The first Cranky Case File recounts a true-life story of management groupthink and how it backfired with hilarious results.
Once upon a time, as an in-house copywriter for a public education institution of higher learning™, I wrote a website for a new, high-profile adult education product. Our marketing team had agonized over the home page for months to get the copy and design just right. At last, we nailed it. All we needed was management approval and the site could go live.
My boss, the marketing director, set up a meeting to present the page to the company’s top brass. When the big day came, the room was filled with veeps and directors as far as the eye could see.
As a lowly copywriter in a top-heavy organization, I did not attend. But my boss told me later that this is what happened:
The dean took one look at the page and said, “Waaaait, ho. Oh no no no no no.”
He scanned the copy. “This is way too academic-sounding,” he declared.
This opened the floodgates, and others in the room — including folks who seldom said anything about anything — started to pile on.
My boss was stunned. He and I had worked together for years — not just at the university, but at private companies, too. He knew me, he trusted my work. He knew this copy was the result of months of rigorous writing, editing, and vetting by some of the very people whose asses were now seated in that room. He knew how much effort I (and he himself) had put into the page, how hard we had worked to make it clear and friendly and compelling. And so he reminded them.
“Is everyone here suffering from amnesia?” he asked.
It wasn’t the most diplomatic approach, but the man was on point. And by this time, he was getting frustrated.
He stopped by my desk after the meeting. It was a bloodbath, he said. He couldn’t believe it. He said nothing like this had ever happened with my writing before.
That wasn’t all. He’d been asked to schedule a second meeting for the following week in which he and I would review the page along with management and, like as not, rewrite by committee.
I was peeved but willing to consider the possibility that I had missed the mark. So I went back to re-read the page and see if I could understand the complaints.
“They’re tripping balls,” I told my boss. “I stand by every word.”
We both felt anxious going into that next meeting, but what came out of it was pure comedy gold.
As we projected the page onto the big screen, people around the table kept pointing and saying, “But it doesn’t say such-and-such.” Then, a moment later: “Oh, there it is.”
“But it doesn’t say so-and-so.” “Oh, there it is.”
“But it doesn’t . . .” “Oh.” On and on.
Of course, none of these reviewers were approaching the page the way a real prospect would. They didn’t understand the thought sequence of a real potential buyer, or how the copy had been written to address specific ideas in an intentional order. They were just running down their own confused mental checklists, haphazardly ticking boxes as features and benefits occurred to them.
Soon, the comments changed. “I really like that it says blah-blah-blah.”
“It’s great that it says this-and-that.”
Finally, the dean closed the meeting.
“Welp,” he said. “Nice work, everyone. I think we can all agree you’ve come a long way in a week and a half. This looks great!”
My boss and I goggled at each other across the table.
We hadn’t changed a word.
To see what I mean about “the thought sequence of a potential buyer,” check out my blog post on Flint McGlaughlin, the 30-year marketing researcher and managing director of MECLABS, whose sage words, “You’re not building a page, you’re optimizing a thought process,” ring in my head nearly every day. Hit the link and be sure to check out the video on that page, “Conversion Rate Optimization: Getting the Right ‘Yes,’” in which Flint expertly critiques a home page for Zopa loans. This is the kind of clear-headed thinking that every marketer today needs to see, hear, and do for their clients every day.
Back to blog home page.
Black hollywood has remade the wonder years and everybody on there is black what’s next, a black little house on the prairie?
Perfect example of a lynch mob masquerading as a review committee. Great ending though. Shows you how management idiots follow the leader, none of whom really paid attention to the content. Good story.
Thanks, Mike. It really was amazing to see. Unfortunately, such idiocy now seems commonplace. (Or maybe I just didn’t notice it as much before.) I really do marvel at the limited functionality of so many people today.
The brainless advertising morons that actually get paid for coming up with these unbelievably annoying, ridiculously stupid, and constantly showing Liberty Mutual TV commercials, ALL need to be fired for incompetency!
Hey, Gary! Are the sadists at Liberty Mutual still pumping out the world’s stupidest commercials? If so, I am happy to say I’ve missed them. (Well, I haven’t actually been missing them, Gary.) Hang in there, my friend, and keep the mute button handy!