Why is GEICO awesome?

Time for the debut of my alter ego:

The Marketing Genius('s Assistant)!

Frank, my editor, added in those punctuations, so neveryoumind them. Except the exclamation point, of course. That's all me! The first rule of marketing is: Emphasize the awesome by adding exclamation point(s) as necessary!!!

The second rule of marketing is: If you disagree with the first rule, just leave this stuff to us, the geniuses (and their noteworthy assistants).

Today, let's ponder GEICO, America's 3rd largest auto insurer who could save you 15% on car insurance if you just give them 15 minutes; a process so easy that modern day cavemen could even do it.

Why is GEICO awesome? It's clearly not because they put a (!) at the end of their brand name or slogans, which they don't, but they do have an ALL CAPS brand name, which is almost as good. (However, I did hear that Sam Mendes is working on a musical based off of the company's history, set in rural London, tentatively titled "GEICO!") No, it's truly awesome because I did absolutely NO research to tell you that information. I know those things because of effective use of the tried and true element of the advertising biz, the "TV ad".

Am I saying they're awesome simply because they have gimmicky characters, like a cheeky talking gecko, or the aforementioned cavemen, or googly-eyed stacks of money (my personal fave)? Nope, that's not enough in the bottom-line world of marketing, no sirree.

As this one great economist once said, "It's the message, stupid". It's not the gimmick itself, or the way the message is presented. It's the content of the message. The ink on the paper, not the pretty letterhead. The trailing banner behind, not the single engine aircraft. The concept of "d-e-f-e-n-s-e", not the cheerleaders barking it. And other interesting analogies, too.

Look back at all the silliness, the purposely low-budget appearance of the ads, the cavemen spin-off opportunities, and remember that all they're trying to get you to remember (point approaching) are the following words: "save", "money", "car insurance", and "fancy a crisp?"

Now, what about the results? Does the brand's obvious effect on this marketing genius guy put the googly-eyed money stack where his mouth is? (maybe rethink that sentence. -Frank) Answer: No. I don't really think about my insurance very often. I used my parents' insur...er? insurrector? back in the day, and then when I switched states I took my wife's insur...ance provider. I'm big into family plans, I guess.

So I don't pay any money to GEICO, but I love GEICO's message enough to write about it. Which leads us to the 3rd rule of marketing: If you can't sell your product to someone, maybe you should think about giving that person your service for free, in return for them writing an awesome column unmonetized blog post about you.

The End of Summer Out Here in Utah

In a previous post, I mentioned how much fun it is to have to talk about weather all the time at work. Well, it reached a new low pressure system the other day, when a Sales Guy called from some provider of some valuable service which is guaranteed to provide valuable value, boost ROI, improve logistical flow-through, and make my Mother proud. These Sales Guys really need to tone down their rhetoric by the way. Anyhoo, after identifying himself as Sales Guy from Illinois, he signs off the voice mail with, "Hope the weather out there in Utah is treating you well. Take care."

Those were his exact last words before hanging up; I was so impressed with them I backed up the message and wrote them down as I listened a second and third time. This Sales Guy, endlessly pressured for new accounts, wants money I don't have in the budget for his magical wonderservice, and he leaves me with a comforting wish that atmospheric phenomena are treating me, personally, with kindness. This is what he must want me to remember then, right? You start and end your sales pitch with things that last, everyone knows that. What better than a weather well wishing? But not just a generic "Hope you have a sunshiney day", no! Give it to them in a more personal way so they will relate to you!

One of the things I'm thankful for in my career is I haven't had to cold call, ever. I was technically a salesperson right out of college, but I was never selling a brand new thing to a brand new account. Actually, I never really sold an old thing to an old account, either (ha ha!). What I'm saying is, I'm lucky the previous marketing administration quit, because I'm not very good at sales.

I had a fun adventure last night. I went shopping with Zoey for a birthday gift for her friend from school. Zoey is 8. When I suggested we get the girl, who invited her over not only for the 6pm party but directly from school today so she doesn't have to go to daycare (awesome!), a birthday gift for her troubles, Zoey rattled off the list of things Emma is dying for: "makeup, like lip gloss and those little kid makeup sets, and she loves loves loves perfume, and she also wants new necklaces like the peace sign ones I have...". Huh, alright. I didn't even know who Emma was until yesterday, but you apparently know everything about her. Anyway, we went to the superstore for last minute gifts, Walmart, and I spent a good 10 minutes in a makeup aisle fending off adult-shade lip and cheek applications and encouraging she get "up to 3 or 4" of the $0.89 tubes of pink glittery stuff. We settled on some fake nails, and I let her get a set, too. Emma is going to be thrilled with the little flowers on the tips, ohmygosh!

We also got the kid a Hoops & Yoyo birthday card--have you seen these things? My family has begun making them a tradition, and they are often hilarious. These little recorded voices come out of the card giggling hysterically and subtly insulting the recipient. You have to listen to them 3 or 4 times to get everything, but it's worth it. The one I got on my birthday will be opened no less than 100 times over the next week, and by then I will want to strangle Hoops with his Yoyo. But they're funny.

Last weekend was my big sports/birthday trip, and it did not disappoint. Below are a couple photos. Everyone who matters knows about Michigan's big win by now, and looks forward to their HUGE crosstown rivalry game with the mighty, uh, Emus? of Eastern Michigan University. EMU is located in the hipster village of Ypsilanti, a town so famous due to its name, that when you ask locals where they're from they simply reply "Ann Arbor". Except my friend Charlie, he's really proud of "Ypsi"; perhaps because they use really clever puns in their advertising. You "auto" see it!

Happy end of summer. :( <-- Sad face.

My 31st Year: What Have I Done?

I stole that title from a previous post I wrote, and I like it because you can read it one of two ways (just in case you can't hear the inflection in my text):

"Hmm. What HAVE I done, anyway? Let's reflect..."; or,

"OH MY GOSH WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

I'm reflecting, frantically, because next Saturday is my birthday. The big 3-1. No longer just 30 which, let's be honest, simply meant "not in my 20s anymore"--a surprisingly harsh reality that was difficult to accept, and even difficulter to get up from after crouching for any more than four or five seconds. When did a physical act as simple as "the crouch" become something you must truly question whether to attempt or not? Do I have a nearby wall with which to brace myself? Will my trick knee decide to flare up, causing me to groan inappropriately loud as I rise? Do I have enough give in the seat of my pants? Years back, the crouch was an afterthought; a simple and necessary tool for several sporting positions, also known as a "stance". My favorite was the "three point stance" in basketball. This clever device allows one the leverage to either pass, dribble, or shoot the basketball. Ha ha! You'll never know silly defender! Only they knew with me. If I was in the three point stance, one of my two signature moves was imminent: the "sit back down on the bench", or the "ankle sprain". At least then I had the will and joint lubrication to spring right back up.

Also, I don't really have a "trick knee". I just like the sound of it. Maybe if I spent 20 years workin' on the railroad I could get away with that sort of embellishment. So, sorry about that, railroadmen. I didn't mean to demean your 2nd favorite ailment behind "spike-through-hand".

I'm celebrating my 31st birthday by doing what any responsibly maturing man would: flying across the country to watch sports. And I'm dragging my wife! We'll be popping into Detroit for a Tigers game on Friday with Brad and Andrea, staying there that night, then meeting my parents in Ann Arbor for Michigan and Notre Dame. A birthday treat worthy of former president Gerald Ford and The Pope! It's been almost 3 years since I visited the Big House, and despite all the program's efforts to become a horrible football team the past two years, I'm stoked to go back, and maybe more stoked to have my wife go with me. She'll finally understand just a smidgen more of my personality and my tendency for withdrawal on fall Saturdays. I don't know that she'll understand why the Michigan Wolverines are "Champions of the West", nor why we sing the words so heartily, but then again, nobody really does. We just do it because it's college football.

This time of year always feels new because school sessions are starting. But even as a workin' man, it makes me feel I should work a little harder and "think about my future". So, in a clear sign of advancement, I'm thinking about taking a class. At a college. I considered enrolling in High School Government class just to relive the fun, but they didn't like my voting record. Instead, I'm going to take a class called "Toolbox Basics". No no, it's not a lecture on how to become a tool. I'd be in a much more advanced class than "Basics" for such a topic. It's a class to help me learn how to write. I'm not sure what I want to write yet, but at the least I'm moving closer to my goal of wearing jeans or corduroy pants and a sweater every day, not shaving, developing neurotic quirks, and having everyone accept those things for the sake of art. Wish me luck! And...I have to say it...GO BLUE!

Bloggers block, and my dream work scenario

This is a blog. How can I go weeks or months without feeling like I have "anything to blog about"? I am alive, I have a family, I have a job, I have more and more nose hairs which protrude beyond the nasal opening, and must be trimmed! So really, no shortage of material.

I spend 9 hours of most weekdays at an office building. I sleep about 8-9 hours a night, thanks to my wife's awesome sleeping habits (seriously, life changing). So that leaves 6-7 hours to do other things like work out, play with the kids, taunt the cat, watch sporting events on TV, trim nose hair, etc... But that 9 hours at work may be the problem. Work takes up more than half my waking hours, yet I do not like blogging about it. There are too many things about having a corporate job that an outsider wouldn't understand, and that I don't want to risk talking about in a public forum. A public consisting of about 11 people spread around the country, but a forum nonetheless. Or maybe I'm only inspired to blog about it while I'm at work, which then creates a scenario where my creative ambitions could usurp my jobly duties; which, in turn, could cause termination of the job. 

To steal a gimmick from Dave Barry, "Jobly Duties" could make a great band name.

In all the meetings, conference calls, and seminars I've had the pleasure of leading or attending (no sarcasm there at all), I've been waiting for one moment--one particular opportunity--to let my true abilities shine. The transaction would happen during one of those meet and greet sessions, where everyone toots their own horn by saying how long they've "been in the biz", and it would go something like this:

Me:  "Hi, I'm Steve, the Assistant Brand Manager for the brand. I've been here..." blah blah blah "...after which, I developed a true passion for..." blah blah blah "...this one time, in band camp..." blah blah blah "...really happy to be here. And how about this weather, huh? Huh?"

Before I continue my dream sequence, let's consider why every single person in the history of any business conversation, new friend introduction, or family reunion simply MUST talk about the weather. Why do we do this? One's location in relation to the other makes no difference at all. You could have resided on the same street for 20 years, never vacationed, and stepped out of your house only to say to your neighbor, "Man, can you believe this very typical sunshine?", and they would reply, "I know, RIGHT?" This happens 40 times a day in the average office building, with people in one state acting like the weather in any other state is, like, totally wild.

Anyway, back to my sequence. I've just humbly introduced myself.

Interested Party: "Steve, as the Associate Brand Manager, how do you..."

Me: "Ahem, ummm...OH, you know, I was just going to say I'm just the 'Assistant' Brand Manager, not what you said, which was 'Associate'."

Interested Party: "Riiiight. Anyway, in your role, how can you impact the average sales of..."

--Here's where I interrupt again and turn a normal, droll business meeting into a real LOL moment--

Me: "I mean, and either way--associate or assistant--my title starts with 'A-S-S', so... Right?"

Everyone in the room: 

Well, there you have it. An insight into my professional success, and personal joy. Work is work, and I'd rather write about make-up stories that prove my immaturity than about actual workish work things. Or the weather, apparently. Except when it's SUPER hot for like 5 straight days, which it has been lately here in Utah. Seriously, it was like 103 the other day, in late August. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Vacation pics and tidbits

Annie, the kids and I flew to Chicago on 7/31, drove to Hudsonville on 8/2, drove to Big Rapids (Cottage) on 8/5, drove back to Chicago on 8/8, and flew home to SLC (minus kids) on 8/9, our 1-year anniversary. All that time on seats of moving vehicles left me thinking, "Why do men wear wallets in their back pockets, anyway? My left arse cheek kills!"

Happy Anniversary baby! I did exactly what I wanted to do this year: set the bar low. I only get better from here, trust me.

Some of my favorite highlights from the trip:

- Zoey left the other 3 of us in stitches at the SLC airport restaurant. She started doing this weird "duh, du-huh" sound to Preston, and for whatever reason we all started giggling as she just kept doing it, without breaking. It was like one of those uncomfortably long Family Guy jokes. She just kept making that noise.

- The waiter looked like a creepy, ashy-faced version of Michael McDonald from MAD TV.

- I'm not going to compare every anecdote to a TV show, sorry about that.

- Nicknaming the Willis Tower the "What you talkin' 'bout-Willis Tower", and then hearing the kids try to say it fast. TV reference again, dang.

- Preston methodically cleaned out the appetizer plates at Giordano's.

- Zoey played a game at a street fair where you had to throw a ping pong ball into these tiny glass jars, to win a goldfish in a bag. You got 5 tries. These games are designed to be nearly impossible, right? She nailed it on the first try. We won a fish. It lived for 3 days. We tried.

- My Dad unwittingly ego-slapped me while we put together a new trampoline at his house. I just couldn't pull the last few sections of springs far enough to hook them. My hands were blistered, nearly bloody by then (slight exaggeration). He just kept pulling them 'til it was done.

- I saw my cousin Emily for the first time in well over a year, maybe two years? She went and married a man named Steve. Good job, cousin!

- I met my niece Elizabeth finally. She was crying within 30 seconds when I picked her up. We made up and became buddies later in the week.

- Zoey walking through Meijer in one flip flop, having lost the other one at AJ's house.

- Preston deciding to do lots of unpredictable things: Choosing an afternoon with Grandpa John and Grandma Terry instead of taking the train to Heidi's neighborhood with me and Annie and Dave and Heidi for the street fest; Going grocery shopping with Grandma Carol instead of hitting the G.R. Children's Museum with my Dad and Annie; Waking up super early on his own, at my parents' house, to play Gotham Racing on the X-Box. Well, that last one isn't so unexpected.

- Josh Pepper singing - screaming - "Beat It" in falsetto at the top of his lungs on Guitar Hero World Tour at AJ's house.

- Preston and Zoey arguing over the controls of the slowest, least entertaining type of water vehicle: the paddleboat. "I want to push the little handle forward and back!" "No, you suck at turning left while pedaling!"

- Seeing 3-yr old Danny by the campfire with his pants down. He was standing there with a marshmallow roasting stick in his hand, and suddenly his pants were at his ankles. It seemed like no great surprise to his parents.

- On my 2nd ski run of Thursday, catching an edge and going shoulder/face first into the water at full cutting speed. I hadn't fallen in a long time, and it's a trip. In half a second these thoughts occurred: "I am killing this run OH NO GOING DOWN. I think my shoulder just punched my clavicle. Am I upside down? I wonder if this looks cool to the kids. My teeth hurt?"

- Something about vacation makes my wife actually okay with a real, full arms and body hug. With an extended embrace. I know that's really sappy but I'm treasuring it. It was our anniversary after all. And I hadn't showered in like 3 days at the cottage and she was still in for it. That's love, baby.

I'm omitting a few things, surely, but I'm also very tired and this is taking forever. Plus I took the time to put those clever, HI-larious captions on all the photos above, so don't skimp on those. Thanks to Terry and John for letting me drive the Kia Sportage with the "One Hot Grandma!" license plate frame -- very awesome -- and for letting us crash at our favorite downtown Chicago condo. And thanks to Mom & Dad for hosting us at your home and the cottage for a week. It was a lot of running around, but something about the Midwest always makes it feel easy to enjoy.