Seven
take-outs for #marketing folks when briefing the #advertising #agency arising from my tryst with my teenaged daughter's #apprenticeship in styling my hair due to my #covid-19 #pandemic salon phobia.
Marketing Lessons from My Daughter’s Apprenticeship
in Styling My Hair
“OK, you
can open your eyes now, Dad”, my daughter intoned.
My salon
phobia during the Covid-19 pandemic made me fall prey to my daughter’s
suggestion that she would like to have a go at my unruly, Einstein-like mop of
hair, and give it some shape. That’s what I remember her saying to me.
The time
and date were set. I sat on a four-legged stool with a plastic sheet under to
collect the soot-like snowflakes as they dropped to the floor. I mused that we
rarely remember to tip the person in the salon who gathers the mass of hair
when we are done with the haircut.
I closed
my eyes as my daughter chipped away. I imagined Michelangelo chipping away at
the marble until the only thing left was the magnificent sculpture of
David.
Then she
stopped. She brushed my hair from side to side. I guess she was giving it some
shape. She ran to get the vanity case mirror from the adjoining room. I heard
her footsteps retreating and then could barely hear her tip-toeing back to me.
Only her giggly and half-frightened words, “OK, you can open your eyes now, Dad”.
I did. I
gasped. Not noticeably, I hope.
For the
first time ever, my family saw my full forehead. If fact, my wife remarked. “I
did know you had such a large forehead. You know it is a mark of
high intelligence.”
My
daughter had cut my hair to the hairline all round. My other kids passed by
without commenting. They are too well-bred to show their feelings, untended.
My novice
hair-dresser was insistent on instant feedback on her work of art. I was torn
between my Catholic upbringing of always telling the truth and the reality that
was reflecting back at me from the mirror. I could not find the words. My best
effort to provide feedback led to some cosmic utterances, “umm”, and such.
Here was
a child desiring to free her dad from the frizzy mess and pursuing an
alternative career proactively, just in case the hoped-for job does not
materialize after completing her B.Com.
I did not
want her to despair, nor smother her interest in developing alternative skills.
Finally, I got the words out. I lied. I said, the styling was not exactly what
I had hoped for. But, this ‘army’ look is what I have always desired, but did
not have the guts to attempt before this day. So ‘thank you’ for the bold
styling.
My
daughter is Catholic. She spoke the truth to authority. “Relax Dad. In a day or
two or at best a week, your hair will grow back, and you will look great”.
My eldest
son came back from work and he saw me, or saw someone sitting on the sofa, and
turned on his suave-self to say something in greeting to the strange looking
guest. Then reality struck. His words were most devastating. “What happened
here, Dad?”. You let Priya cut your hair? What were you thinking?
I wanted
to say, what was on my mind, “I was not thinking”.
For an
(ad) agency guy solving clients’ most intractable business problems I asked
myself why I did not give my daughter a proper brief and set expectations
upfront: a single-minded proposition.
“Make
sure my remaining hair is at least the width of your finger over which the scissor
may do its job.”
Over the
dinner table the commiserations and discussions continued and one of my sons
asked the apprentice stylist why did she not leave some hair over the forehead
instead of cutting to the hairline. Seems such an obvious thing to do, he said.
And,
reality hit again. She said, “I have never seen an adult male hair being cut,
so how was I to know?” True! True!
When the
dust settled on this episode I was stirred by a thought. Do folks in marketing
make the same kind of mistakes in engaging and briefing its advertising agency?
1. From approaching the best
in the business, do we cut corners to settle for ‘apprentices’ and still hope
to get clutter-bursting, cash-register ringing, outcomes?
2. Do we take the pains to
give a proper brief or hope the service provider will figure things out for
themselves, after all, they are the communication experts?
3. Do we engage with the
service provider in the creation process to provide guidance to get the end
product right (agile development) or do we wait blissfully for the end product
to be presented only to reject it and clarify the brief, post facto?
4. Do we leap to judgement on
first look at the creative work or do we let it sink in to appreciate its
boldness and nuances?
5. Do we find the words when
things go wrong to continue to encourage when the original sin is with the
marketer for not providing a specific and inspirational brief to achieve the
desired outcome, the very first time, and not at the unpaid cost of several
iterations?
6. Do we partner with our
agency seeking mutual growth or treat them as vendors to execute our thinking
and blame them when the campaign bombs?
7. Do we take pride that
because of our marketing expertise the communication agency too has grown in
lockstep to prominence working on the brand?
My
daughter was right. It took just a good night’s rest and a refreshing, warm
water bath in the morning, for me to appreciate my daughter’s enthusiastic
effort. While she has the talent for hair dressing, I would still like her to
finish her B.Com. and expand her scope to lot more challenging
assignments.
Through
all of the emotions coursing through my arteries, my daughter unaffected by all
that she had wrought, asked me if I would allow her to cut my hair again. All I
could muster to say to continue to encourage her in her pursuits was, “Let’s
talk about it in three months’ time.”
Chances are, you recognized the first four names up there. No marks for that. But, who the hell is TAC?
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