"We Make People Happy" Part 1
I'm going to tell you a story.
It's a true story, a personal story. It's a story about stories, about branding, about marketing and how they influence user experience. And like all stories it has its highs and its lows.
I began my career at Baskin-Robbins 31 Ice Cream in the early 1970s. Starting with a high school job at a company-owned store near the main office, it blossomed into an association that lasted 32 years—15 years on the payroll and the remainder as a consultant. It was a heady time and place for a young guy to break into the business world as Baskin-Robbins reached its pinnacle of success in the mid- to late-70s.
I spent most of my time on staff as a trainer, teaching an intensive three-week course to new franchisees. Each began the same way. After a morning of orientation and administration, we'd reconvene after lunch for the first instructional session. It was always a moment of high drama and tension. I'd doff my official blue blazer, roll up my sleeves and ask a question:
"What kind of company is Baskin-Robbins?"
There was invariably a pause as the class wondered what to make of such a baldly obvious question. Finally, someone would carefully suggest, "It's an ice cream company."
"Yes—we do make ice cream," I'd say. " But that's not what we primarily do."
Another pause. "It's a franchising company," someone else would call out.
"Yes, we do franchise stores—and that's why you're here," I'd reply. "But that's still not our essential business."
I can't remember anyone ever arriving at the answer: "Baskin-Robbins is a marketing company." And from there I'd explain why this was so very important.
This all came back to me today as I was reading Seth Godin's rollicking All Marketers Are Liars: The Power of Telling Authentic Stories in a Low-Trust World.
I'll review the book another time, but for now, it's enough to say that Godin asserts that marketing is storytelling.
And the story I'm going to tell about Baskin-Robbins over the next few days will show how right Godin is.
It's a true story, a personal story. It's a story about stories, about branding, about marketing and how they influence user experience. And like all stories it has its highs and its lows.
I began my career at Baskin-Robbins 31 Ice Cream in the early 1970s. Starting with a high school job at a company-owned store near the main office, it blossomed into an association that lasted 32 years—15 years on the payroll and the remainder as a consultant. It was a heady time and place for a young guy to break into the business world as Baskin-Robbins reached its pinnacle of success in the mid- to late-70s.
I spent most of my time on staff as a trainer, teaching an intensive three-week course to new franchisees. Each began the same way. After a morning of orientation and administration, we'd reconvene after lunch for the first instructional session. It was always a moment of high drama and tension. I'd doff my official blue blazer, roll up my sleeves and ask a question:
"What kind of company is Baskin-Robbins?"
There was invariably a pause as the class wondered what to make of such a baldly obvious question. Finally, someone would carefully suggest, "It's an ice cream company."
"Yes—we do make ice cream," I'd say. " But that's not what we primarily do."
Another pause. "It's a franchising company," someone else would call out.
"Yes, we do franchise stores—and that's why you're here," I'd reply. "But that's still not our essential business."
I can't remember anyone ever arriving at the answer: "Baskin-Robbins is a marketing company." And from there I'd explain why this was so very important.
This all came back to me today as I was reading Seth Godin's rollicking All Marketers Are Liars: The Power of Telling Authentic Stories in a Low-Trust World.
And the story I'm going to tell about Baskin-Robbins over the next few days will show how right Godin is.
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