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I just hate it when good marketing makes me do bad things. Like buy candy bars that I have no interest in. Case in point: Snickers’ recent “Snacklish” ad campaign.

A little background

TBWA/Chiat/Day New York, famous for promoting Absolut vodka, Michelin tires and numerous now-iconic consumer products, is the creative force behind the recent “Snickers Speak” media blitz. Focused on customer satisfaction (presumably, satisfying hunger), it has invented a new vocabulary of words, presented within the familiar Snickers visual brand. Words such as “Nougetaboutit” and phrases like “Get a degree in Snackanomics” appear on buses, in internet and TV ads, and in point of purchase displays. I’ve been aware of these nonsensical expressions for several months, and while I find them pretentious and dumb, they have succeeded in making me wonder, “what is this Snacklish irreverence all about?”

Candy with an attitude.

A quick Google search enlightened me. Well, kind of. Mars Snackfood’s VP of integrated marketing communications, Carole Walker, had some pretty confusing things to say in plain English: “By taking Snickers’ core equities like its unique ingredients and satisfaction, we are reminding our consumers why they love Snickers so much.” (Core equities? What is this, candy banking?) The new language is everywhere, even infiltrating text messaging and blogging. You can post your own Snacklish phrase on Facebook. And while most aren’t exactly AdWeek material, some of these terms are topical and funny. One fave: “Don’t catch the swine chew.”

Discovery

Last week in the grocery store checkout line, I looked down and felt an odd rush. There was a tray of Snickers bars. Unmistakable from their billboard kin, they lay in two neat rows: dark brown wrappers, red-rimmed white fields, energetic blue italic fonts. I picked one up and flipped it over. On the back it read “Hungerectomy.” I overturned another. This one said “Substantialiscious.” In all, I looked at the back of some 20 odd bars, taking verbal inventory. I found “Peanutopolis” and “Nougeticity.” What now? Buy them of course, all four unique ones. It frightened me to know that I was putty in the hands of marketing brilliance, pure and simple.

Delivery on the promise

I ripped into one. The taste was nothing new – still the tooth-achingly sweet, salty and chewy prize of trick-or-treating days. If not in the bar, where was the satisfaction exactly? Inside the wrapper were printed the word and its faux definition, “Substantialiscious: The weight of something when you weigh it with your tongue.” Unbelievable! An adjective flaunting itself as a noun. And the meaning? Absurd! Who are these copywriters, five-year-old spelling bee dropouts? Bad candy!

The agency had grabbed me. They had engaged my attention – or should I say, obsession – and then reinforced my growing interest with each encounter. When I finally discovered Snickers for real, now THAT was satisfying. What’s more, they were there for the taking.

Everything this campaign made me do:

(1) NOTICE the billboard ads.

(2) RECOGNIZE the brand. “It’s a Milky Way.” (close, but wrong.)

(3) GOOGLE “candy bar ads.” Learn the campaign was for Snickers.

(4) BOOKMARK the imbecilic quote from Mars Snackfood.

(5) RESEARCH web sites and blog entries praising and parodying the campaign.

(6) IDENTIFY Snickers at my local grocery store.

(7) PURCHASE several, just for the “Snacklish” words.

(8) SAVE THE WRAPPER to photograph for this blog post.

(9) WRITE this blog entry.

I love a well-crafted ad

This experience reinforced my admiration for viral marketing and ingenious creative. I had been the unwitting subject of a highly effective “call to action.” Like a good divorce lawyer, the campaign used dubious tactics, but it won the case. I will never again look at a Snickers with neutrality. Curiosity, attraction, obsession, consumption – it’s what makes great marketing remarkable.

When I was about 15 my best friend’s mother asked me what I was going to do with my life – as if I would have any clue at that age. I told her that I wanted to be a writer, to which she replied “And how are you going to make a living Cheryl?” Well Mrs. Bingham, it turns out that I’ve made a pretty good living as a writer, thank you very much – albeit with some other skills adding to my marketability. The point is I’m first and foremost a writer. It’s what I do. And I do it for people who are not writers, who don’t like to write, who don’t have time to write and who need help writing. The second point is, if you’re not a dedicated writer like I am, and you need marketing communications written, you should probably engage a writer to get the job done for you.

Writing takes time.

Is there anything worse than trying to write when you don’t have time to write? Well, maybe but according to a lot of my clients, it’s a pretty stressful situation. So if your other responsibilities keep you doing the quick step, step aside and let a qualified writer write it for you. It will be better and faster – and you can get the other stuff done.

Everyone’s good at something; maybe it’s just not writing.

Over the years, I’ve worked with a lot of engineers, financial people, manufacturers and others who could wax eloquent about their chosen field – but only to an audience of people just like them. They found it nearly impossible to write about their field in terms that others could understand. So while you and your colleagues may have astounding capabilities as electrical engineers or be brilliant at estate planning, that does not mean you’re good writers. Enough said.

Why take the risk that it won’t be right?

I cannot count the number of times a client has come to me with self-written copy for an ad, a piece of collateral or a web site. I generally tell them that I can use the copy as direction but that I will need to apply my skills to their information in order for their communication to be effective. Some are offended; some are skeptical; most are grateful. Why? Because it takes the heat off.

After all, most marketing communications are done because of the need to sell something – quite often under adverse circumstances. So why would anyone take a chance on screwing up a chance to generate sales/leads? It really doesn’t make sense.

As a writer, I’m still amazed that other people aren’t as fond of the practice as I am. But I suppose CPAs might wonder why I’m not all that fond of numbers, too. So I try to strike a deal with my clients – I won’t practice marine research or sell floor coverings or develop any software if they’ll just let me do the writing. It works out well for all of us.

My nephew, now a teacher, briefly went into business as a personal chef. Having a fine marketing brain, he did all the right things – scouted out the competition, networked, designed an appealing web site. He handed out little spatulas with a terrific tag line printed on the handles: “Eat Right at Home.”

His value proposition was perfect. Most take-out food tastes good, but is terrible for you. The deliverable? Literally, fresh, healthy meals, any day of the week. No other catering company or take-out service had chosen that angle.

Then he picked a company name: “Dinner Sanctum.” The fork dropped from my hand. Clever… and something else. Blood red dining room walls. Too many candles burning on every surface. What sort of catering was this? Despite my nephew’s belief that eating is “close to a religious experience” and that home is “the place where people feel safe and protected,” I couldn’t keep the Goth imagery from crowding out the main idea, that this was about food, GOOD food.

Not all bad business names are intentional.

It’s tricky.

Entrepreneurs can be in love with a business name without thinking about how it affects their audience. Not that it always matters. To wit the scores of hair salons innocuously named for children or boyfriends. Or the marketing firm I once collaborated with named for the two principals’ dogs. Certainly there are lots of now world-class companies that began as start-ups with unusual names that roll off the tongue: Amazon, Google, Hulu, Etsy. But for the small service business not yet entered into the hall of start-up fame, names are brands, and brands are relationships. And relationships are everything. Too frequently, business owners let their creativity guide where, well, no one will follow.

My own example.

In design school, I didn’t yet own a business, so I made one up. Surrounded by countless “Missy Designs” and “Flair One Design Studios,” I rebelled against the self-important, the obvious, the stupid. I would be “Domestic Blitz.” Everyone knows that residential interior design can be a source of marital strife, especially if there is kitchen work involved. But my cynical title referenced a pun too subtle for most. Instead, it conjured up Rosanne Barr on a relentless cleaning rampage. Moreover, folks were confused. I’d positioned myself as a maid, not a designer.

Here’s the point.

Every business relies on building an avid clientele, so, when naming a business, think like the customer. And not just the like-minded customer, but different ones, gathering many reactions. The name may sound cool, even provocative. But consider your promise. Take connotation as seriously as insight, humor, cleverness and the other motivators that spawn these happy little moniker campers. Check out competitors to make sure your name – and domain name – are available. Be positive, as well as unique. Unless you want to later invest in a re-branding. Name that endeavor “let’s get it right this time.”