How effective are you at marketing your personality?
WHHAAATT?
You're thinking, "He's got to be kidding, right?"
Talk about opening up a Pandora's Box.
But I'm dead serious.
How effective are you at marketing your personality?
Just this morning I emailed Tyler Cowen to ask him how important he felt this point was. As you may know, Tyler is a columnist for the New York Times, chairman of the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, and author of last year's best-selling book, Discover Your Inner Economist. This is what Tyler emailed back:
What people remember, and relate to, quite simply, is other people. There are few truths in marketing more important than that.
Renowned social psychologist Robert Cialdini suggests people are easily persuaded by other people they like. To illustrate this point, in his business best-seller, Influence, Cialdini introduces his chapter on "Liking" with a quote from Clarence Darrow:
The main work of a trial attorney is to make a jury like his client.
So how important is personality to all of this?
Just consider for a moment how you respond to personalities. We frequently find ourselves drawn to people who are interesting, good-humored, attractive -- even offbeat.
Think about the importance of effective character development in entertainment. What films and television shows, and even entertainment personalities, are the most popular? Think about Seinfeld. Or Friends. Or even American Idol. The same is also the case very frequently in sports and in politics. And it fits for our daily lives, also.
Allow me, if you will, to illustrate my point with something that happened to my wife and me last evening. (Thus, the inspiration for this week's Fundraising Tip.)
For years, my wife and I enjoyed a very special fine dining restaurant in Northern Virginia, and we went to dinner there once or twice a year on special occasions. The food was spectacular, as was the service. But what we liked most of all was that the staff was very warm and friendly -- and unpretentious. Indeed, I would argue, the lack of pretention was part of the restaurant's shtick -- their marketing personality.
In particular, the sommelier, Vincent, was always helpful, gracious and instructive. He spoke with a very thick French accent, which of course added to the charm, but dare I say running against form, he was also down-to-earth and good-humored.
Much to our disappointment, this favorite restaurant closed last year when the chef moved to Manhattan. Oh, no! This was like a dear friend moving away. And what would happen to Vincent?
Well, Vincent emailed us a couple months ago and said that he had arranged with the restaurant to sponsor periodic wine tastings. Would we be interested? Of course! And our first foray into this was last evening.
It was spectacular.
Why?
It wasn't just the wine, which was very nice.
And it wasn't just the food accompaniments, which were superb.
It was Vincent's performance.
Vincent greeted my wife and me warmly when we arrived, remembering us by name. He asked if I would be using the same credit card. I said, "Yes, of course, so nice of you to ask, that would be fine." (And I thought to myself, how does he know? Does he remember that from last year somehow? Duh. I had given him the information when I had made the reservation. But I admit I found myself quickly falling into the trap of wanting to believe his implied familiarity...)
As we waited to begin -- there were about 80 people seated and waiting -- Vincent came to chat with each of us. He was, as usual, very funny, and of course, his heavy accent played to, dare I say again, his shtick.
The lessons about the wines he imparted to us -- the best, precise growing conditions; the special irrigation of the land; the grape-harvesting by hand in very small buckets; quickly burning the oak barrels to add to the flavor; the perfect tannins, the balance of sugars -- were all very interesting and helpful, and were often laced with interesting anecdotes about some journey he had made to find some spectacular, hidden vineyard. My wife turned to me, "He's really good, you know. But is he making this stuff up? And how would we know if he was?"
And then we concluded, "But does it matter? Why spoil the fun? The bottom line, he's really entertaining."
An example. From the audience: "Vincent, where do you buy your own personal wine?"
Vincent's response, "Ah, mon ami, I cannot afford expensive wine such as this for myself. My favorite is the Rosemount, a nice shiraz I buy from...Costco. Do you know Costco?," he asks quite innocently, as if we would not know Costco. Yet, that was more of his shtick! That personalized it! And, again, it took away the grotesque pretention that is the negative of oenophilia, I might argue. But, Vincent, with his French accent, his complete sommelier's attire, his requisite references to Mr. Parker and his "name-dropping" side references about teaching wine-tasting in Aspen and Jackson Hole, still commanded authority.
All the while, keeping himself quite likable.
By the end, we gave him a standing ovation. No doubt there was an air of at least some mild intoxication, but couples were readily signing up for his next event. "Email me," he said, "Or call me. I want to talk with you about wine anytime."
So, do you recognize the power of the marketing here?
What lessons -- and applications -- do you see in this for yourself and for your work?
I'll continue this next week -- on how you can specifically utilize these influences in your organization, especially in your communications.
Until then, all the very best to you and yours.
Kevin Gentry
Charles G. Koch Charitable Foundation
