!

Do yourself a favor and check him out. Then drop his name to impress your friends!

...And Now, a Response

In his comment about my Mesquite restaurant post (official title: Consistent = Boring), Roger von Oech asked if I'd want my bank or airline to Surprise or bore me, and if I'd accept inconsistent service from them.

Well, I guess I should've made this clearer earlier:  when I speak of the power of Surprise, I speak exclusively of the positive.  Obviously, a negative Surprise gives you a kick somewhere in a vicinity 180 degrees removed from Roger's proverbial "seat in the pants."

Actually, I get Surprised at the bank all the time.  My bank is RBC, and I happen to be  B L E S S E D with an account manager named Mauro Pampena.  He--are you ready for this?--calls ME to tell me things like mortgage rates are going down and that he has ALREADY pre-arranged a re-financing of my current one to take advantage of the change.  Examples like this are the norm, not the exception.  The only way I'd even consider changing banks is if Mauro would leave for another one.

As for the airlines, I'd be  T H R I L L E D  if they would improve their service to reach the lofty level of inconsistency.  I beg, in vain, for even the littlest of my definition of Surprise from them.  I could constipate the world's bandwith with my personal flying horror stories, but I'll recount just one--my recent flight from Philadelphia to Las Vegas on USAirways.  It was delayed two hours while the airline had to escalate matters to a Board Meeting (I'm serious; so explained a very sheepish pilot) for a decision whether to remove cargo or remove last-minute stand-by passengers to bring our overweight plane down to acceptable take-off poundage. 

T W O   H O U R S !!!

And guess what USAirways did for all us passengers during these 120 minutes of suspense? 

N U F F I N G !    S W E E T  F.A. !

They pulled a Bret Easton Ellis, an Elvis Costello--they did Less Than Zero.

So Roger, my long-time idol, my new-found blog pal, I would've accepted any sort of Surprise from this so-called airline.  A Micro-Surprise would've sufficed.  A Nano-Surprise even.  A bag of pretzels.  A movie (they eventually showed one once we were airborne and had to gall to charge for it).  A sing-along.  A glass of water (okay, to be fair, we did get some at the 100-minute mark). 

Here was a golden opportunity to change a bad situation into one I'd always remember, and talk about for ages. That's how Surprise works.  That's what Surprise does.  Instead, it was yet another flight experience I'll have to go into therapy to forget.

Maybe USAirways should hire Mauro Pampena...

First, a REAL Surprise...

How's this for shock--my first-ever blog comment comes from one of my all-time marketing idols...my first mentor, if you will.

When I was in University, my buddy Sheldon Davis and I were disciples of Roger von Oech.  He was the creative marketer's dream and as students, we eschewed the boring texts our profs assigned us and read Roger's "A Whack on the Side of the Head" and A Kick in the Seat of the Pants" instead.  We had a blast applying his theories then, and personally, I've been influenced by the man ever since.  He was the first real "marketing guru," and although the two foremetioned books were published over two decades ago, they are still the most relevent creativity-enhancers out there (although I hear that British fashion maven Paul Smith's recent tome is up there as well).

Look, in my previous careers as CEO of the Just For Laughs Comedy Festival and as a showbiz journalist, I met every rock star, movie star, porn star, politician and assorted celeb-type that you can imagine. 

Yet I was star-struck and tongue-tied when I had dinner with Henry Mintzberg recently.   

And I'm still in shock that Roger von Oech took the time to comment on this blog. Unsolicted, I may add.

You can check out Roger's blog at blog.creativethink.com...but please remember to come back here when you're done.

I need you more than he does  ;)

Consistent = Boring

There's a restaurant near my house called Mesquite.  It's about as inconsistent as a restaurant can get. My favorite dish, the steamy black bean soup, is NEVER the same.  Sometimes it's black, other times it's red, sometimes it comes with a couple pieces of steak floating inside, other times with a tortilla chip.  The fact that I never really know which black bean soup I'm getting is kinda irrelevant because no matter how it comes out, it's delicious and mouth-melting. 

Now I'm sure that Mesquite could put together some kind of standardized recipe and service manual to ensure the same thing every time around, but then they'd be like all the other restaurants.  Their inconsistency is part of their charm. The element of the unknown, of the (dare I say it) Surprise, keeps me coming back. 

Consistency is not all that it's cracked up to be.  Surprise, in its purest sense, depends on deviation from the norm.

It's a Cliche, But...

This was not my favorite way to spend an afternoon, trust me, but to back up something I said in an earlier post (to wit: the opportunity to fully implement "Surprise" into business remains untapped), I did the perfunctory Google search on the word.

There were over 260 million search results.

I combed through more than 1,000 pages of 'em.

And while I learned a lot about gifts, about the town of Surprise, Arizona (which slurped up most of the web's best surprise URLs), about Kinder Surprise (the European chocolate egg with the toy inside), about surprise parties and about improv comedy troupes, I learned nothing about how Surprise works in marketing and why business needs it.

That's my job, I guess.

I thought I was into something before. 

Now, I am sure of it.