Silence Can Still Be Golden

Is it just me, or do recent marketing books (The Cluetrain Manifesto, Permission Marketing) over-stress the development of customer relationships and under-emphasize the development of quality products and services?

I may have missed the Cluetrain altogether, but I don’t see much mention of the product in all this recent talk about customer relationship management, open dialogues, and corporate honesty. I’ve seen some discussion of positioning, but almost nothing about product.

Doesn’t every customer relationship have to begin with a relevant product? I’ll say “relevant” rather than “quality,” because we all own – or maybe even habitually buy – at least one truly atrocious item that, for whatever reason, has meaning for us or fills a need in our lives.

Is product relevance to be assumed at this stage, an obvious starting point for a company? If that’s the case here, I’d suggest we go back to stating it outright. After all, I always assume that I will enjoy the meal placed before me, but that assumption is not always correct.

How about adding a 96th thesis that goes something like this: Develop a quality product that will make buyers appreciate the effect you’ve had on their lives and give your company a foundation on which to develop open and ongoing dialogue with customers.

I also wonder if Cluetrain’s argument might not be a little too reliant on the needs of computer programmers and developers to make its case, and therefore might not be as relevant (there’s that word again) to manufacturers in general. (The book’s authors all hail from the high-tech world.)

If the brand in question is a computer application that my livelihood depends on, then yes, my supplier better be open and honest about his company and his product.

Yes, it’s relevant for expensive or sensitive products and services, too. It’s probably no longer a good idea for insurance companies or credit card carriers to bury loopholes in the fine print, because all it now takes is for one intrepid customer to read everything and the whole world can find out.

And I think I’d swear undying loyalty to a car maker whose marketing pitch contained the following: “J.D. Power & Associates ranked us fourth in the SUV category, and they’re right. Our design isn’t nearly as good, and we dare you to try and fit a living person in the backseat. But we’re also $3,000 cheaper than everybody else, and our three-year warranty legitimately covers everything but the CD player.”

IGNORANCE IS BLISS

But honesty has its limitations. For instance, I’m wondering whether Sovereign Bank, which holds my car loan, should have sent this recent letter:

“A credit card promotion was recently sent to your home offering a pre-approved Platinum Edition Visa card . . . Unfortunately, the name and address fields in the mailing were inadvertantly displaced. This resulted in some customers receiving letters in their homes with improper recipient names . . . None of the offers will be considered valid if returned to us for processing. We understand the value of your credit report, and we will not issue a credit card in your name based on this offer.”

I’m relieved.

Permission Marketing’s Seth Godin would say that Sovereign’s first mistake was sending me an unanticipated pitch for a credit card. I agree. I pay my car bill every month, and I call them to check my balance, but I’ve never asked them to send me other offers. The folks at Sovereign did not score any points for honesty with the letter. Maybe if the company had applied Godin’s permission theories before adopting Cluetrain’s honesty policy, it would have.

As for the vast majority of products and services I require, I have neither the time nor inclination to establish an open, ongoing dialogue with their makers. The only conversation I want from Kellogg are those friendly greetings from Snap, Crackle, and Pop. All the company has to do to retain my business is keep making Rice Krispies the same way, and keep me relatively content with the price. The occasional Sesame Street min-beanie is a nice touch, too.

There’s one other question that kept popping into my head as I read Cluetrain. If humans are truly using the Internet to refind their “voice,” what are all those cybersurfers spending millions on porn sites trying to say?