posted by Ronan Doyle, Creative Director

I lie for a living. I’m as trustworthy as a car salesman. I’m always trying to sell you something you don’t need. I’m slick, and I’ll say anything to get your money out of your wallet, and into mine.

I’m an ad man. And as such, I’ve been called a lot of things.

Advertising has consistently ranked among the least respected professions in America. In a 2009 study, we were right down there with shamed stockbrokers, lobbyists, congressmen, and lawyers.

Well, that’s some slick company, for sure. Too bad it’s entirely untrue. Of course, being as slick as we are, the irony is not lost on us that while we’re in the business of creating images, we’re the ones with the image problem. The real fact of the matter, however, is that those in the advertising business don’t actually peddle lies at all. If anything, it’s just the opposite. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that what we really are, are purveyors of truth.

Throughout the history of advertising the most effective and memorable campaigns are the ones built on truth. Or, what I like to call each brand’s universal human truth. After all, you can’t hold someone’s attention long enough to affect a behavioral change unless you’ve captured their attention to begin with. And the best way to capture attention is through agreement. When we in the ad biz uncover the singlular, simple truth in a brand, we’ve uncovered the one thing that everyone can relate to.

Sounds simple, right? Well, it’s actually anything but. And the reason why is because the universal truth in a brand isn’t always as obvious as you’d think. And sometimes, it’s not even very good news at all. For example, one of the strongest, most effective, and most loved ad campaigns of all time is one built upon the realization, and acceptance of an unfortunate truth.

The Campaign: Got Milk?*

Before this campaign could enter our media, our minds, our popular culture, and t-shirt shops across the world, the agency and client had to realize the universal truth about milk: Milk is never a star. It is always, and only, a co-star. Milk is an accompaniment to other things, but doesn’t stand alone.  The acceptance that one’s brand is not important to people unless paired with something else is bad news at a glance. But what they did with it turned it into something stronger than any product benefit ever could be. They showed that without milk, so many other things aren’t nearly as good. It was real, powerful, and true.

Not only can a brand’s universal truth be an obstacle to overcome, such as a brand that plays second fiddle like milk, but a brand’s universal truth can also be something that’s not exclusive to that brand at all. Sometimes, with so much parity among brands today, the universal truth of a brand is also the universal truth of the category. In this case, he who says it best, or says it first, wins.

The Campaign: America Runs on Dunkin’**

This simple sentiment, which completely re-branded Dunkin’ Donuts is not something that only Dunkin’ Donuts could say… but it’s what they said, and said big. The fact is, America runs on coffee. It’s seen in everyday life and in pop culture, around the country and around the world. Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee. I’m useless until my second cup, and so on. Any company that offers coffee as their centerpiece could have said it, but Dunkin’ did. And now, Dunkin’ owns it. The universal truth in the Dunkin’ brand is so much bigger than Dunkin’ Donuts as a company. It’s a truth about how Americans begin their day, and by harnessing it, Dunkin’ made it theirs.

So, while we advertising practitioners will most likely always be thought of as slick, sleazy liars, the truth is that what we deal in is genuinely simple realities that consumers relate to. We uncover the most common, relatable benefit, and we communicate from it. The fact is – we deal in the truth. How ironic.

*Got Milk? created by Goodby, Silverstein & Partners

**America Runs on Dunkin’ created by Hill | Holliday

by Ronan Doyle, Creative Director

As I roll into my 12^th year in the advertising business I can’t help but look back at the very unlikely path that led me here, and what it was that first had me thinking that this is something I could do, and do well.

I didn’t set out to be a copywriter when I headed off to college. I was a business major briefly, believing I’d be happy as a bank manager. There was no real foundation to this desire other than the fact that our family friend with the best cars and houses was a VP at a bank. I loved his cool contemporary home, and his classic ’71 Mercedes, so I wanted to do what he did. I then considered psychology because I had a great psych 101 professor who entertained me, and had me thinking that a better understanding of psychology would allow me to get a handle on my own bizarre neurosis. Like, for example, my need to have the inner most pleat on my pants ironed carefully into the crease of the legs. Thank God for flat front chinos.

It wasn’t until I was a senior in college that I even became aware of advertising as a career. Previously, my only knowledge of it was Angela Bower’s agency on Who’s The Boss. I was too young to be a 30 Something viewer, so I unfortunately missed that stellar show, and its portrayal of the ad biz. The more creatively driven assignments that my communications or marketing classes offered up, the better I did. Suddenly, acing a class became second nature. This stuff just made sense to me. After all, success in advertising seems to require a little business, a little psychology, and a lot of neurosis.  All my learning to that point had prepared me well.

Of course, knowing nothing about the structure of an ad agency, copywriter wasn’t something that was on my radar at all. I was taking a much more macro approach and began to think that I simply wanted to pursue advertising.

I graduated. I began sending letters to ad agencies. I was obviously getting nowhere because I had no idea what, exactly, I was going to do within the walls of those agencies. Then I saw an ad. A print ad for Volkswagon. I was waiting, coincidentally, to have the tires on my car replaced, and was flipping through the magazines in the waiting room. I don’t remember the headline of the ad at all. I barely remember the layout. I do know it was for a Jetta (we’ll come back to that later) and I do remember what I found so remarkable about the ad: the fine print.

Somewhere buried below a photograph, in 8-pt italicized type was some legal jargon about MSRP and extra options shown in the photograph. Must’ve been a price ad, come to think of it. But then, as I read the final line of the legal copy, I knew exactly what I wanted to spend my career doing. The line read: Always wear your safety belt. And we’ve heard some good things about beta carotene, too. I re-read it. And re-read it again. And I knew that someone did that. Someone intentionally snuck that simple little joke into the legal copy. And some company, in this case Volkswagon, liked it enough to let it through. And I knew that I was going to do that. I knew I could. I knew that I could spend my life thinking of ways to communicate ideas. And that I could find as much pleasure in the tiniest details as in the broadest strokes. And that there were companies out there, like Volkswagon, who would keep coming back saying, “give us more,” and that I would be happy to do it. And that the smallest little things I could think of would add to the personality of a brand, and make it just a little more special than it already was.

That VW ad, with it’s quirky little legal copy that was probably overlooked by 90% or more of its readers, changed my life. It also served the company that approved it well, because later that year, I bought a VW Jetta. And I did so because I knew I was part of a really cool club of people who chose a company like VW that’s juts a little different, and cares a lot about the details. And then, with my Jetta, I went into advertising. Which works out pretty well when you think back to that pants pleats OCD of mine, since the life of a creative means rarely, if ever, wearing pants that need ironing.

It should be news to no one that 2009 was a less than buoyant retail year.  OK, it was a spectacularly abysmal year.  Retailers’ reaction to the crash and burn economy of latter 2008, and anticipation of imminent lackluster consumer demand (what demand..??), resulted in historically low levels of new-goods inventories for 2009 –a true deplenishment of supply across the board, and rightly so.  This glass is half-empty.

Ah, but can this glass be viewed as half-full today? I believe perhaps, yes. Earlier this morning, I went online to purchase and replace my much cherished (read: well-worn and disintegrating) slippers from my favorite Maine retailer, only to find out that no slippers are available until May 16^th, four long, cold months from now. In the dead of a freezing New England winter, this famed Maine store is out-of-stock of a cold-weather staple until late spring. Wow. Now I’m frustrated, with cold feet mind you, BUT, optimistically, I see the glass is half-full. Why, you ask? Well, here’s why. Simply speaking, without any real demand from the market, the consequent reaction in the supply chain is to reduce, recede, refrain. And we have all felt the repercussions of that, thank you very much. The situation eventually drops so low it cannot really go any lower but up (prevailing question is when and how fast, but that’s for another time). Inevitably, people need to replenish some goods at some level – I find myself needing to replenish some goods, at some level… now… today. This, I maintain, bodes well for the economy.

GDP for fourth quarter of 2009 increased at an annual rate of 5.7%, the fastest pace in more than six years. Quite nice, although many economists debate the sustainability of this pace of growth while most businesses remain skittish about hiring — which brings us to today. This week, we have learned of President Obama’s $3.8 trillion budget for fiscal 2011, which includes a jobs bill that could cost around $100 billion. In addition to small business credits and continued state aid, the White House has proposed a $30 billion job creation plan that would give employers $5,000 dollars for each new hire. This is a good start. Perhaps a really good, optimistic, glass half-full start.

Today, I feel warmer and cozier about the potential to turn this moribund economy around, although, and quite ironically, my feet are not so much.

Posted by Karen Albrektsen, Partner/COO

Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page here. The internet is great, right? Not just because we can find - intentionally or not — endless amounts of free porn, discount Viagra from India, and yet another way to make up to $5000 a week in our spare time from the comforts of our Snuggies, but because we can talk to everyone, all the time, for free.

We can be “friends” with people who used to beat us up in high school, we can relentlessly stalk ex-lovers in relative anonymity, and we can find an audience with total strangers that we may never meet. After all, you’re reading this, aren’t you?

But in the marketing world, the internet has given us the greatest gift of all: Time. In the glorious, envied, and certainly gone days of Mad Men, marketers relied on newspaper ads that ended up lining birdcages, TV commercials viewed briefly only by those with TVs, and radio ads on an am dial. We had a few brief moments between AP stories, and 30 second moments to engage, capture and sell. Today, we have all the time in the world. What the internet has given us is the opportunity to not just capture people’s attention for thirty seconds, but to hold their attention for as long as we’re capable.

That’s awesome. But it’s also an awesome challenge. To capture attention, and keep it, isn’t as easy as it looks. There are, of course, easy ways to do it. Endless dick jokes http://www.durexdickorations.com/, creepy chickens wearing garters http://www.bk.com/en/us/campaigns/subservient-chicken.html, or the ultimate in voyeuristic satisfaction http://archive.bigspaceship.com/hbovoyeur/. All of these examples are great. They took a lot of work and creativity. And some, at least, cost a fortune.

But what if we have to sell allergy medecine, and we’re given a blank page, and all the time in the world. How do we engage, and entertain while sharing all the pertinent, necessary and legally required information? It’s a challenge, but certainly not one that’s insurmountable. I’ve always had one sustaining belief that has gotten me through the dark hours of this business. That belief is that if you have to say it, say it well.

Years ago, back in the golden age of Mad Men, Leo Burnett said, “Too many ads that try not to go over the reader’s head end up beneath his notice.” I don’t think truer words have been spoken about our industry. The audience is not stupid. I’ve had creative directors who told me the audience is most certainly stupid. I’ve had clients insist it. But the fact of the matter is, the audience is not stupid. The audience is brilliant. Or, at the very least, the audience is well trained. At the task of receiving and processing commercial messages, the audience — every member — has a friggin’ PhD. Throughout advertising history we’ve had the responsibility to capture attention. For thirty seconds, for one minute, for a few moments on the pages of a magazine. But today, we have to capture, hold, and reward that attention. I’d argue that we’ll never do so by talking down to the people who we need so much. And we don’t need dick jokes or screaming or gimmicks. We need to say it well, and say it truthfully.

Leo Burnett also said, “I have learned that it is far easier to write a speech about good advertising than it is to write a good ad.” So with that, I’ll end this lecture and write some ads. After all, there’s nothing honest about hypocrisy.

Posted by Ronan Doyle, Partner/Creative Director

We’re ad execs. Mad Men. Jingle-writers. We draw pretty pictures. Make up “slogans” and sell you more stuff you don’t need day in and day out. But c’mon… we have some morals. And, we have a unique talent. If YOU could do this even remotely well, you wouldn’t pay us for it. And trust us, you don’t do this well.

But even us ad folk have to draw the line somewhere. There has got to be some product that we just wouldn’t sell, no matter how much you paid us. We discussed it, and we’ve figured it out.

Dick Cheney Cigarettes for kids. THAT, we wouldn’t sell. Ahh… and now, a good night’s sleep.

Posted by Ronan Doyle, Partner/Creative Director

Randy Olson’s new book, Don’t be such a scientist: Talking substance in an age of style, is a read that should be on the gift list of every ad agency client in the country. Dr. Olson’s premise, broken down to a single though for the purposes of this blog, is simple: Just because you find it utterly fascinating, doesn’t mean that everyone does. Putting forth scientific argument is no easy task. But what far too many scientists don’t realize is that science, while complex in the details, is rather simple looked at in broad strokes. Easy to understand… interesting, even.

Unfortunately, most scientists know the chemistry, not the story-telling. Perhaps they should take a lesson from Einstein. When asked to explain the theory of relativity he replied with a smile (or so I assume), “Put your hand on a hot stove for a second and it feels like an hour. But sit next to a pretty girl for an hour, and it feels like a second. That’s relativity.” Perfect. Brilliant. Genius, even. More or less the entire premise behind the theory of relativity explained in a way that a 6th grader could understand.

As the son of a scientist, Dr. Olson’s book certainly strikes a cord with me personally. But the message applies perfectly to another business that also hits close to home. Advertising. Instead of a scientist… we have clients. But they suffer from the exact same ailments. They know their brand, product, service, etc better than anyone, and as a result they are completely incapable of saying anything about with any style whatsoever. Perhaps that’s good. Perhaps that’s why I’m in business. Our clients hire us to talk about their brand in ways they can’t. And it applies to almost anything, but right now I’m reminded of it as I watch the political ads here in Massachusetts. Both a Mayoral race is underway, and a Democratic primary for Ted Kennedy’s seat. Political advertising is one of the biggest media buys on television. Last year $2.6 billion was spent on campaign media alone. But all of those ads, those hundreds of ads may as well have been just one. After all, do you remember a single one? I don’t. And remembering ads is my business. Political ads all have some cheesy b-roll of the candidate looking like a douche, as their unprofessional voice-over awkwardly dribbles out promises and catch phrases written by campaign managers and 21-year-old interns.

What these political candidates seem to be unwilling to learn, realize or accept is that advertising works, and good advertising works better. Imagine if one of these days someone put a little style into those political ads. I bet you we could get just about anyone elected, if we do it with finesse. Everyone just needs to think a little less like Einstein the scientis, and a little more like Einstein the poet.

Posted by Ronan Doyle, Partner/Creative Director

Something all agencies can relate to: Waiting for the RFP results. (sigh)