I have some regrets in life. One regret is that I never bought a Herman Cain for president t-shirt.
Not that I ever supported Herman Cain. I just thought it would be funny to wear a shirt supporting a goofy dude who said some weird stuff, who was leading the polls and whose campaign suddenly and comically self destructed.
So this campaign season I was determined to not make the same mistake. Because like they say: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on Trump. Read more
Dress codes are simultaneously infuriating and amusing, like presidential candidates.
They were the topic for Jason, Caleb, and me on our last #WhatsNext in the Accounting Profession Blab. I thought it would be a fun, light topic, easy to make fun of, but not too deep. Turns out, dress codes are a quick path to the seventh circle of HR.
This week, I asked some friends who work at two different mid-size CPA firms to send me their company’s dress codes. And it turns out they are awesome.
For one company, under “Examples of Not Acceptable Attire” they listed “stirrup pants,” “bolo ties,” and “bathing suits.” Bathing Suits?! How the hell do bathing suits get explicitly banned on the dress code?
Audit Manager: “Hey, Rebecca, are you ready to head to the client’s office for … what the f**k?! Are you wearing a swimsuit?” Read more
Over the years, I’ve developed a skepticism of brands, a healthy one I hope. And I would venture to say you have too. One ad after another, all making claims to be the best thing ever. Common sense tells us it can’t actually be — we all want to believe that particular cologne/perfume is going to make us instantly magnetic, but we know better. And then there’s one purchase after another; many don’t live up to the hype, some do, some do to begin with, but don’t last. Each of these experiences eats away at our ability to believe, to trust.
Brands can be so impersonal — marketing messages connect us to the brand, and humans become merely the means to get to the brand. Ads create a desire for Cheerios, and supermarkets and checkout registers are just a delivery mechanism to acquire Cheerios for ourselves. The quicker and easier, the better. Products, not humans, are the end. (Or perhaps more accurately, the emotional state promised by the products.)
But brands are real, right? I mean, after all, there’s Coca-Cola, Apple, Southwest, and Rolls Royce. They must truly exist. Or do they? Maybe they’re just made up. Maybe they only exist simply because we all agree they exist. Sorta like language — we all agree this scrawled shape on a piece of paper constitutes a letter, “d” we’ll call it. And we agree that it makes a particular, recognizable sound formed by our mouths and tongues. And when combined with the two other scrawled shapes “o” and “g,” signifies those panting, four-legged furry creatures in our homes. Read more
I suck at cars.
-a brand involves a set of expectations, memories and stories. There are definitely certain things you expect when you are talking about Dolly Parton (some I would blush to mention in this blog post), as well as the memories of her songs and the stories you’ve heard about her.
-you will pay a premium for the brand. You will pay a premium to see and hear Dolly’s music live.
-you will choose a brand over something else. Obviously, Dolly Parton is not for everyone, but you have to admit that she has a cult following.
The idea of serving a niche is so counterintuitive. By choosing to focus on one segment of a market, you are saying no to others. This idea came up a few years ago in a conversation between Jason and me. (I remember where I was standing.) It scared me. Money was tight, and he was suggesting we focus ONLY on serving people in creative professions (web design and development mostly). At that point, we had only a handful of customers in that field, but they were Jason’s favorites and he wanted to serve more of them. But what about the construction companies, lawyers, dentists, veterinarians, and manufacturing customers we had at the time?