Love the one you're with.

After reading Paul Gumbiner’s recent post on why you should use your clients’ products and services, I went looking for a reference to something similar in The Art of Client Service. 

I found it, but it actually is pretty easy to overlook, given it’s delivered as an afterthought, in Chapter 12, Live the Client’s Brand, on page 60, in all its parenthetical glory: 

“If, as David Ogilvy has written, he found a way to buy all his clothes at Sears after his agency won that account, you too can find a way to use your clients’ products and services.” 

That’s the quote I included in the current, third edition, but if you look at the 2008 second edition, in Chapter three’s Live the Client’s Brand, on page nine, you will find exactly the same quote. Look in the 2003 first edition, same chapter with the same title, this time on page ten: same quote.

In a business that’s largely about change, why have I persisted in making this point lo these many years?

You might think me a luddite, a last-century relic, a dinosaur; no matter. Advertising and marketing might make “What’s new” the currency-of-the-moment, but some things should remain constant. This is one of those things.  

A story: when my agency, Ammirati & Puris, won the Compaq Computer account, we promptly went out and replaced all of our existing hardware with the clients’ desktop and notebook computers. In addition to becoming their new agency, we also became a fairly important buyer. Not only did this gesture deliver an appropriate, powerful financial and emotional message to our new-client collaborators, it also served to give all of us hands-on knowledge and understanding of the products we were about to promote.  

I’m guessing David Ogilvy’s motivations were similar when he abandoned British-bespoke sartorial splendor for off-the-rack, mass-market merchandise.

There was one issue with Compaq, however: for year our Creative department depended on Apple products for design work. The software at the time heavily favored Apple over any personal computer, and the Art Directors insisted they needed to stay with Macintosh to do the work they were charged with doing, not just for Compaq (as ironic as this is), but also for every other client on the agency roster.

What do we do?

The answer was simple: we went to Compaq senior management, laid out the reasons why, when it comes to design, PCs were not Apple’s equal (it’s gotten better, but they still haven’t caught up, and likely never will), and asked if we could make an exception. Senior management listened, acknowledged the reality of the situation, and granted permission, which meant we became a bifurcated shop, with the Creative department MAC-equipped, and the balance of the agency on Compaq PCs.

The important thing to remember is that loyalty to our client’s product was such that we didn’t go slinking around with alien technology, or attempt to hide what was in our studio, or seek forgiveness rather than permission, should our violation was discovered. Instead, we were entirely open and transparent; we asked for and received approval.   

Another story: years ago I entertained a group of American Express clients at dinner. The check came; I put down my credit card, only to have our server inform me, “We don’t take American Express.” At the time I wasn’t sophisticated enough to have orchestrated payment in advance (something I subsequently recommend in my book); had I done so, I could have avoided what was about to become an incredibly embarrassing moment. But at least I had the in-the-moment common sense to ask for a manager.  

When the manager visited our table, I wasted no time, demanding, my voice just ever so sharp: “Why don’t you take American Express??” to which she answered something to the effect that American Express’ fees were too high. Now, you could chalk up the reaction that followed to simply being good theater, but it wasn’t.  

I told the manager that if I had enough cash to pay the bill, I would do so, but given I didn’t have that much money on hand – we were a group of eight – I would reluctantly, angrily give her a bankcard. I then declared that I would never eat in the restaurant again.  

The clients were sufficiently understanding to forgive me; there even were a couple of jokes dispensed at my expense (wholly deserved) – “You didn’t check beforehand? What kind of account person are you?” – but make no mistake about it: I sidestepped a landmine here.

If you didn’t get Paul’s point in his post, let me reinforce it now: you win a client, you use whatever product or service your client is offering. You don’t like tobacco, or that brand of beer, or that make of car? Then don’t work on the account. If you happen to own the shop, then don’t take the account.