George Parker: brand or sales?

It would seem that the mind-bending and increasingly dumb debate pitting brand building against performance marketing continues to pile up the snakes and bent wire coat hangers in the fevered brains of America’s CMOs.

Thousands of whom shelled out thousands of dollars to attend last week’s Masters of Marketing Conference, (Did they all wear capes and carry little shields?) An event in Orlando, Florida, which is put on annually by the Association of National Advertisers.

While they had the chance (The average tenure for an American CMO is less than two years) they argued for the value of brand building instead of the less glamorous task of actually selling stuff. In my naivety, I have to ask the dumb-arsed question…If you don’t sell your product, how long will you have a brand?

It takes me back to 1962 when I had just disembarked from the Queen Mary in New York City. For some inexplicable reason, I had managed to get myself an interview with David Ogilvy. I was ushered into his office, which resembled something out of Downtown Abbey; there was a fire burning in the grate (It was July) and a suit of armor in the corner.

Wielding his giant fuming briar pipe he waved me into a seat and very graciously gave me thirty minutes of his valuable time.

At one point, I asked him if anyone was dumb enough to offer me a job, what kind of salary should I ask for. Pointing the giant fuming briar at me he said… “Dear boy, I never discuss money, I employ people who discuss money, you’ll have to talk to them.” I never did, as they never offered me a job.

As I was leaving, with a final wave of the giant fuming briar, he said to me… “Never forget, the business of advertising is selling.” I left and finally got a job at B&B, where, lucky me, I inherited Mr. Whipple. My next meeting with David was some thirty years later, when I was perma-lancing at Ogilvy, New York. Primarily tasked to head up a forlorn attempt to save the Compaq Computer account.

One evening a group of us were in an Ogilvy conference room, now somewhat grandiosely named “The Compaq War Room,” eating cold pizza, drinking warm beer and doing various illegal substances, when the door burst open and in came David accompanied by two minders. He was in his mid-eighties, stone deaf and living out his retirement at Chateau Touffou.

“What are you lot doing?” He shouted. The team discretely placed layout pads and other odds and ends over the illegal shit as I explained how we were going to save the Compaq account. Obviously, we didn’t, but I trousered a ton of money.

As he was leaving, he turned and shouted. “Never forget, the business of advertising is selling.” The old bugger got an ‘A’ for consistency. No idea what the ‘Masters of Marketing’ would think about that!