But for the scrappy producer, as Mark Twain said, "the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."
That breed of producer is testing the participatory "unconference," embracing the design ideas of trailblazers like Adrian Segar.
Segar insists old-school conferences "unconsciously promote and sustain power imbalances"—imbalances anathema to new audiences, who crave equality opportunity with producers and presenters to influence outcomes.
The power imbalances stem from producers' "underlying belief that when you lose control everything turns to chaos," Segar says.
"Meeting stakeholders and planners typically subscribe to this viewpoint because they can’t conceive of (usually because they’ve never experienced) a form of meeting that successfully uses a different kind of power relationship." It's high time conference producers abandoned that viewpoint.
Nothing is more fatiguing, nor, in the long run, more exasperating, than the daily effort to believe things which daily become more incredible.
— Bertrand Russell
In a focus group last week, a dozen Pittsburgh voters labeled Donald Trump—whose standing in polls is the worst of any American president's in history—"contemptible," "disastrous," "crazy," and an "abject disappointment."
Admissions like these don't come easy for former supporters—or at all.
Psychologist Leon Festinger was among the first social scientists to explain its irresistible sway, which causes otherwise sane people to hold stupid beliefs long after they're proven stupid. In a 1954 experiment, Festinger infiltrated a religious cult led by a housewife who prophesied the world's end in an immanent flood.
The woman convinced believers they'd be spared from drowning by saviors from the planet Clarion. Festinger predicted the woman's believers would stick by her, even when the prophecy proved false. Festinger's hypothesis was correct.
As the day of the great flood approached, many believers quit their jobs and gave away their possessions; but no flying saucers arrived to fetch them.
When they asked their leader why, she told them their faith had spared the world.
The believers grew elated—and stepped up their recruiting efforts.
Bevies of experts believe "micro-content"—marcom you mold into "bite-size, digestible chunks"—can counteract customers' growing intolerance of marketing.
I'm not so sure.
If micro means publishing crap, small isn't beautiful.
If micro means posting "rough and ready" videos, small isn't beautiful.
If micro means turning tractati into tweets, small isn't beautiful.
In all these cases, small isn't small: it's only small.
If your sole success-metric is views, micro may be fine.
But if conversions are your bag, better work at it a wee bit harder.
Visit GiveWell's website and you'll find something remarkable: a label in the main navigation that reads "Our Mistakes."
Click and you'll jump to a page headed, "This page logs mistakes we've made, ways in which our organization has failed or currently fails to live up to our values, and lessons we've learned."
The page is long, long, long.
Alexander Pope once wrote, "No one should be ashamed to admit they are wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that they are wiser today than they were yesterday."
How many organizations are gutsy enough to own up? Not enough.
In his 1932 essay "In Praise of Idleness," Russell argued that overwork is overrated; and idleness, underrated.
With automation, he believed, people need work no more than four hours a day to keep civilization going.
Four hours a day would let them contribute fairly and earn their keep—and leave them ample time to study, think, play, and practice crafts. And as they do, innovation, charity, happiness and peace would flourish.
Sound utopian?
It isn't.
Russell's hope was simple: after millennia of "overwork for some and starvation for others," it was time for people to "stop being foolish."
And Russell was describing our future: a time when the "shared economy" creates enforced downshifting (provided the 1% don't win out and revoke the 13th Amendment; a strong possibility, in my opinion).
When you consider the fact most gigs in a shared economy pay too poorly to offer complete liberation, the Silicon Valley CEOs might be right: a universal basic income makes sense.
For the Ayn Randers and others who think overwork confers moral worth, I have just three words. Get a life.
The US Census Bureau reports 74 million people belong to Gen Z. In just three years, they'll represent 40% of attendees.
Their intolerance of passivity makes the rest of us look like sheep; so does their penchant for social media activism.
And therein lies both the problem and the solution, says Skift.
No longer can you deliver your grandfather's conference and expect Gen Z to stand for it—or sit through it.
“If it’s not interactive, they’re not going to stay at the meeting,” planner Cindy Lo tells Skift. “They need to be entertained and they’re looking for those Instagramable moments.”
But if you try only to razzle-dazzle Gen Z members, Lo says, you'll fail. You have to razzle-dazzle them authentically. And you have to do it long before they'll even register.
And you have to do it long before they'll even register, because they judge a conference's real values before deciding to engage.
“Gen Z can sniff out fake so fast,” Lo says.
But how do you avoid appearing "fake?"
One way: avoid interruptive calls-to-action like "Tweet this!” in your marketing. Gen Z members understand marketing better than previous generations and abhor tacky commands.
Another: be Instagramable in your marketing. Use tons of imagery to promote your event, keep your copy short, and make both mobile-friendly. You'll not only convert more Gen Z members into attendees, you'll turn them into advocates for your brand.
In 1969, the trade association for billboard companies asked its members to join in an experiment meant to prove that very thing. Without fanfare, thousands of billboards with the slogan "Calvin Coolidge was the 30th President" appeared nationwide. Public awareness of Coolidge rose eightfold―from 4 to 39%―as a result.
Six years later, a similar experiment used the reigning Miss America, Shirley Cothran. Her name, face and title appeared on 10,000 billboards across the country. Awareness of Cothran rose sixteenfold―from 1 to 16%.
And in 1999, an academic researcher duplicated the Calvin Coolidge experiment in Texas. Awareness of Coolidge also rose sixteenfold―from 1 to 16%.
Should the association wish to run the experiment again using the slogan "Bob James' Granddaughter Lucy is Awesome," I'm ready to grant my permission.
Fortune reports Amazon is contacting and refunding shoppers who bought "shoddy counterfeit solar eclipse glasses on the company's website."
Shoddy has a scurrilous backstory.
In the mid 19th century, English shepherds would sell scraps of wool to textile manufacturers, who'd mix it with old rags to make a packing material known as shoddy.
Before long, the companies succumbed to the idea to market the stuff to makers of cheap clothing―and sold millions of pounds of shoddy to American war profiteers, soon to be known as "shoddy millionaires."
Shoddy quickly came into use as a term for swindling and humbug of every sort.One shoddy millionaire was Brooks Brothers.
When the Civil War broke out in 1861, federal contracts for military uniforms were awarded not to the lowest bidder, but the highest briber.
The bribes inflated their cost of goods, so clothing makers cut corners on product.
Brooks Brothers won orders for 36,000 uniforms that year, and turned out uniforms for the volunteers that fell apart in the first rainstorm.
When asked by legislators why his company used shoddy instead of broadcloth for the uniforms, one brother, Elisha Brooks, responded, “I think that I cannot ascertain the difference without spending more time than I can now devote to that purpose.”
Brooks Brothers was by no means the only "shoddy millionaire." Profiteers materialized throughout the North. Some sold the government shoddy uniforms that were non-regulation color, causing many soldiers' deaths from "friendly fire."
Harpers Weekly described shoddy in 1861 as “a villainous compound, the refuse stuff and sweepings of the shop, pounded, rolled, glued, and smoothed to the external form and gloss of cloth.”
In 1861, there were a couple dozen millionaires in New York City; by 1865, millionaires in the city numbered in the hundreds. One even included the mayor, who in his role as procurement officer awarded Brooks Brothers its contract for uniforms.
The New York Herald proclaimed, "This is the age of shoddy. The new brownstone palaces on Fifth Avenue, the new equipages at the Park, the new diamonds which dazzle unaccustomed eyes, the new people who live in the palaces, and ride in the carriages, and wear the diamonds and silks―all are shoddy."
Has your relentless pursuit of eyeballs ruined your relationship with readers?
I bet it has.
If all you do is dangle click-bait and recycle sales-talk, you're driving readers away―and wasting your chance for romance on the biggest social network of them all, email.
Only value keeps the relationship alive.
Newsletter publisher Inside proves it. In less than a year, the startup has attracted 300,000 readers. Its newsletters garner 40% open rates, 10% click rates.
The secret sauce? Good content.
"We think news on the internet is broken," the company's website says. "Too much writing is optimized and incentivized for traffic and virality, instead of impact and quality."
By focusing on value instead of hits, Inside keeps readers reading. And a happy reader shares her love―causing your list to grow.
So how does Inside do it?
According to Austin Smith, Inside’s general manager:
Five full-time staffers and 10 freelancers produce all the content for 28 newsletters. Staffers are generalists with multiple beats.
Each newsletter comprises 70% curated content, 30% original. The content is "deep dive," business-only, and written for an advance audience.
Staffers favor stories readers may have missed because other news outlets have ignored them.
Several years ago, I hired a cabinetmaker to construct half a dozen cherrywood built-ins with adjustable shelves. Handsome, beautifully-crafted things. I noticed the man was finishing every edge of every shelf―all 60 of them―and asked, "Why bother to finish all four edges, when you can only see the one facing you?"
His reply was dour. "Because I see them."
It's delightful to encounter mortals who won't run in the race to the bottom.
The sculptor Phidias was commissioned in 440 BC to create statues for the roof of the Parthenon. After the installation, the city accountant refused to pay his bill.
"These statues are on the roof of a temple on the highest hill in Athens," the accountant complained. "Nobody can see anything but their fronts. Yet you have charged us for sculpting them in the round―for sculpting back sides nobody can see."
"You're wrong," Phidias replied. "The gods can see them."
There's danger in the race to the bottom, as Seth Godin says: you might win.
And whether you do or don't, the gods can see you.
An angel investor and a tradeshow producer, Marco Giberti and Jay Weintraub, have pooled their considerable talents to write the 185-page book The Face of Digital, a look-see into the turbulent tradeshow industry and the changes that will be wrought by technology in the coming five years―a time they agree "will redefine the way we think of digital media in connection with live events."
Tradeshows, "the original social networks," can stand a stirring, the authors insist. Exhibitors, who foot the bills, cannot calculate ROI; and attendees, shows' raisons d'etre, can barely navigate them.
But the improvements wrought by tech will be gentle, the authors say.
"The events industry is not ripe for a disruption, in the mold of Uber or Airbnb," they write. "Instead, it's more likely that hundreds, even thousands, of small players will emerge to solve individual problems."
Among the problems solved by digital technology:
No attendee will ever again stand in a line to get in; apps will let them buy their badges weeks in advance, in seconds.
No attendee will ever again feel lost in a crowd; apps will signal when friends are nearby.
No one will waste time scrutinizing inscrutable signs; apps will recommend the best path to the next booth you want to visit.
No attendee will ever miss a speaker's session; livestreaming will let her watch it on demand.
No attendee will ever go home empty-handed; matchmaking apps will connect her to other attendees and exhibitors even after the show.
Exhibitors will no longer pay a penny for drayage; products will be demonstrated in virtual reality.
Follow-up will no longer be dismal; CRM systems will automate and personalize the activity.
Exhibitors will no longer grouse about foot-traffic; beacons will smooth crowd-flows.
Rainforests will no longer fear tradeshows; digital will replace paper exchanges 100%.
The solutions to these problems aren't imaginary, the authors point out: they exist now. Tradeshow producers just don't know it―or care much.
"Like the newspaper industry," they write, "the events industry is still very much in transition between the predigital age and an era in which digital integration will become commonplace in every aspect of our lives and businesses."
But competition against digital marketing for exhibitors' dollars will wake complacent producers up, just in time for "the Cambrian explosion of digital tools for events." Giberti and Weintraub's book is a must-read for every tradeshow producer and exhibitor, as well as anyone whose livelihood is derived from face-to-face. Their viewpoints are sensible and admirably realistic. My own is that the changes ahead will be less incremental; that the tradeshow business is less like the newspaper business and more like the apartment-rental one; and that an Airbnd-ish "disruptor" lurks just over the horizon. Yes, tradeshow producers have a lock on things for the moment. But, as James Bond might say, the industry's about to be "shaken, not stirred."
Drawing attendees to events remains producers' runaway biggest challenge, as Sam Lippman's latest ECEF Pulse proves.
Six in 10 producers name attendance acquisition their Number 1 challenge, according to the study, while numerical event attendance has declined three straight years in a row.
That's a pity, because drawing a crowd ain't rocket science. The formula goes as follows:
Step 1. Build an evergreen e-list by promoting your event year-round. Use e-mail marketing and social media. Smother prospects with great content. Supplement those tactics with retargeting. And rent prospect lists, to be sure you're covering the universe.
Step 2. Mobilize your speakers, sponsors and exhibitors to help spread the word. Tap influencers to do the same. Make it easy for them to help you. If some resist, move on: there are more than enough enlightened ones out there to make a king-size dent in your universe.
Step 3. Telemarket VIPs. They merit a special touch. And roll out at the same time some targeted direct mail―attendee marketing's Old Faithful.
Step 4. Hire a decent agency. Attendance acquisition isn't a DYI project. If you want a recommendation, I have one.
A Revolutionary War hero, Burr lost the 1800 presidential election to Thomas Jefferson, becoming his vice president.
Jefferson rapidly distanced himself from Burr, withholding support for his renomination to a second term in 1804.
Alexander Hamilton, quoted by a newspaper at the time, called Burr "a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government.”
Burr killed Hamilton in a duel over the remark, and fled from New Jersey to New Orleans, where he met with an agent of America's old nemesis, Spain. Together, the two men plotted to create their own independent republic in Texas, and began assembling a militia to seize the land.
In 1807, while leading that militia, Burr was arrested for treason in Alabama by the federal government (his co-conspirator had snitched on him), and taken to Richmond for trial.
As it happened, Burr was acquitted on grounds that he had not waged war against the US.
Chief Justice John Marshall argued that Burr had a First Amendment right to voice opposition to the government, and that merely to engage in a conspiracy against it isn't enough to be convicted of treason: you have to wage actual warfare. "There must be an actual assembling of men for the treasonable purpose, to constitute a levying of war," Marshall wrote.
After the trial, Burr fled to England, where he tried without success to convince several foreign governments to provide him an army with which to seize Texas.
He returned to America five years later, when the incident was all but forgotten, and lived to age of 80.
If you don't contradict yourself on a regular basis, then you're not thinking.
― Malcolm Gladwell
Three months ago, I insisted the 1,500 Confederate memorials peppering public spaces throughout the South should be preserved. After Charlottesville, I have changed my opinion. The monuments represent not only an eyesore to most African Americans, but a threat to public safety. They should be removed from the streets and parks where the former Confederates placed them. Enough souls―625,000―perished in our Civil War. No more need do so. RIP, Heather Heyer. What's your opinion?
Harmonize your message with customers’ notions of “truth;”
Speak authentically; and
Achieve artless clarity.
To achieve those three things, you must:
Get out of the office and talk to customers. Lots of them. Large ones. Small ones. Happy ones. Not-so-happy ones. And don't stop until you have a firm grasp of the "scene" they’ve painted inside their heads. For better or worse, that's the world they inhabit, and the only one they know.
Revise the premise of your message to conform to the customers' worldview. When you next tell your story, begin with their "truth." And when you speak, at all costs resist the temptation to challenge that worldview. Customers will dignify your message with a moment of their attention only if your message meshes with their notions of who’s sincere, honest and caring.
Speak as tersely as possible. If you keep it simple, you’re trustworthy; if you don’t, you’re not. Don't say, "Membership in the association provides professionals the opportunity to pre-register for our annual conference at the member-only rate of $495 instead of the non-member rate of $595.” Say, "Membership saves you $100 on our annual conference.”
Include context, to assure you’re understood. Don't say, "We serve more than 100,000 dentists.” Say, "We serve more than 100,000 dentists, two-thirds of all dentists practicing in the US today.”
Omit unimportant facts. Don't say, "With more than 300 programmable features, the MLX is a workhorse that directly replaces our SP-88 series.” Say, "The MLX is a powerful new workhorse, with more than 300 programmable features.”
Use plain, crisp words and lively figures of speech. Don't say, "Our exhibition is the most comprehensive and efficient way to see the industry’s latest offerings.” Say, "A day at our show gives you a year’s worth of trends, tips and technologies.”
Minimize tech- and corporate-speak. Don't say, "Our face-to-face and e-learning opportunities will provide leading-edge techniques to expand your skill set through world-class experts." Say, "Learn the latest techniques from experts in our seminars and Webinars.”
Pekowski's 113-page book is full of personal stories and anecdotes, which makes it breezy and entertaining.
At its heart are teachings only a coach could concoct:
Innovative customer service, not growth, should be your business's goal.
A servant's mentality in a CEO goes hand in hand with steady growth.
Humble leaders are strong leaders.
No matter your specialty, you're really in the training business.
Only leaders who are mentors can influence corporate culture.
Teamwork comes from setting goals specific enough to influence performance.
Plan for failures and mistakes—they're inevitable.
It's little wonder Pekowski has published this little book: teaching and coaching are in his blood (he did both before joining the event industry in the 1980s).
And teaching and coaching underpin nearly all his success formulas.
"If you can teach or coach the group or department that reports to you, then in turn, that group can go out and teach the next group and so on," Pekowski writes. "I called it 'Teach the Teacher.' If you have ever taught someone something, then you are both teaching and reinforcing what you have been taught. It is the transformation of both knowledge and culture."
In this era of narcissistic CEOs, it's refreshing to learn some business leaders still put employees and customers first.
In an interview, I asked Pekowski what he'd be doing, if he weren't running his company.
"I’d be coaching in the NFL," he said. "That’s what I really wanted to do. I just love coaching and football. After I graduated, I coached in three different schools. But it’s a tough industry—it certainly didn’t pay then what it pays today. I had an opportunity to work for the Chicago Fire—a one-season team in the World Football League—but the job paid less money than I was getting paid as a teacher, and I had two children at the time." Lessons of an Entrepreneur: How to Grow, Take Risks and Survive is available from Amazon. Proceeds will be donated to charity.
If the people don't want to come out to the ballpark, nobody’s going to stop them.
— Yogi Berra
Because email marketing lives or dies on opens, you need to maximize them. Here are eight ways insiders do:
Qualify. Don't induce people to join your house list who won't love you, and don't expect much from prospect lists. Use "lead magnets" that attract only target customers, not every Tom, Dick and Harry; and rent only high-quality e-lists, such as those owned by magazines. The results if you do this right? According to the Direct Marketing Association, house lists enjoy an average open rate of 21%; prospect lists, 16.4%.
Segment. Don't broadcast; narrowcast. Segment your lists based on product interests, job titles, company size, locations, etc. Segmented campaigns outperform non-segmented ones by 14%, according to MailChimp.
Synchronize. Send your emails at the time of day people will open them: 8:30-10:00 am, 2:30-3:30 pm, or 8:00 pm-12:00 am. Avoid times when people are rushing to clean out their inboxes, deleting everything in sight. (NOTE: Times may differ for C-level audiences.) Captivate. Tell or tease. Tell readers clearly what to expect in your email, if you believe it's an offer they can't refuse ("5 signs it's time to change LMS vendors"). Play to their curiosity, if it's not ("I heard you're a leader. Is it true?"). Here are more examples. Clean. Low inbox rates necessarily dampen opens. Delete complainers and inactive subscribers on your list regularly. Using a cleaning service makes it easy. Optimize. Design your emails for mobile devices. More than half are opened on them. Keep Subject lines short, too (6-10 words). Infiltrate. Avoid spam filters by avoiding practices that trigger them. Here's a list. Brand. Most readers don't open emails from senders they don't recognize. So, unless you're lucky enough to have an in-house "celeb," use your brand name in the From field.
B2B marketers―smart ones―know online must lead to offline.
Because unless prospects experience your brand, there's little likelihood of large sales.
Digital alone doesn't cut it.
Digital's too delible.
As GE's CMO, Linda Boff, told Chief Content Officer this month, "Experiencing a brand versus just seeing something in the media is more and more important. It's more indelible. We think a lot about that. How do we bring the brand to life? And how are we going to show up?"
He went off to Congress an' served a spell, fixin' up the government an' laws as well; took over Washington so we heered tell, an' patched up the crack in the Liberty Bell.
— Thomas W. Blackburn
Walt Disney aired the first of three one-hour telefilms, "Davy Crockett, Indian Fighter," in December 1954, and kicked off a nationwide craze for the coonskin cap.
The craze erupted in an era when Americans hungered for a return to times when protectors walked the land. Parents and grandparents didn't count. Although they'd beaten the Nazis only nine years earlier, they chose in large part not to speak of it. They were too busy buying us coonskin caps. So we settled for Davy Crockett.
Sixty-three years later, protectors again walk the land, but they don't fight Indians or take over Washington. They assemble instead in our streets and parks, and fight Neo-Nazis and Klansmen.
My cap's off to them. Patch up the crack in the Liberty Bell.
But a lot of B2B marketers, under the gun to generate leads, forget this. They ignore the "Content Consumption Gap," and blitz leads with premature follow-up calls.
NetLine examined 7 million long-form content downloads and concluded it takes 38 hours for a lead to read whatever he requests (C-level leads take 48 hours).
Dubbing the timespan the "Content Consumption Gap," NetLine urges marketers to practice patience and wait at least two days before following up a lead. "Don't smother content-sourced leads," says NetLine's David Fortino. "Suggest that your sales team wait 48 hours before contacting, to ensure that the prospect is well informed enough to have an educated discussion."
Instead of dialing, Fortino recommends sending leads "a light-touch email:"
Thanks for checking out our white paper. I’ll check in with you in a few days to see what you thought. In the meantime, please don’t hesitate to reach out with questions.
Siris—the title referred to the Nile, whose waters the ancient Egyptians believed a cure-all—became a best-seller, making every literate man and woman in the British Isles, in the words of Horace Walpole, "mad about tar water."
The book claimed tar water was a "distillation of divine fire,” originating from a “secret and occult source.” Like the waters of the Nile, it could cure anyone of any affliction. Berkeley stopped short of calling tar water a panacea, but noted that “twenty-five fevers in my own family [were] cured by this medicinal water, drunk copiously.”
As prescribed by the philosopher, this cheap and plentiful elixir had the power to turn impoverished Ireland into a medical utopia.
Our own brand of tar water—courtesy the GOP—is freedom, a cure-all with the power to make America a medical utopia. Freedom from federally-backed health insurance, to be specific.
As Congressman Mike Burgess, referring to his party's plans to gut Obamacare, insists, “If the numbers drop, I would say that’s a good thing, because we’ve restored personal liberty in this country."
