Social Media ROI: The Squirrel Method

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Recently, dur­ing a pleas­ant sum­mer morn­ing cud­dled up with my daugh­ters watch­ing a grip­ping episode of Avatar, the Last Air­ben­der, som­per­cei­ething caught my eye. It’s hard to do that dur­ing Avatar. But, senses aroused, I trained my eye on the mir­ror in my liv­ing room and saw it. There was a squir­rel in the house.

Squirrel intruder

Creative Commons License photo credit: robert­pauly­oung

My three year old had left the back door open and was about to be enter­tained by an hour’s worth of effort to get the squir­rel out.

At the end of the hour, we left Jodi with the scared bushy-tailed fel­low now cling­ing to a win­dow mould­ing and went out for ice-cream.We tried open­ing the doors and dis­ap­pear­ing upstairs. We tried whistling, coax­ing, and googling. To no avail.

And she got him out. By leav­ing a trail of peanut but­ter drops out the door.

Flash for­ward to Mon­day morning.

Over a break­fast meet­ing, I was being asked the usual hard ques­tions about Social Media ROI. How do I quan­tify the return? How do I qual­ify the invest­ment? I counter-grilled by try­ing to get at what mag­i­cal met­rics they were get­ting from what they were doing previously.

Apart from announc­ing a sale one day and ask­ing the peo­ple who show up where they heard about the event, it’s pretty hard to quan­tify your ROI. Most of us do busi­ness with brands we trust. But I doubt those brands fac­tor what it took for them to be per­ceived as trust­wor­thy (employ­ees with a good upbring­ing? deliv­er­ing on time? clear com­mu­ni­ca­tions?) into their calculations.

Over the course of the meet­ing, I had suc­cess­fully trans­formed the entrepreneur’s per­spec­tive on the ben­e­fits of plan­ning to use the web strate­gi­cally before jump­ing at tac­tics. He felt com­fort­able artic­u­lat­ing to his part­ners the value of earn­ing the atten­tion of more qual­i­fied leads and build­ing rela­tion­ships with them.

As we were leav­ing, an anal­ogy struck me. Not that your prospects are squir­rels, but when you earn their atten­tion with some­thing they’re inter­ested in, lead them where you want them to go, and back off on the hard sell, you end up with a process where every­one wins.



When work is delicious

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Chocosol Matcha Tea choco­late treats

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Bizjak Niagara “Coral Star” Organic Peach heaven

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Terroni’s Brand Takes No Prisoners

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Servers at Ter­roni won’t sprin­kle cheese on your Spaghetti Canna a Mare (with Seafood), and that’s a good thing.

Stances like this one, and oth­ers (no cut­ting pizza, no but­ter on bread) stir up a lot of con­tro­versy. But Ter­roni takes a posi­tion on their brand, and they fer­vently pro­tect it.

Copy­blog­ger writer Brian Clark believes you must have courage to be a leader:

You need the courage to alien­ate the wrong peo­ple in order to res­onate with the right peo­ple. You need to stick to your con­vic­tions when peo­ple tell you you’re wrong sim­ply because your knowl­edge doesn’t mesh with their opinions.

The idea of “pro­tect­ing your brand” may con­jure up images of peo­ple sit­ting around board rooms dis­cussing the minu­tia of whether a par­tic­u­lar shade of red is con­sis­tent with the brand “iden­tity”. This is not what I’m talk­ing about. And this is not what I imag­ine Ter­roni does.

Brands that stand for some­thing, like Ter­roni, oper­ate from a gut level. Terroni’s mis­sion in life is to use, make and share authen­tic South­ern Ital­ian food. Authen­tic­ity is baked into every­thing they do. Just like you know which cloth­ing styles suit you and which don’t, good brands just know what ‘fits’ with who they are and what they believe in.

So, when a rel­a­tive of Terroni’s owner came back from Italy with a brightly pat­terned, highly tex­tured bag made by Ital­ian women inmates , they got in touch and started car­ry­ing Made In Carcere (Made in Prison) bags printed with the Ter­roni moniker. The bags and acces­sories are proudly dis­played at Ter­roni restau­rants right along­side the olive oil and tomato sauce.

The bags are recy­cled so they simul­ta­ne­ously give a “sec­ond chance” to the fab­ric they’re made from and the women who man­u­fac­ture them. The acces­sories all come from scraps left behind by high end Ital­ian fash­ion houses such as Cos­tume National.

Terroni’s co-owner Vince describes the look as “very Ital­ian” which for him prob­a­bly means “South­ern Ital­ian.” The South has the Mediter­ranean sea where one can imag­ine the per­fect beach-side set­ting for a lovely yel­low and white polka dot bag. It just fits with olives, capers, anchovies and all of the afford­able, fab­u­lous ingre­di­ents that define South­ern Ital­ian cooking.

If I’m wax­ing a bit poetic it’s because that’s the effect that Terroni’s sim­ple, South­ern Ital­ian Food has on me.

In fact, it’s not just Terroni’s food. I’m always happy to eat at Ter­roni, and I can’t say that about many places (espe­cially not ‘chains’)

Besides the food, I often look long­ingly at all the prod­ucts that line their shelves. Their hot pep­pers in oil kick some ass. As a prod­uct exten­tion, the In Carcene bags and acces­sories really round out the South­ern Ital­ian feel.

Fact is, a brand well exe­cuted con­jures feel­ings and cre­ates a story–even if it’s a story or a feel­ing about some­place you’ve never been. Like I’ve never been to an Ital­ian prison, but man, this head­band makes me feel like Anna Mag­nani in Nella città l’inferno. It car­ries a mys­tique that it just wouldn’t have if I bought it at Lul­ule­mon.

You can tell Ter­roni gets it because they deliver these feel­ings with every plate of pizza and pasta and with my brand new head­band. So, let the whin­ers keep whin­ing and call Terroni’s care­ful choices “unjus­ti­fi­able pre­ten­tious­ness.” I call it being on a mis­sion and main­tain­ing focus and love for the brand and avoid­ing distractions.

By the way, spe­cial props to my dad for tak­ing the pic­tures. Great job dad!



All Hail the Class Clown

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Just wrapped a meet­ing with Philip Play­fair and Steve Ham­mond, the Co-Founders of Low­foot.

Lowfoot’s busi­ness is based on dis­rup­tive think­ing, and I’m con­vinced they’ve got it right. They’ve uncov­ered the fact that while everyone’s busy fig­ur­ing out new ways (some green, some not) to meet our ever grow­ing energy needs, no one is really, seri­ously ask­ing how to build a busi­ness on get­ting peo­ple to gen­er­ate less energy.

So that’s what they’ve done. Low­foot has staked its busi­ness on the power of Smart Meter tech­nol­ogy to empower peo­ple to reduce their demand for energy and reap rewards (in the form of cred­its) from using less.

Meet­ings with these guys are always inter­est­ing. They have an “any­thing is pos­si­ble” way of think­ing that is excit­ing to be around. One of the insights I gained from today’s meet­ing is that both Phil and Steve are for­mer class clowns (well, maybe not so former).

The term class clown is gen­er­ally seen in a neg­a­tive light. Class clowns are per­ceived as atten­tion seek­ers, trou­bled kids who are using humour to make up for deep-seated insecurity.

If you met Phil and Steve, you’d know that stereo­type is pure bunk.

So, I went dig­ging deeper and came up with two very inter­est­ing approaches to think­ing about the class clown as a model for busi­ness innovation.

Copy­blog­ger has a great post on why class clowns rule the blo­gos­phere. The author’s salient point is that while:

vale­dic­to­ri­ans are for­got­ten the moment they step down from the podium,” class clowns are remem­bered for “telling the truth in an inter­est­ing way“and as a result, they are remem­bered long after school days have drifted by.

This idea of telling the truth in an inter­est­ing way fits with Lowfoot’s busi­ness model. Low­foot is com­mit­ted to turn­ing peo­ple into energy gen­er­a­tors. They are not afraid to speak truth to power by point­ing out that all forms of energy gen­er­a­tion (wind, solar, “green”) come at a cost. Just ask the folks in Bala who are fac­ing a “green” dam being built in the cen­tre of their town.

Like Low­foot, class clowns are good at get­ting noticed because they’re not invested in the same popularity/unpopularity con­tests that every­one else is mired in. Fit­ting in is just not their spe­cialty. For­mer class clown CEO David New­man does a good job of explain­ing the skill set that is unique to the class clown:

Think about it–class clowns, by their very nature, are not afraid to fail, unlike the geniuses. They thrive on being dif­fer­ent, unlike the geeks, who suf­fer by being dif­fer­ent. They focus on get­ting noticed among the noise, unlike the cool kids, who focus on fit­ting in.”

What’s some­thing the class clown can teach you about run­ning a suc­cess­ful busi­ness? Or even bet­ter, what’s a class clown antic you’ll never forget.

And, in honor of my new favourite class clowns, I leave you with this:



Album: Japanese Illustration, 1960s | Aqua-Velvet (8 Pictures)

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Jodi picked up Grow for the Stop “Salad Turnips” at Fiesta Farms: Go get some

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Tree beloved by Anne Frank falls down – CNN​.com Blogs

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Since the tree was found to be dis­eased, hun­dreds of saplings grown from its chest­nuts have been donated to schools and parks around the world

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Missing the Boat on Brand Ambassadors

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Every employee in your orga­ni­za­tion is in the mar­ket­ing department.

That means that no mat­ter how much money you spend on adver­tis­ing (or social media, PR, direct mail, etc.) your employ­ees’ feel­ings about where they work cre­ates the most sig­nif­i­cant impres­sion on consumers.

As Seth Godin points out, if you’ve ever walked into an Apple Store you’ll know what I mean. I think I have a crush on every sin­gle guy who works there. Help­ful­ness is so sexy. But I digress.…

I just spent some time in Muskoka at Touch­stone Resort. To put it plainly, Touchstone is a fancy place.

What does fancy mean? Well, there’s a guy who comes and grooms the beach daily, a gym, salt water pool, daily house­keep­ing and (get this) call and book ahead and some­one will come to build a fire for you right at the beach. THEY BUILD YOU A FIRE. Amaz­ing, right?

I think you get that this is not typ­i­cal cot­tage living.

Touch­stone also sells cottages–whole cot­tages or frac­tional own­er­ship. And, while I didn’t expe­ri­ence any heavy handed salesy stuff, I did notice that they offer a free ‘Day­ca­tion’ visit to any­one inter­ested in hav­ing a look around the place. Make no mis­take about it, they want to make a favourable impres­sion on those who visit because they want you to buy. Con­tinue »



A serious deal on important web testing software from: http://​www​.app​sumo​.com/​?​r​=F5wK

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