I was brought up short in the supermarket the other day by a bag of pretzels, which is not typically on my radar.  Last time I had a pretzel probably was some time in 1978.

But this bag of pretzels intrigued.  Yes, it had snappy packaging, done up in colors to attract the eye.   What was more intriguing, however – and more important in convincing me to stop for a closer look, was the product’s prominent positioning. 

The first word that caught my eye was “UNIQUE” – equal in weight to the product’s name: Splits.  A banner at the top of the bag proclaimed “The Original Split-Open Pretzel.” 

Since I’d never heard of a split-open pretzel and had no idea whether being split-open was a marketable pretzel attribute, I read on.  Further down the package, three prominent arrows pointed to a big pretzel, along with a few short lines of text for each benefit:

It’s abundantly clear from their key message that Unique Splits Pretzel Bakery of Reading, PA has decided that slightly bulging surfaces, grooves and tiny pockets of air buried in their pretzel would make them more crunchy and appealing.   True or not, they got my attention!  And the taste test later at home convinced me that they had a good pretzel, although the added value of the benefits they cited were lost on me, although I’m ready to admit that a pretzel aficionado may have picked up on them immediately.

The benefits don’t stop there.  The Splits package also proclaims that their product has more flavor, fewer ingredients (no sugars, malts, preservatives, colors, trans fats) … and smarter baking.

“The Spannuth Family started baking hard and soft pretzels back in the late 1800s,”according to their Web site and a blurb on the back of the package.  “The demand for our hard pretzels increased rapidly because of our ‘Unique’ baking process” that allowed the raw pretzel to “burst open,” creating bubbles and crevices that are “crispy, yet crunchy, and filled with flavor.”  Which is why they started calling them “Splits”. 

Splits come in multitudinous varieties, too: multi-grain, extra dark, unsalted, chocolate covered (yum!) and my future favorite, Bacon Cheddar Flavor Shocked “Shells” (they’re hollow, which makes them more like a potato chip than a pretzel).

If the pretzel itself isn’t the non plus ultra of pretzels (at least for me), the company’s positioning and benefits presentation -- their product story -- is close to perfect and certainly approach “UNIQUE”.  

TakeAway:  Don’t be hesitant about stepping forward with your product benefits – especially if they clearly set your offering apart from competitors. 

Content © 2015 by Brian E. Faulkner   

Bad News.  It knocks on all our doors eventually -- the kind that arrives unexpectedly, like a sunny day thunderclap.  Perhaps a fast moving tornado rips without warning through your neighborhood, leaving incomprehensible destruction behind.  Or a fire destroys your house.

For the staff, members and fans of the National Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky, bad news came during the early morning hours of February 12, 2014 when a sinkhole opened up under its Skydome display area.  Security camera footage shows something like a million dollars worth of prized Corvettes tumbling thirty feet into a 40 x 60-foot chasm where they were crushed by tons of dirt, rocks, concrete and other Corvettes.  Fortunately, three were not damaged beyond repair.  Five of the iconic sports cars, however, were crushed nearly flat and can’t be fixed.  Eighteen months later, the hole has been filled in, and the museum awaits restoration of the final damaged Corvette.

The fascinating twist in all of this is that museum attendance has increased significantly since those dark days two winters ago as Corvette aficionados in far greater numbers stop by to see the hole and inspect the damaged cars on display.  The sinkhole has been filled in and the floor repaired.  And the museum staff, who work among seemingly endless displays created around the Corvette theme, remain optimistic that publicity generated by the event will keep fans coming.

“People just really enjoy hearing the story and like seeing the damage,” spokesperson Katie Frassinelli said, in a story reported by Associated Press.  “I guess it’s the rubberneck effect.”

We all get that.  It borders on shocking to see violent damage inflicted on a Corvette or some other finely crafted machine that’s been whacked or crushed or flooded – like the rows of new Volkswagens destroyed in last week’s Tianjin, China explosion and fire. 

But what I don’t get is how little story about the sinkhole event there is on the Corvette Museum’s Web site, which, given all the notoriety and increased attendance, should be featured more prominently – or at least be directly accessible from the site’s landing page.  I had to hunt and hunt and hunt before I found mention of the sinkhole ‘Vettes and even sat patiently through a breathlessly paced video that I thought might contain footage of the cars tumbling toward their fate – or the sinkhole’s after effects; it did not. 

To their credit, the museum has embraced what at first must have seemed like a nightmare and has turned it into a plus.  They just need to let the world know about it more effectively – front and center.  They need more story, because as no less a personage than The Donald has said,

“Sometimes by losing a battle you find a new way to win the war.”

TakeAway:  Shine up that bad apple and put it to work for your business.

Content © by Brian Faulkner

For some time now, I've been aware of -- and impressed by -- Liberty Mutual's Whole New Light TV campaign.  Every time I see one of their spots, which feature everyday folks musing by a shoreline with the Statue of Liberty in the background, I pay attention. The ads work because of their simplicity, because of  story, because of the “real” talent they’ve chosen and because each spot presents a common insurance frustration that viewers can identify with immediately:

“You’re driving along, having a perfectly nice day, when out of nowhere a pickup truck slams into your brand new car.  One second it wasn’t there, and the next second – BOOM! – you had your first accident.  Now you have to make your first claim.  So you talk to your insurance company, and – BOOM! – you’re blindsided for a second time: They won’t give you enough money to replace your brand new car. 

        (pregnant pause)

Don’t those people know you’re already shaken up?”

I love the reference to “those people”.  We all know who they are.

The story goes on:  Liberty Mutual not only replaces the new car but also includes the value of depreciation.  Another spot in the series offers to replace a policyholder’s older car with one a whole model year newer. 

“You should feel good about your choice of insurance,” Liberty Mutual’s Web site informs us.  “That’s why our new campaign aims to shine a light on this otherwise confusing category.”

Amen to that!   Insurance, whether auto, health, homeowner or life, all too often seems like a costly crap shoot, despite the assuring words used to sell us our policies.  So it’s refreshing to see a straight-talking sales pitch based on credible slice-of-life situations – without yammering on so much about price (the up to $423 you can save to switch is slipped in toward the end of the spot -- frosting on the cake compared to the main benefit). 

If I hadn’t experienced such consistently good customer service from my State Farm agent over the years, which is a personal rather than corporate competitive appeal, I’d be tempted to give Liberty Mutual a shot at my business because of their common sense advertising – but would be less likely to change companies for a 15% price difference, even if offered up by a cute green gecko. 

Pure and simple, Liberty Mutual has done a superb job of communicating their competitive advantage.  Their tagline is so strong that price may not even matter: car insurance seen in a whole new light. 

TakeAway:  Create an authentic and credible competitive advantage.  Then, present it in terms that people can rally around; they will be more likely to want to buy your product or service.

Content © by Brian E. Faulkner