Advertising during the COVID-19 lockdown

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a number of conversations around the ongoing pandemic and the reoccurring subject seems to be about ways to cope with life in self-isolation.

I noticed that there had been an immense amount of advertising around COVID-19 from different sources with different messages – no surprises there.

The most prominent one is from the government about staying home – which makes perfect sense to me. Then there are supermarkets who advertise to remind people not to panic buy and purchase their groceries normally. And perhaps the most entertaining ones, in my opinion, are the ads from retailers such as JB Hi-Fi with headlines saying “Keep the kids entertained with JB!”. Moreover, the countless email blasts from businesses I’ve engaged with in, what seems to be, my lifetime – since they come from companies I engage with often, every once in a while, and even the ones I’ve purchased items from just once.

COVID-19 seems to be the most trending word of the year so far. But have companies capitalised on the pandemic? What about non-essential businesses? How has this virus affected advertising as of late, and how will it affect the future?

There are very strong advertising messages around prevention, hygiene, and health. Do I think businesses are going to continue advertising about their health and safety measures after the lockdown? Perhaps not, unless the pandemic miraculously disappears overnight – but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen. Realistically speaking, this is our new normal. Whether it be for now or forever, all I know is the world will never be the same.

In saying that, I think advertising will change and adapt if and when this pandemic is over – it simply has to. With meat, flour, yeast, and even seedlings flying off the shelves – people have reverted back to making their own food and growing their own fruits and vegetables. This could mean that there will be people who’d realise that we can make our own food without needing takeaways or deliveries, we can exercise without needing a gym, and we are perfectly capable of having our own means of entertainment at home instead of going out.

Another probable scenario is that non-essential businesses would have a sales increase after the lockdown is over. I imagine advertising messages such as “we’re back in business”, “reopening sale”, and post-quarantine discounts might be something that non-essential businesses are already looking into now. With convenience at the forefront, people can simply go back to exchanging money for ready-made goods and services that make people’s lives easier.

Whether the change is from the first post-lockdown scenario I’ve depicted or the latter, I can see advertising still playing a huge role in affecting how the future, post-coronavirus, will be. My hope is that advertising messages don’t forget the efforts and sacrifice of today’s front liners – especially the ones whose jobs we tend to overlook and perhaps even undermine at times. The likes of truck drivers, delivery people, grocery attendants, and custodians. We sit, working from home, considered as non-essential business workers, while they constantly risk their health just so that we can still live comfortably amidst the pandemic.

A smart advertiser would realise and remember that the economy is built on the efforts of the workforce. A wise advertiser would recognise and thank the aforementioned essential business workers (amongst others such as healthcare workers, police and military, food services, and bank workers – to name a few). Telling a story around how your company appreciates the people who are most at risk to contract a major disease just so you can stay home so you can eventually go back to business, (because most of us have the luxury to stay home) is not only good advertising, but it’s also a way to build our world back up again.

My hope is perhaps after this pandemic, if and when we all get through this – the world will be more human again. Not numbers, figures, and statistics – but human. Optimistically speaking, advertisers should find a way to make sure that good news are told through storytelling where companies seek relationship over revenue. After all of this blows over, whether people choose to make their own stuff again or go back to exchanging money for convenience – I hope that advertisers have a mind shift where the word “reach” is not a mere figure, but an actual act to “reach out” and create a genuine and good influence in people’s behaviour.

When the honeymoon is over

Finding an advertising client is often a lesser challenge; keeping them is the greater.

When you are in a service industry such as advertising, you can usually keep a client by consistently delivering good work that presents an agreed message to that client’s target market in a compelling and cost-effective manner.

Of course, personal empathy comes into it, as well.

But, what happens when all that is not enough? What happens when the client has a view contrary to that of the agency? Maybe the client is rejecting work that the agency is passionate about and, more importantly, can be supported by solid commercial and creative arguments.

In short, what happens when the agency believes it is right and the client is wrong? It is, unfortunately, a common dilemma in an advertising world where subjective judgement is unavoidable.

So, when it does occur, what is an agency to do? In one notable case in which I was present, the art director punched the client. But that is not recommended.

My view is that in the end, it is the client who is paying the bill and also has the ultimate responsibility for his company’s success or failure. So, the agency has a simple choice—either give the client what he wants or walk.

But there are ways to avoid getting to that point, particularly if the agency and client have a long, and thus far, positive relationship.

First, let’s examine the degree of disagreement. If the client just wants to tinker around the peripherals, there is probably no great harm in that. Suck it up, don’t be precious. If it is a complete rejection, the first question to ask yourself is how strongly do you believe in what you are presenting and be honest. The second question is; does what the client is saying has merit—and, again, be honest.

First suggestion I would make is, if you can, give yourself time to think about those questions. An outright and immediate rejection or acceptance of a client’s demands are rarely warranted and almost never required.

Give yourself time to think.

If having done that and you still want to hold your ground, do so. It is after all your reputation that could be at stake—and don’t mistake that for personal ego.

There are ways to say no to a client, without saying no. First is to give the client and his views the consideration of consideration. That’s why you should give yourself time to go away and, as you can tell the client, think about what they are saying.

Then, even if you are coming back with a no, make it a pacifying no. You don’t have to compromise your creativity, but it is rare to have anything that can’t be tweaked or modified to hopefully mollify the concerns a client may have. Usually, it works best when you can preface it with, “Thinking about what you said, I think…”.

It can work. If it doesn’t, well—there are some hard decisions to make.

But here is the thing—the greater thing—it is the relationship that needs constant work—not the work itself. It is more important to maintain a positive, productive, and collegial relationship with your client in which hopefully, you can work as a team, meeting agreed objectives, and even having a bit of fun along the way.

If that kind of relationship exists, any disagreements along the way (and they are inevitable), can be short-lived with no residual ill-will.

If on the other hand, the relationship is persistently confrontational and deteriorating, then it is probably in everyone’s interest to make a clean separation.

However, the real work to be put in, and put in from the start, is to stop it ever getting to that point. Bit like any marriage, really.

Henry Ford didn't invent the car.

Henry Ford didn’t invent the car; he just perfected the idea of mass production.

By doing this he was able to broadcast his idea to almost every person in America. Wherever Americans saw a Model T driving down the streets, they saw Ford’s idea in action.

And on top of this, he created a massive publicity machine that ensured every newspaper carried stories about how successful his idea was. The problem for Ford was that the success of his idea not only publicised his own cars but the very concept of owning an automobile.

So when his competitors wanted a piece of the action, their only option was to out-broadcast Ford. They didn’t have a better idea so all they could do was spend more on ads and publicity and the noise of cars got louder and louder and louder. And now, 104 years since the first Model T rolled off the production lines, we’re stuck with the same problem: dozens of car manufacturers broadcasting their messages in a crowded market in the hope that their brand will be the one chosen by consumers.

Henry Ford’s legacy was a mass-produced product for the mass market. One hundred years ago the car was amazing and it changed almost everything, but today the majority of cars on our roads are unremarkable. And the car manufacturers know this; they know that they are smack bang in the middle where all the broadcasting is happening and where all the noise is. So they try to stand out with their so-called “glam” divisions: BMW has its M series, Mercedes has its AMG range, Mini has John Cooper Works, Fiat has the Abarth and even Range Rover went as far as getting Posh Spice to help design their special edition Evoque. All of these brands are hoping these cars will inject a sense of difference into their models and that the “idea” of their special edition will spread into the mainstream market. The thing with ideas is that there are millions of them, and nobody cares about them until they like them.

Otto Rohwedder invented sliced bread. Without Otto, no one would say “that’s the best thing since sliced bread”. He started work on the concept in 1912 but no one cared about it. Bakeries weren’t interested; there were problems with how the bread stayed together and, more importantly, how it stayed fresh. By 1929, when the great depression hit, Otto’s idea of sliced bread hadn’t taken off in the same way that Henry Ford had, and he had to sell his patent. It was only in 1930 when Wonder Bread began marketing and promoting sliced bread that sales started to skyrocket. Wonder Bread managed to broadcast the idea of sliced bread effectively.

But today broadcasting doesn’t have as much effect. We all know about the success of Apple, Google and Facebook. They all started from nothing until their ideas spread. But they’re really a glitch in the system. They filled a void that was never there, and just like Henry Ford, as they became successful their idea helped their competitors get off the ground too. Facebook publicised social networking and Web 2.0 and Apple publicised the home computer and every one of their competitors rode on their tails. And then the broadcasting began, and the noise started. 

Advertising: The good, the bad, the ugly.

Two years ago, I wrote “Advertising: A source of insecurity”. I talked about deceit and manipulation in the advertising world, and how they had a negative influence on my well-being. At the time, I still felt like I was an outsider, looking in. Now, having been in the wonderful world of advertising for a couple of years, I continuously get an insider’s perspective on how advertising can be used to create change in a positive way.

Thanks to my career in advertising, I get to have a better sense of what’s real and what isn’t. I think more logically, even whilst being the millennial that I am. Stereotypical millennials are known to be impulsive, naïve, and “believe” everything they see on the Internet. We, as a generation, are seen as individuals who tend to make decisions based on how we feel instead of using logic; but does this really only apply to millennials?

My generation isn’t well represented practically everywhere. I’ve seen many-a-video, and many-a-meme about how we’re the laziest, most selfish, and most entitled generation thus far; and for good reasons too. But whether or not you agree, there are still a lot of millennials who want to change the advertising world for good. Given that perhaps, most of us millennials caused this chaos in the first place, individuals such as author, former Cosmo editor, and feminist: Amy Odell, (as we millennials say it) “shook” the industry with her unapologetic take on content advertising. Her book “Tales from the Back Row”, has given its readers an insight on the dark side of fashion, self-promotion, and the always-have-been unrealistic ideals and beauty standards in the fashion industry.

Perhaps something snapped within Odell, or maybe it’s something she’s wanted to do all along, but at one point, she said “this is too much” and should be exposed. Those of us who are “woke” (yes, I know I’m peppering millennial terms here) know how nasty advertising can be–especially fashion advertising. It affects women, men, and non-binary individuals in more ways than one.

 But even as a rookie in the advertising game, it didn’t take me long to realise what the good, the bad, the ugly, and the truth really are in our industry.

The good thing about advertising in 2018 is that advertisers have (more than ever) access to almost every advertising platform there is. #convenientAF

The bad thing about advertising in 2018 is that, again, advertisers have (more than ever) access to almost every advertising platform there is. This access gives manipulative and deceitful companies and individuals a voice. One with which, if they pay enough, can be the loudest voice we hear on a daily basis.

The ugliest thing about access to advertising is that the human brain is programmed to see mistakes, first and foremost. We tend to spot minor mistakes instead of appreciating major successes. That’s just how our brains work. This is why the ads that appeal to us most often project the message “this is what you’re missing” or “this is what’s wrong with you”.

The truth is, you always have a choice. A choice to see advertising as a mere suggestion for products and services you might like. A choice to say no to the kind of advertising that tells you what you should be, who you should look like, and how you should respond to certain things.

The absolute truth is, that we can always change our perception. Exposing this truth, as Odell and many before her have, can create enough change that empowers, promotes positivity, and affects people’s well-being for good.

New Zealand Advertising in the 70s and 80s

Someone once opined that if you could remember the 60s you weren’t there. It is a pithy statement, clever and succinct, if not entirely accurate. But there is enough truth in it to give some of us who were “there” a certain smugness, not because we survived it, but because we remember it.

I feel much the same way about working in advertising in the 70s and the 80s. I was there and for various reasons (unrelated to the prevailing and residual habits of the 60s), I should have forgotten most of what occurred then.

I haven’t. And with good reason; much of what I experienced, observed, or heard of back then is so outrageous and so unbelievable, that even if I wished I could get rid of them, I wouldn’t be able to. It’s all indelibly printed in my memory.

The 70s and the 80s are the eras of great advertising in New Zealand. The profession itself was changing. The “suit” dominated agencies were in decline, to be replaced by creativity front and centre, as the post-war baby boomers entered the profession, and a pocket-sized pirate radio ship called Tiri changed the media-scape.

It was an era that produced some of our greatest-ever television advertising: Labour’s “It’s Time” (1972), the “Great Crunchie Train Robbery” (1975), KFC’s “Hugo and Holly” (1975), BASF’s “Dear John” (1981), and Toyota’s “Crumpy and Scotty” (1982) to name just a few.

However, remarkably perhaps, the ads were somewhat less interesting than the people who created them. And if advertising back then already had a credibility perception issue, then persuading people that these bizarre events and the individuals behind these ads were real and true was an even harder sell.

But I will try.

I worked for Colenso—one of the hot three; the others were MacHarman Ayer, and Saatchi and Saatchi. Colenso was notorious on so many levels. It produced the infamous “Dancing Cossacks” campaign for the National Party in the 1975 general election. It also produced some of the most bizarre scenes I experienced in advertising: the art director who used his own blood to paint an ad layout after lacerating his hand by hitting a wall when his original layout was rejected; the same art director trying to kill his writer during a creative dispute; the wonderfully named art-director/writer team, Al Rapone and Doug Maroney, and the great chainsaw massacre of 1975 when Rapone, in a fit of pique at the loss of the creative’s “rest-area” to make way for an account executive’s office, decided to demolish it with a chainsaw—while we were in it.

On a more productive note, these mad men also created many of the commercials I mentioned earlier. Colenso was also home to one of the giants of our industry—the late, great Len Potts.

Down the road in Parnell, Bob Harvey was making great advertising and a legend out of himself. Delightfully mad, Bob was one of the few suits who understood creativity. Those of us who were there can’t forget him telling the Klisser Family (Vogel’s) that he had arranged for Dr. Henry Kissinger, who was then the most famous German Jew in the world, to come to New Zealand to endorse their bread. That came as a complete surprise to the creatives in the room who had just presented something entirely different.  When asked after the meeting how long he had known about Dr. Kissinger and why he hadn’t told us about it, Bob’s self-assured response was that he had made it up on the spot—that the presentation was going so badly, he had to come up with something. “It is now up to you to make it work,” was his parting shot as he skipped out of the room. Of course, Kissinger never happened.

Work hard, play hard is another often-used (and over-used) phrase. It also often used as a badge of honour; we in Colenso in the 70s, and for me later in the 80s at MacHarman Ayer Advertising, certainly thought it as such. I remember a cartoon in a Thursday magazine showing two people looking up at Colenso’s building in Whitaker Place. There is a party going on in the fourth and fifth floors (Colenso’s). One person turns to the other and says, “Colenso is starting their Christmas party early this year.” The other replies, “Nah, that’s last year’s still going.”

Later in the late 80s, that role, that reputation, was usurped by the money-men and the stock-market traders. Advertising never recovered it. Maybe, no longer wanted it.

Is it still a badge of honour for us today? Probably not.

However, it remains a memory—a beautiful memory of a time when a lot of what we did didn’t make a lot of sense. But, the ads we did? Those were ads of an age that are now ageless.

Saatchi & Saatchi - the Kings of Advertising

Few advertising agencies are instantly recognisable by name outside of advertising circles.

One that is, is Saatchi & Saatchi. Not only is the agency widely known in New Zealand, but it is also treated by the public at large with awe, reverence, and even gratitude. The reason is that Saatchi & Saatchi’s New Zealand operation has, through the years, given us some of our most loved local advertising. They include, most notably, Toyota’s “Crumpy” series, and making Tui’s “Yeah Right” campaign (created originally by Mojo Advertising); which was one New Zealand’s most anticipated advertising campaigns of all time.

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It is true that they are not the force they once were, here or worldwide. But credit where credit is due; at its height, Saatchi & Saatchi brought a new wave of creativity into advertising. They gave creativity an almost tangible quality. You could almost taste it. Before Saatchi & Saatchi, advertising was formulaic and risk-averse. Saatchi & Saatchi, through their UK ads for Margaret Thatcher and their other clients, created advertising that was provocative, compelling and had a real affinity with its audience.

Not bad for two brothers born in Baghdad.

The creative brain behind the business was Charles Saatchi. Long before becoming a reclusive art collector and his much-publicised falling out with wife Nigella Lawson, Charles Saatchi was an acclaimed copywriter working on accounts such as Ford and Selfridges department stores. He entered advertising first, in 1965, followed five years later by his younger brother Maurice.

In 1970, the two started Saatchi & Saatchi with the goal—at least of Maurice—of becoming the largest advertising agency in the world. By the end of the 1970s, they reached No. 1 in the UK. In May 1986, Saatchi acquired US-based Ted Bates Advertising, and with that acquisition, Maurice achieved his goal.

And here we come to an intriguing paradox: the tenuous link between creativity and commercialism, or, to put it another way; whatever happened to Charles Saatchi?

Charles Saatchi, brilliant copywriter though he was, was never comfortable with being at the forefront of his business. He shied away from publicity. Maurice, on the other hand, was the gregarious brother—outgoing, and constantly wining and dining existing and potential clients; always looking for ways to expand the Saatchi & Saatchi empire.

It is not known what Charles thought of his brother’s behaviour. He remained an enigma—reclusive and notoriously reticent to make any public comment on anything to do with the business.

What is known is that, as the business grew, Charles increasingly withdrew; initially from the commercial involvement and then from the creative side. While Maurice’s reputation grew, Charles’ influence dwindled to the point that his presence became little more than ceremonial. Eventually, he withdrew from all active involvement in the business.

Why, may never be known. Charles Saatchi is certainly not telling. But it is interesting to hypothesise that perhaps he did feel that commercialism and creativity were uneasy bedfellows. That he could draw a distinction between them that none of us working in advertising could see or would support.

Perhaps that made him uncomfortable.

Today, and largely through his own creativity and the business activity of his brother, Charles Saatchi is an immensely wealthy man. What he is not, any longer, is an advertising man.

That is of his own choosing—but the advertising profession lost a great one there.

Leo Burnett: The art of belief

He was the advertising giant who understood what people really want.

Starting an advertising agency is difficult even in the best of times. Starting one in the worst of times—the Great Depression of the 1930s—defies belief. Yet in Leo Burnett’s case, that is exactly what it took—belief, and a lot of it.

The Depression had a firm grip on Chicago in 1935, but that didn’t deter the former Cadillac Motor Company employee. He mortgaged his home and started his advertising agency with $50,000 capital, and a bowl of red delicious apples in reception.

Until that time, Burnett’s only experience with advertising agencies was employing them, first as Cadillac’s advertising manager, and then as the advertising manager of Cadillac’s competitor: LaFayette Motors. It is perhaps the supreme irony that the financial failure of the latter was the motivation for Leo Burnett to join the advertising agency he had employed to save it.

Leo Burnett started as a copywriter. His distinctive copy-style was simple and evocative. He was characterised as the writing equivalent of the iconic Norman Rockwell. Like Rockwell, he could evoke middle-America and its perception of itself.

Significantly, and arguably, he was the first of the advertising greats to put the consumer first. He believed in the consumer, understood the consumer, and shared—he believed—their needs and values.

It seems a simple precept today, but back in the 30s it was exactly that belief and the belief that he could offer the giants of industry something different that lead him to start his agency with eight staff and the aforementioned apples.

Incidentally, one of those staff was Draper Daniels, who is believed to have been the inspiration for Mad Men’s Don Draper. That said, there are others, including David Ogilvy, of whom that claim has been made. Draper Daniels has at least the name in common.

By the late 50s, Leo Burnett emerged as the prime mover of advertising’s creative revolution—prompted in part by the advent of television. His agency handled some of the largest clients of the time, among them: Proctor & Gamble, General Motors, United Airlines, Kellogg’s, and Shiltz Beer. Among the great advertising icons that Burnett and his team created are the Jolly Green Giant, Pillsbury Dough Boy, and the legendary Marlboro Man.

In 1999, Time Magazine named Leo Burnett as one of the 100 most influential people of the 20th century. Today, the agency he started has 9,000 employees in 85 offices globally, and legend has it there is still a bowl of apples in every reception.

There is little doubt that Leo Burnett took a risk back in 1935. The timing couldn’t have been worse for a fledgling advertising agency. But he made it work—for its first few years the agency billed an extraordinary $1 million annually. Today of course, we are talking in the billions.

Could Leo Burnett have pulled it off today? I think so. There is a certain indefatigable approach taken by young people entering advertising today and those that break away from established agencies to form their own. Many fail, of course. But many, through talent and persistence and one other factor, succeed.

What is that other factor? It is nothing new—we mentioned it earlier and it is something that motivated Leo Burnett to start his agency against all odds in 1935. It is belief. Belief in ourselves, belief in advertising, belief that somehow, somewhere it (advertising) can be done better, and belief that we are the people that can do it.

Bryce Courtenay - The Power of Creativity

Bryce Courtenay: the advertising executive who went exploring.

It is not uncommon among “creatives” working in advertising to yearn for a higher calling. This is not to denigrate what they are doing now; most are entirely satisfied with being perceived as someone with the gift of being able to create something from nothing…and being paid for it. Some even wallow in the nomenclature—perpetuate it and accentuate it (and therein is a warning for clients—the paymasters—you buy a show-pony at your peril; get yourself a healthy dose of pragmatism as well—somebody that really takes the time to get to know you and your product).

Nevertheless, for most creatives there is always something else, something out there. Something for which their “gift” could be more usefully employed than simply selling—say—Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Such was the case with Australian advertising doyen Bryce Courtenay. Despite an illustrious and lengthy career in advertising that saw him create legendary characters such as Louie the Fly and the original Milkybar Kid, Courtenay wanted more.

As with many copywriters, that meant a novel.

Little wonder, considering that Courtenay’s early life reads like a work of fiction. Born in a small village in the Lebombo Mountains near the Limpopo River of South Africa, Courtenay was the product of an affair. He spent his early years in an orphanage; when he went to work, it was in the copper mines of Rhodesia where, he claimed, he never showered without a knife or a pistol for fear of being raped. Later he travelled to London to study journalism. It was there that he met his first wife: Australian, Benita Solomon. It was because of Benita that he moved permanently to Australia and his writing career began.

Nobody can say for sure what attracted the young journalist to advertising. However, it is fair to assume—through later events—that it was the opportunity to create rather than report; to wake each morning knowing that by the end of the day you will have created—you hope—something from nothing.

For twenty-five years Courtenay did it and did it well, first as creative director at McCann Erickson, then J. Walter Thompson, and finally, George Patterson Advertising. He had risen to the top of his profession.

But, he wanted more.

Courtenay told me over dinner that it was in the mid-1980s when exhausted and with serious health issues, he decided that he would leave his high-living (three bottles of wine and a packet of cigarettes a day), high-paid job in advertising and became an author. The deal he made with Benita was that he would set aside three years for the purpose. The first year, he would dedicate to writing a practice novel; the second year would be dedicated to writing an “actual” novel, and the third to writing one more novel, if unsuccessful, in his second year. If after three years he was not published, Courtenay would, he promised Benita, return to advertising.

There is a story behind the rest of the story, and how much of it is true, as told to me, I cannot say. Suffice to say that Courtney’s “practice” novel, The Power of One, earned him an advance of US$1.0 million and became a highly successful film. He went on to write 23 books and sell 20 million copies to became one of Australia’s most prolific and revered authors.

Yet for all his fame and despite having met his commitment to Benita on his first try, something interesting, something more compelling happened to Courtenay—he returned to advertising.

It wasn’t full-time and there was certainly no financial necessity. So, what pulled him back in? Perhaps it was because Bryce Courtenay went exploring. He set out to find that higher calling: a copywriter turned published author. Perhaps he was disappointed in what he found. Perhaps in the solitary life of an author he missed the collaborative approach which is an innate part of great advertising.

Or was it something more?

Bryce Courtenay was known to extravagate. He once said, “I take a fact, put a top hat on it, a silk shirt, and a bow tie.” I know what he meant by that—to take a fact—a product—and make it special.

That, is the power of advertising.

That, is perhaps what pulled him back.

David Ogilvy

David Mackenzie Ogilvy, a Scotsman, was king of American advertising for a hefty chunk of the mid-20th Century.

He ruled largely by decree. His principles of effective advertising which he espouses in his seminal autobiography, Ogilvy on Advertising, became part of advertising law and lore. Many of them still permeate the advertising industry today, though their author is largely unknown by the millennials for whom the past is more an encumbrance than an asset.

Still, in his day there were few inside and outside of advertising who didn’t know the name David Ogilvy. He was arguably the best copywriter of his time and some of the campaigns he created are now classics. It is widely believed that Madman’s Don Draper is modelled after him—and it is true that the consummate self-promoter, David Ogilvy, became advertising’s first superstar, predating the likes of the Saatchi brothers.

Yet, despite this and despite coming up with such socially progressive mantras as “The customer is not a moron, she’s your wife”, David Ogilvy and many of his views on advertising would today be far from effective and, to paraphrase another advertising doyen, John Wanamaker, would fall squarely into the half of an advertising budget that is wasted.

The reason is that the premise of just about everything Ogilvy created was based on two governing principles: research and the need to sell. In principle, that sounds fine, but the world has changed since Ogilvy’s day and indeed changes daily. So has advertising. So must advertising. The trouble with research and focus on selling being governing factors is that neither allows flexibility and both are time-consuming. I am not saying that they shouldn’t find a home as part of the creative process. They deserve to have some say. But we also must acknowledge that the expectations and influences that pervade today’s market(s) are so diverse and often contradictory that the one size fits all philosophy is largely ineffectual and often counter-productive.

I’ll give you one example: gender. Gender isn’t important anymore. In fact, it is dangerously important. That’s why linking, even by implication, morons and wives would be unacceptable today. Ogilvy got away with it then because the sexes—all two of them—were stereotyped. There are more than two today and none can be accurately categorised in term of attitude, behaviour, beliefs and, importantly for us, buying habits.

That’s why sales and selling cannot be the sole focus, let alone the purpose, of advertising. Today’s consumer—and, by the way even the word consumer, is archaic and somewhat demeaning—demands more. They don’t want to be “sold” something, they want authority over the buying process. People do not buy goods and services. They buy relationships, stories, and magic, and in this age of the hideously-termed Fake News, advertisers had better make sure that they deliver. Hyperbole has its use as a sweetener but for a market that is saying to us “convince me,” it is simply no longer enough.

Given space, I could cite many other reasons why David Ogilvy’s innate inflexibility should be consigned to advertising’s once revered but now rusting toolbox. Don’t get me wrong: in his day David Ogilvy was a legend. But, he and his basic—very basic—beliefs have had their day.

Still and by way of tribute to Mr Ogilvy and the other legends of advertising who swept advertising into the forefront of marketing, I give you this:

Oscar Wide said imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. What then of lampooning? One of David Ogilvy’s most famous print headlines was, “At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in the new Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock”; I think it was Jaguar who responded with, “(With Jaguar) At 60 miles an hour, you don’t even hear the clock.”

Clever that.

How private is Facebook?

On the first of May, Facebook announced that they’re adding “Clear History” as a privacy tool.

Before I get into the nitty gritty of this update, I just want you to know, dear reader, that I will take on this blog in two ways:

• as a Facebook user and

• as someone whose job includes advertising on Facebook.

There are currently 2.20 billion monthly active Facebook users as per the first quarter of 2018, worldwide. As one of the users in this statistic, I, in all honesty don’t really care for this update. I mean, it’s good to be reassured by Facebook that we have the option to delete our cookies and history. But my personal problem with this is, Facebook will always have these records anyway. How else are they supposed to sell advertising space if not by analysing their users’ activities?

It comes down to each one of the 2.20 billion users’ discretion. Whether we admit it or not, if we sign up for a Facebook account, we trust the platform to a large degree. Some of us can be completely ignorant as to how it really works (so we post and post and post away). While some of us are sceptics and have said time and again that we’re giving up Facebook for good but we can’t seem to do so. Why? Because to some degree, social media has dictated our existence. Ever heard of “If you’re not on Facebook, do you even exist”?

Better yet, check out this video about ‘A Modern Dating Horror Story’. No spoilers here, just see it for yourself and I promise, you’ll shake your head in agreement.

I was in high school when I created my Facebook account, which was over 10 years ago. Yes, it’s been around for a while now. If you told me then that my future career would involve being on Facebook every single day, I would have laughed. Now, as someone whose job includes advertising on Facebook, it’s come to my attention that Facebook and other social media platforms has evolved into something more essential to people than we’d like to admit.

Since taking on the path of a career in advertising, I’ve become more aware of how social media works and the truth is, it can be extremely invasive of privacy. With the responsibility of having multiple advertisers’ accounts under my belt, I’d want to know as much as I can about the audience of every account. Which, of course, involves getting information from Facebook, such as their demographics and interests.

You might be asking why is it even important for companies to have a presence on Facebook. My answer to that is the same quote as I’ve mentioned previously: “If you’re not on Facebook, do you even exist?” It comes down to an existence based on familiarity. Familiarity that can only be achieved through constant invasion of your mind space, attacking your privacy day by day.

Privacy is important, but sadly, that’s not how businesses work. We need to know what you like or what you might be interested in so you wouldn’t get irrelevant ads. However, most of us never thought through (or rather, never read the terms and conditions) how sinister just being on social media is. We willingly engage in activities that take away our privacy every single day. Information that we’d never give away in our daily lives. If a bus driver says you can only hop on the bus by giving them your complete name, date of birth, and contact information, would you do it?

We give away so much that it’s become bewildering how brand awareness can be increased through social media. We’re all exposed to as many as 5,000 ads every single day. Kiwis alone spend an average of 50 minutes on Facebook daily, and with each scroll, click, and tap, Facebook determines the ads that pop-up on your news feed. So whether you notice them or not, you’re subconsciously seeing ads. You might not remember all of them at once but when your memory is triggered, chances are it’s because of an ad that you saw earlier.

Facebook and social media has gained an immense amount of power because we worship it through consumption. Anything that’s given that much attention has the capability to take over our thoughts and behaviour. Whoever dictated that social media defines your existence anyway? If you were born, you exist. If you created a business, it exists. But who says that you have to give up your privacy in order to truly exist? Just because you exist on social media, doesn’t mean you matter – and even if you don’t exist on social media, you still matter.

Advertisers would do just about anything for you to know they exist and to end up consuming their products or services. Even if it means becoming background noise for a while. We’re all used to seeing so many ads and what advertisers really spend their money on is to get your attention. Your attention is a valuable thing, and my job to tailor ads in such a way that you’ll give me permission to feed you these ads. Think of it as you socialising with your mates and suddenly, a sales person walks up to you and says “hello, you need this product!”

In summary, we can never go off the grid unless we live in a cave in the middle of nowhere. If privacy were an animal, it would be extinct. As users and advertisers, we can only hope that everyone on the platform has a good enough moral compass to respect everyone’s privacy – but we have to accept the fact that we’re never going to be completely private as long as we keep using these platforms.