Put on a Friendly Face

The other day, a student spoke about how "unwelcoming" a college could be.  She spoke of being made to feel like a nuisance when she sought help from college staff members.  Then someone else--an administrator, this time--talked about how he once, as a sort of experiment, decided to stand in line at the Admissions counter to get a sense of what the experience was like.  He described being struck by the preponderance of signage advising people what they couldn't do: "Please end all cell phone conversations before speaking to the clerical staff"; "Do not place anything on the counter"; "Please do not tease or feed the financial aid representatives."  I kid about that last one, but you get the idea.

The student then went on to describe how, from her point of view, so much of the communication she experienced at the college took this kind of negative or domineering tone:  the typical class syllabus, for example.  Now, a syllabus is, essentially, a contract between an instructor and his class.  It outlines what the course will cover, as well as the expectations for both students and faculty.  As such, the syllabus must be fairly extensive and formal.  And this formality can certainly be intimidating: "Assignments must be handed in on the dates indicated. No late assignments will be accepted, and students will receive a grade of '0' for any assignment not handed in": "All written assignments must follow MLA format.  Any papers that fail to adhere to MLA format will receive a failing grade": "Students who miss more than six hours of class will be dropped from the class."

Again, as a quasi-legal document, the course syllabus must serve its contractual obligation and clearly delineate the rules and expectations.  But what the student said got me thinking about why (or whether) an official document had to be so draconian sounding.  What would a "softer" syllabus sound like?  "In order for me [i.e., the instructor] to give you helpful feedback on your work, you need to make sure that you hand work in on time.  Unfortunately, due to the limited time we have over the course of the semester, I cannot accept late work"; "In this class, you will learn how to document sources properly using MLA format.  After you learn these techniques, you will need to apply them to your formal written assignments for this--and other--classes"; "We cover a lot of information in our class meetings, so, if you miss more than six hours of class, you will not be able to do all the necessary work to achieve a passing grade.  In that event, I may drop you from the class so that you do not receive a failing grade."

A difference without a distinction?  Possibly.  Still, it pays for an organization to think about the minor variations possible in the ways it interacts with its clientele. Small gestures in the service of better presentation may make a big difference to the customer.

Blowing Smoke

Sometimes I read the paper and get the feeling that I'm supposed to be outraged or indignant, and yet I just can't get myself all worked up.  So it was today upon reading a front-page article about how cigar manufacturers entice the young and impressionable (i.e., the stupid) by peddling tobacco products in a variety of flavors that would make Bertie Botts proud (just google it).  Grape cigars! Cherry cigars!  Chocolate cigars!  If my stepfather--a true cigar aficionado--were alive today, he'd be rolling over in his grave at such sacrilege--or at the very least yuckiness.

The point of the article, though, was that cigar manufacturers were finding ways to sidestep federal laws against marketing tobacco products to minors by selling Wonka-esque cigarillos, which are not subject to congressional regulation.  The FDA has discretion to regulate such products, and the agency has promised to introduce new rules, but as yet no such rules have been promulgated.  And frankly, I just don't care.

As a lifelong non-smoker, I have no love for the tobacco industry.  I would certainly discourage people from smoking.  At the same time, I just think the government has more important things to do than pass ever more laws protecting people from their own self-destructive behaviors.  By this time, everybody knows smoking will kill you.  If people choose to do it anyway, isn't that their business?  Why does the government need to get involved?

Laws against smoking in public places make sense: They protect the innocent bystander from the toxic effects of other people's personal behavior.  But it seems to me at best hypocritical for the government to say, on the one hand, that a product is perfectly legal, but, on the other hand, that the makers of this product cannot attempt to sell it to the broadest clientele possible.  And after all, if you own a business, and the product you sell reliably kills a large portion of your customers, then you need to do all the marketing you can.  That's just the American way!

Send the Solipsist a Chuck E. Cheese Gift Card

When I go on Facebook and wish a friend--or even a "friend"--a "Happy Birthday," I don't particularly mind a message popping up encouraging me to "Send Lemuel [for example] a Starbuck's gift card."  I don't actually send Lemuel such a gift, but I don't mind the reminder.  After all, it's the thought that counts, so even if Facebook is forcing me to have the thought. . . well, you're welcome, Lemuel!

Lately, though, I've noticed definite "gift-encouragement creep."  It started when I congratulated someone on his wedding.  I was encouraged to send--let's say, Zoltan--an Amazon gift card.  Well, OK--a wedding is an appropriate gift-giving occasion.  But then I made a comment--not even a congratulations, as I recall--on someone's picture of his five-year-old graduating from kindergarten--AND I WAS EXHORTED TO "SEND ZIPPY A TGI FRIDAY'S GIFT CERTIFICATE"!

Now, come on, Folks!  First of all, I'm not convinced that graduating from kindergarten is even a thing, much less an occasion for gift-giving or congratulations!  When I graduated from kindergarten, the only "congratulations" I got was an extra scoop of macaroni and cheese and a day off from cleaning the scullery!  (Oh, mine was a hard childhood!)  Second of all, if anyone deserves a TGI Friday's gift certificate for graduating kindergarten, I would think it is Zippy's five-year-old, rather than Zippy himself!

Where will it end?  Will we soon be encouraged to send Home Depot gift cards to anyone whose status we "Like"?  Can we no longer engage in minimally effortful communications with our friends, acquaintances, and virtual stalkers without constant intrusions of the crassest commercial nature?  Resist, I say!  Save your gift-giving for those times when it is truly merited. . . like, when you read a truly entertaining blog post.

Great Moments in Branding

The Ford Motor Company has announced that it will soon offer a new light truck that will be " the first-ever EcoBoost^®-powered sport truck"--whatever that means.  The truck will go on sale this fall and it will be named. . . the Tremor.

Keep an eye out for a related story, in which the Ford Motor Company lays off its director of marketing--or whoever thought it a great idea to name a truck after a symptom of Parkinson's Disease.  What names did they reject?  The Ford Rigidity? The Ford Incontinence?  The Ford Bradykinesia?  (Look it up!)  This undoubtedly marks the worst instance of vehicle branding since General Motors started naming its luxury fleet after major figures of the Third Reich.  I've been trying to unload my Chrysler Ribbentrop for years!