​This is one of those provocative subjects that, theoretically, we could argue in a single sentence. But it requires some setup and context, and deserves a fleshed-out explanation. 
 
But first: What on earth are we talking about? What’s the intent of the headline of this article? Why would you, as a creative professional (or someone who hires one) ever consciously go against your own creative instincts? Why would you ever make a creative choice that you don’t like? Talk about counterintuitive. 
 
The germ of this article came from a recent situation with a client of ours. We had worked with them for months to do painstaking customer discovery. It’s one of our specialties—it’s pretty much our religion—here at Copel Communications. Through lots of structured conversations, we had worked with this client to narrow down their targeted audience to just two big buckets. Then we worked with them to understand each of those audience’s day-in-the-life concerns and needs and comfort zones. 
 
Always, always “work backward” from the customer. If you know what the customer is going through, and what they need, then it becomes straightforward (albeit not easy) to start with that, and then “back into” the best possible messaging. Indeed, you can also “back into” the best possible products and services, too, but that goes a little beyond our wheelhouse. 
 
So. For this client, we’d helped them uncover some really interesting things about their target customers, for both buckets. While they were certainly distinct in terms of what they each needed and wanted most, which strongly suggested serving them via a bifurcated website (we have a very helpful article on this exact topic), they did have a fair amount in common, too. 
 
For the purposes of this article, let’s say that these target audiences each wanted a Lexus-like look and feel, yet with the suggestion of more Toyota-like pricing to purposely undercut the upscale look and feel. Pretty neat, huh? 
 
Unpleasant surprise
 
So you can imagine our surprise when, one day, this client sent us a brochure they’d created on their own. It featured lots of big, cartoony graphics and bold/daring layout: for example, on each page, the single biggest element on that page was the page number itself. 
 
Oh boy. 
 
Why did they follow this route? The piece was certainly bold, but 1) it looked like a student project, and 2) it wholly ignored everything that had been learned during the intensive customer-discovery sessions we’d conducted, and documented, with this client. 
 
Here’s the short answer: The graphic designer they found and hired simply liked this stuff. He liked cartoons and huge page numbers. 
 
Do our client’s prospects feel the same way? Absolutely not. So this brochure would turn them off, simply by looking at it, without so much as reading a single word. 
 
Thus the headline of this article: When should you avoid creative choices that you, personally, like? Answer: Whenever they conflict with what the customer would most like to experience.
 
As we’d said above, straightforward. But not simple. 
 
Another example
 
Years ago, we did work for an ad agency, and the owner told us a great, and related, story, which we’ll paraphrase here: 
 
The ad agency conducted market research for one of their clients: A nationally-known maker of a certain line of consumer packaged goods. The ad agency’s job: See which colors would resonate most with targeted buyers. 
 
(You know where this is going already, don’t you?) 
 
So the ad agency commissioned original, confidential market research, in which lots of mock-up products, in lots of different colors, were presented to the target audience via methods such as surveys and focus groups. 
 
The findings were clear and unequivocal. There were certain colors that were really liked, and others that were really disliked. 
 
When the ad agency presented these findings to their client’s CEO, she disagreed. She was certain that certain colors—the ones that she liked—would do better in the marketplace. She imposed her will, and so those colors—and not the market-tested ones—went into production, and then on sale. 
 
Guess what happened? All of the colors picked by the CEO absolutely tanked in sales. The one or two, from the market research, which she had allowed to go into production, soared. 
 
We don’t know the rest of that story. We hope it became a teachable moment for that CEO. But it certainly backs up what we’ve said for years: If you’re looking to grow your business, always subsume your own desires to those of your customer. 
 
Have a customer-discovery challenge that needs cracking? Contact us. We’ll help you move forward. 

​Okay, that’s a confusing title, isn’t it? “How to promote promotion.” What on earth are we talking about? And how will this, to be blunt, help you make more money? 
 
Trust us. We’ve got the answers. 
 
This one comes from a recent story with a client of ours. It’s a “teachable moment.” So we thought we’d share it with you. 
 
Spilled ink
 
That client of ours had had a turn of good luck. A big company—one of the nation’s largest banks—chose to feature them in an article they published. 
 
Sounds great, right? 
 
Of course it is. 
 
This bank is a household name. Their brand is worth billions. They have a powerful media presence. So just to have them say anything about our client, let alone feature them in an article, is pretty great. 
 
Why, then, are we writing about this? What’s “teachable”? 
 
Our client, understandably, wanted everyone on earth to know that Huge Bank wrote an article about them. Sure, Huge Bank did publish this article (online). But would it reach our client’s niche audience? Our client wanted to push out a press release, telling their clients and prospects about the Huge Bank article. 
 
This still seems really straightforward, doesn’t it? 
 
Well here’s where it starts to go off the rails. Our client brought in a writer to pen the release, and gave him the Huge Bank article as input. 
 
That might seem logical, but it was a mistake. Because here’s what happened: 
 
That writer scoured the Big Bank article, pulled what he thought were the most important points, and drafted a press release around them. 
 
And that release, well, sucked. 
 
Teachable moment. 
 
Mind you, we’re not blaming the writer here. He simply followed his directions, which were insufficient. And here’s why: 
 
The article from Huge Bank was all about how our client leaned on Huge Bank for a business line of credit, and how Huge Bank was able to meet their needs. Totally straightforward. Sure, it made mention of what our client does and who they serve, but the big focus—no surprise—was on Huge Bank. It was about how Huge Bank has all kinds of creative lending solutions. And how Huge Bank works extra hard to help its clients. It was a puff piece—no surprise—about Huge Bank. 
 
So guess what this press-release writer’s release read like? You guessed it: It read like a promotion for Huge Bank, and not our client.
 
Ooops. 
 
We needed to swoop in and rewrite the release from scratch. That’s because there was a time crunch; ordinarily, we’d simply re-direct the original writer. 
 
Our new release—which the client loved and immediately approved for publication—was all about our client. In a word, Duh. It talked all about how great our client is, and the kinds of problems they solve for their clients, and that nowadays, they’re so well-known and respected, that they’ve even been featured in a new article by... wait for it... Huge Bank. 
 
How much, then, of Huge Bank’s article informed our press release? Hardly any of it. We just wanted to promote the fact that Huge Bank was talking us up. Indeed, our press release was worth more than Huge Bank’s article. Naturally, we included a link to Huge Bank’s article in the release itself, but we couldn’t have cared less if the readers actually clicked it. 
 
Tracking it down
 
As we noted above, our client was delighted—indeed, pleasantly surprised—by the quality of the new press release we drafted on such short notice. But this gets to the bigger question, the one you’ve likely been wondering about all this time: 
 
Why did this mistake happen in the first place?
 
Why, indeed, is this teachable? Why were we forced to “swoop in” (our own words) to fix this? Why was the original release subpar? (As we mentioned above, we don’t blame the original writer.) Most importantly, how can this be fixed—and avoided—in the future? 
 
Oh, you’re smart. You figured out most of this already. By which we mean, “Our client mis-directed the writer.” Which is absolutely true. What we didn’t tell you, however, was that our client had reached out to this writer without telling us, and only informed us after the original press release was written, i.e., a quick “Hey, could you review this before it gets published?” 
 
Had we known, from the get-go, that our client was only going to give that writer the Huge Bank article as input, we would have instantly intervened and given him proper direction. That didn’t happen, and so this situation quickly became a fire which required dousing. 
 
The go-forward solution? We had to gently admonish our client: “Don’t do that again.” We can certainly appreciate their enthusiasm and excitement at getting some “ink” from Huge Bank, but if we hadn’t intervened, and if they had actually published that original release, it would’ve been a Huge Mistake. 
 
Need help “promoting the promotion,” or any other marketing-related challenge? Contact us. We’d be happy to help.