Sick knack Paddy whacked by Kenny Harris

Sick knack Paddy whacked by Kenny Harris

Does the sign on the door help or hinder creativity?

Back in the day, in many agencies the principle of demarcation was as strong as it was in British Leyland.

There was a job for everyone, and everyone knew their job. And everyone knew their place as well.

Account Handlers handled accounts and creatives created. 

The only ones with a foot in both camps were the planners. Planners were – and may still be - a super-race of intellectual giants who not only knew what sold, but why.

In one of the best guidebooks to advertising that I ever read – Advertising for Account Handlers by Nigel Linacre – there’s a whole passage on what account handlers don’t do. 

They don’t write, and they don’t draw. They don’t have the final say on what the ad looks like or sounds like. They don’t buy media, they don’t produce. 

They don’t even look after the project as it makes its way through the agency. That’s the job of traffic.

In the first couple of agencies I worked in I was fascinated by this split between the various people whose job was, after all the same – to contribute to great ideas.

The first time I walked past a sign saying “Creative Department”, I was sorely tempted to look on the back of the door for a corresponding sign saying “Uncreative Department”. 

You know, to signal where ideas ended and boring people started.

Like the inscription “Here be dragons”, but “Here be normals” instead.

When I moved into sales promotion, I found the battle lines less rigidly enforced. Here, creativity was as much a function of account handling as it was of the creative department. 

And that suited me perfectly.

I believe that creativity – and the skills and attitudes that lead to great ideas – need to take root throughout any agency, client company or consultancy. 

And in this belief, I’m standing on the shoulders of giants. Two of my favourite Sirs, Ken Robinson and Martin Sorrell, are firm believers in “integrated creativity”.

An integrated creativity that is encouraged in everyone, not just those bearing the title “creative”.

If you want a sign to replace the one that says “Creative Department”, I have one for you. A sign you could put on the door of every meeting room, conversation space or board room where brainstorms might take place.

It’s borrowed from an organisation called “Toc H”, set up in the First World War to allow soldiers and officers to meet, converse, and share on a completely equal footing.

And it says “All rank abandon, ye who enter here”.

Who's asking? Starbucks, that's who.

This isn't a blog about customer service, although I do post the odd thought now and again when I've had a bit of service that has been brilliant, or awful, or just funny.

But after I put up the piece below, about customer care, I saw an ad in the paper saying that Starbucks were about to start asking for customers' names, so that the baristas can label our paper cups.

OK, I thought, I see where you're coming from. Make it a bit more personal, build a relationship, create a community, get us all a bit more touchy-feely about our daily latte.

Personally, I'd feel a bit more touchy-feely about Starbucks if they didn't insist on opening one on every corner of every town. (One of my favourite scenes in Shrek is the one where the townsfolk flee a branch of Starbucks only to run straight across the street into another).

Then I heard John Holmes on BBC R2's "The Now Show", and his brilliant explanation of how the new Starbucks' policy wasn't really welcome in Britain.

Apparently, John was in his local Starbucks during the first week of the "...and what's your name?" request.

"...and what's your name?", asked the guy behind the counter. "Stick it up your **** mate", came the reply.

And it got even better, a couple of days later.

Back in Starbucks, they are persisting with the "get the name" policy.

" ... and what's your name?" asked the guy behind the counter.

And someone from the back of the queue called out "Don't tell him, Pike".

Customer care. Do you care?

I've been reading one of those books that makes you want to jump right up and do something else. "Raw Spirit", by Iain Banks. Subtitled "In search of the perfect dram", it's a series of journeys around Scotland, visiting some of her well-known, and less well-known, whisky distilleries.

I enjoyed the book, but it wasn't a thirst for whisky I developed. It was a thirst for travel. And specifically, a thirst for travel around the islands and highlands of Western Scotland - across to Islay, perhaps Mull and Skye, and up through Argyll to the Western Highlands.

So when I found myself in Glasgow recently, I thought I'd take advantage of the Tourist Information booth at one of the main stations to grab a timetable for the Cal-Mac Ferries that run from the Scottish mainland to, and between, the Islands.

Ahead of me in the queue was a group of young women - Spanish, I think. They had just arrived on a coach or bus, and had one simple objective in mind. To shop. Happily, they had arrived in Glasgow, perhaps Scotland's most stylish city for shopping.

They get to the head of the queue. Young man in uniform (well, a tie and jumper - smart, though) says "Can I help you?". Someone must have told him that in Customer Care Class - that, and nothing else.

"Can you tell me where the best shops are?" said senorita number one.

"Shops?" he replied, "Erm, they're everywhere." he replied. True, I suppose, but a literal answer rather than a helpful one.

"Where is the best shopping?" she continued. "Here," he said, taking a map of Glasgow from a pad behind the desk.

"And everywhere." he said as he moved his hand across the map. Taking in, I kid you not, the whole of Glasgow city centre. No suggestions, no directions, no further explanation. Just "everywhere".

As the girls wandered off, none the wiser, someone in the queue stepped over and said "Can I help you?". He proceeded to point out one of the main shopping malls (visible through the windows at the far end of the station) and then suggested a couple of other areas where they might find "Scotland With Style" (the current strap-line of Glasgow Tourism).

I don't blame the lad behind the counter. I blame his bosses. Customer care isn't just about knowing which brochure (or price, or catalogue) to hand out. It's not just about information, or rules, or regulations. It's about caring, really caring. The training should emphasise this. Teach people to think about the customer, to be creative in helping them, to care.

Do I care about this customer? Do I care enough to help them in a way that makes their experience, their journey, their life, better? When they walk away from this conversation will they feel that I have really tried to help them?

When the guy stepped out of the queue, offered to help, and really did so, I suspect those visitors to Glasgow thought a little bit more of the "The Friendly City".

I suspect they didn't feel the same after the conversation with the guy in the uniform.