ITV

Tag: Mr Bose

  • Murder by numbers…

    The brand versus sales debate has raged ever since a not so famous Greek philosopher sub let the empty seats in his ‘platonic posturing’ classroom to tired travelers who promised to conceal their mirth as he conducted semi nude experiments on the rich and the infamous. Subsequently this laid the foundation for the guesthouse business (the resting of the travelers, not the semi nude stuff), what became of the philosopher is anyone’s guess.

    “And that’s our campaign, while I must say that we see great advertising coming out of it, I also think it will do wonders in term of increasing brand equity, we will occupy a unique position in the consumers mind.” Concluded PP (the creative director of the exaggerated moustache fame), clearly pleased with the way his presentation had gone.

    There was a hushed pause across the table. The marketing head Mr Bose had a rumor of a smile on his face. His subordinate Madhukar Lele (first name, courtesy parents, the second, general public) was typically non-committal, even expressionwise. All eyes rested on the Chairman of the company, Mr Digvijay Sharma (refer ‘Monday Morning Blues’ in the archive), the doyen of the itching cream industry and the man who had virtually started from scratch, literally, figuratively and metaphorically.

    The Chairman had a metallic ear and Ram Shankar always doubted how much of anything he actually heard. He turned a little to face the agency team, the ear clanking along the way.

    “In the debate of brand versus sale, it is the brand that must always pale,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) had as always invisibly delivered his early morning tea cup and free consultancy with the quickness of advertisers rushing back to Ganguly, post current events.

    “The campaign might be fine, but what will it do for my sales?” enquired the Chairman in his measured tone. Pausing to emphasize every word like he was proof checking them. The agency team did what they did best at such times. They shot bewildered, urgent and enquiring looks furtively at each other. There was PP (described in an earlier bracket), Vikas (the extremely flamboyant account head), Dharti (the extremely ravishing account planning head) and Ram (the extremely ordinary account executive) in the room and classically, this was the case of someone having to start the defense.

    “Well of course it will increase the sale, this campaign will help the brand make inroads into many more homes,” began Vikas, to the background of an inward groan from PP.

    “How many homes?” asked the Chairman, gaze fixed on Vikas in a manner that suggested he had some past in third degree interrogative practices.

    “Well we can’t exactly tell you that,” started Vikas

    “Its impossible to exactly establish how much of a sales increase can be directly attributed to advertising,” cooed Dharti euphoniously in support.

    “Advertising is not an exact science in that sense,” quipped in PP

    “It is an exacting one,” interrupted the chairman with a sardonic chuckle,” considering how much we spend every year. And yet my sales have never really taken off.”

    “Sir, we need to nurture this brand for a while,” said Mr Bose, for once, trying to help the agency, “New communication and new positioning always need time to register.”

    “And what is the time it needs? I am getting tired of the same argument, I need to see more sales,” interjected the Chairman, still looking at Dharti.

    “What we need is a promotional offer,” began Madhukar Lele, and as was usually the case whenever he troubled the airwaves, was swamped by a blitzkrieg of contrasting opinion.
    “Really? that makes no sense at all,” started Dharti.

    “Lele use your head, at least once a while,” boomed PP.

    “Where are your branding fundamentals man?” enquired Vikas.

    “Can’t you for once try and see the larger picture?” remarked an irritated Mr Bose, justifying the last name sobriquet so aptly bestowed on his subordinate. Ram was silent, his eyes fixed on the Chairman.

    “You know, I like that idea” started the Chairman.

    “But the brand image?” began Dharti.

    “Our beautiful campaign?” said PP.

    “The competitive framework?” added Mr Bose.

    “Tea anyone?” asked Vikas, doing his ‘servicing’ bit, and quickly getting an eyeful from his colleagues.

    “Yes, I will have tea,” replied Madhukar Lele, and once again bore the brunt of a ‘redirected frustration’ wave.

    “Can’t you stop thinking about yourself for even a minute?” began Mr Bose.

    “This is such a huge issue and that’s all you can think about?” reprimanded Dharti, as Lele’s face fell to the floor with a thud.

    “Spare the chap,” boomed the Chairman, “he has said the only thing that has made any kind of sense in this room.”

    There was silence all around and Madhukar Lele’s face was a sight for sore eyes (well actually he was grinning from ear to ear, but still).

    “We begin this year with a sales campaign unless anyone has an objection,” roared the Chairman in a manner that unequivocally elucidated the value of silence. PP, Vikas, Dharti and Mr Bose exchanged knowing ‘lets give it up’ glances, as yet beyond the comprehension of young Ram.

    “Sir, don’t you think that given the task for this year and the fact that what we were recommending is so unique and different from the competition, we should invest in a brand campaign? If you create the right associations in the mind, the results in the market are but a logical corollary. Getting into a promotional activity at this time will only send confusing signals to the consumer, it will erode our equity.” Ram paused for breath, scarcely believing what he had said, neither did the others.

    Mr Bose’s face was an agitated purple. Vikas’s expression was that of concealed panic. Dharti’s was of a grudging envy. PP’s was that of restrained amusement. Madhukar as always was expressionless.

    “No young man, I do not invest in equity,” began the Chairman to the bemusement of everyone, “don’t trust this stock market boom. I believe in making money the old fashioned way, and now lets be gone.”

    He galvanized Mr Bose and Madhukar Lele out of the conference room and into his car to do a market visit.

    “What happened there?” asked Ram, after they had left

    “Chief you were lucky you were sitting on his wrong ‘ear’ side, so he did not hear what you were saying, but you nearly screwed us there,” said an angry Vikas as he stormed out of the room, Dharti closely following him.

    “Don’t worry about your boss, he is anally retentive,” offered PP in a surprisingly gentle tone,” I thought you made sense.”

    “But why did he decide on the promotion?” asked Ram.

    PP helplessly shrugged his shoulders and walked out.

    “If sales numbers are the acid test, the brand will be murdered and laid to rest”, these wise words of wisdom were whispered in Ram’s ear as he felt the tea cup nestle in his fingers and looked up just in time to see Chai-La disappear into a discarded pack of the itching cream in question.

  • Meet the Big C

    A consultant: – An outside entity who is paid to bring objectivity, expertise and insight into a client’s working. However, the only skill that he seems to employ is the art of collating comments made from diverse sources, processing and polishing then a touch and then presenting them as his own, with aplomb. This insidious transference of the source of an idea, many a times results in its full throated approval.
    (For all those of you who make a career doing this, kudos to you, I wish I was in your place, and in case anyone is hiring I have my id at the bottom)

    “Old Chinese Proverb, words spoken by someone who is being paid through your nose always sound better, though a little nasal,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup in Ram’s hand and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen tea boy) had vanished into the absurdness of his comment before anyone could pause to notice.

    The agency team had gathered in the client’s office to discuss the impending launch of a multinational competitor. Since this was typically the kind of news that sends thorn rimmed shivers down the spines of the marketing department, the client had decided to call in the cavalry. Word was sent out to the Big C, the clients marketing consultant.

    The Big C was almost a reverential name in the industry. People swore by his name-at errant laser printers, red card happy referees and overindulgent accountants. His appearance was immaculate. He always seemed to have gadgets that were a few years ahead of everything else present in the room (a minor alteration on the system clock did help).

    He was a master of business models and never passed up a single opportunity to know them better. This had resulted in three divorces at last count. He featured regularly in media. His opinions were sought after by all and sundry, whenever the economy twisted in its slumber. He was a man who had a reputation, which wasn’t something that anyone from the agency team could honestly claim.

    When the Big C entered, a feeling of awe swept across the room. Immediately the concept of the ‘awe continuum’ came to the fore. The clients marketing team, featuring Mr.Bose (the marketing head) and Mr. Lele (his external organ), stared tongue tied as the Big C strode to the head of the table. The agency’s brand management team (Vikas, Dharti and Ram) were also awed, but to a lesser degree and PP (the creative director with the trademark moustache) was very low on awe. In fact he was staring with some amount of hostility at the consultant.

    “Welcome friends, we have gathered here to discuss our future strategy, especially given the competitive scenario. Let us try and have a constructive discussion to arrive at a long-

     

     

     

    term solution. I must thank the Big C also for kindly consenting to grace us with his presence and hopefully we will all get inspired to think better in his August company, even though this is September.”

    Mr. Bose paused to see if his wisecrack had gone down well; the Big C smiled back boosting his confidence multifold.

    “And now let’s just begin the discussion, let it be a free flowing exchange of ideas without fear of who is getting hurt by what is being said, let’s be brave, let’s think different. Let’s question the conventions. Lets just pull out all the stops to finding a winning solution,” he concluded red faced from the exertion of talking passionately, short of throwing down a blood stained handkerchief on the table he had pretty much set the mood. As it was wisely said it was too ‘let’ to turn around.

    “I would like to hear what the agency has to say on the issue. They are after all your brand custodians. They will be in touch with the pulse of the consumer,” began the Big C in a voice that demanded instant respect, attention and clearance of outstanding bills. He then unraveled a space age looking gadget that made the usual laptops look like elementary level slates. As everyone else looked on in envy he began punching keys with the ferocity of a circus clown going through his comic routine.

    “Well, we believe that we really have nothing to fear,” began Vikas, in his confidently cherubic tone, and then realizing he had hit a brick wall kicked Dharti under the table.

    “The reason for that is that we have created new niches in the market and have sustained our value proposition across non homogenous audiences across the years, so we are prepared for any eventuality,” Dharti, the agency’s curvaceously crafted account planning head, chipped in while maintaining unwavering eye contact with the Big C.

    The Big C met her gaze and a wicked smile began to form on the outlines of his lips that made Ram feel distinctly jealous.

    “The only thing we need to do is keep advertising, so what is they are multinationals, this is our country, different rules apply here. We must increase our presence in India, possibly even create new more relevant communication that has international overtones” boomed PP, reaching decibel levels that rearranged data on Big C’s wonder gadget.

    The Big C was studiously at it on his machine when the others were speaking. From time to time he was checking the temperature in the room and was drawing imaginary triangles of influence across the various speakers in the room. He had an all knowing grin permanently plastered on. Ram found all this very strange.

    “Why should we advertise? We should just stop and see what they will do.” That was Madhur Lele, first name courtesy parents, the last endowed by the general public.

    “Absolute nonsense,” exploded PP.

    “That’s completely short sighted,” exclaimed Vikas.

    “Such mediocre thinking,” commented the receptionist (though outside the room and in a completely different context)

    “Lele you better clear your marketing fundamentals,” ended Mr. Bose, relishing the opportunity to make his subordinate squirm.

    The Big C remained silent and did not raise his eyes above the wonder gadget.

    “We need a promotional scheme to keep the consumer loyal initially,” murmured Mr. Bose, “the propensity to switch might be high initially.”

    “Yes that’s true Mr. Bose, research shows that if morality is falling, brand loyalty is never something that should be taken for granted,” cooed Dharti in a manner that immediately made her appear intelligent, or was it the lighting in the room?

    “Well, what do you have to say?” The Big C suddenly asked Ram, emphasizing on the underline. To say that the question had caught Ram in the cold would be detrimental to the idea of an understatement.

    In his bewildered state he glanced down at Vikas’s cell phone and drew inspiration from the logo.

    “Maybe we need a motto,” he said with uncertainity.
    The rest of the room erupted in laughter, the loudest guffaws emanating from Madhur Lele who was thrilled to get the opportunity to mock someone for a change.

    As the mirth subsided, Mr. Bose asked the Big C the inevitable question.

    “What do you have to say, sir?”

    The Big C motioned him to be silent and upped the tempo of his interaction with the wonder gadget, lights were flashing and techno sounds were squealing in digital agony. Finally he triumphantly raised his eyes and looked at the room. He paused for a full minute and then stood to his full height. He casually sauntered around the room in a manner that made everyone uncomfortable. Then he stopped dead center.

    “This is an interesting and challenging problem, luckily my years of experience and cutting edge technology have enabled me to come up with the right tool that we must follow for success,” he paused briefly to caress the wonder gadget almost sensually.

    “The tool is my trademarked model ACPM, a brand defense module against aggression in the marketplace. This is inspired by the ICBM, which famously formed the bulwark of the security programs of many nations around the world.” He paused again drinking in the awe, for those who keep status; even PP was jumping up in intensity level on the ‘awe continuum’.

    “A stands for await. Wait and watch first what the competition will do, C stands for Counter or make our approach more Contemporary and relevant. P stands for Persevere with this strategy and if in doubt fall back on Promotions and M stands for motto, we need something that will drive morale within and outside the organization, a kind of rallying call that will inspire people to greater things. Something that the agency will surely develop given their expertise.”

    He concluded as he triumphantly scribbled the acronym on the board, adding the trademark symbol almost mechanically.

    There was a hushed silence in the room as everyone sat transfixed taking in those alphabets. They seemed to have hypnotized the room.

    Mr. Bose was the first to recover, “Thank you sir that makes so much sense. We will all get down to it. That was truly inspiring, ACPM, such a brilliant model. We are very keen to apply it from today. You have given us so much hope.”

    The agency personnel grudgingly admitted that they were floored by the new strategic initiative.

    “We will start work on the slogan,” offered Vikas helpfully, knowing full well that his remark would cause PP’s blood pressure to rise like a salmon out of water.

    Ram excused himself to leave the room, he deliberately walked behind Big C’s chair to sneak a peek at the wonder gadget and what he saw made his jaw drop beyond the confines of his face. There was nothing on the other side of the impressive shell. It was just a sophisticated game of ‘0’s and X’s’ that the Big C had been playing all along. The Big C caught him looking at his little secret and shot back a refined but decidedly dangerous glance that made Ram scurry to the men’s room even faster.

    Back in the office, Ram sat stooped in his chair. Trying to write the minutes of the previous meeting, still feeling slightly robbed on the whole.

    “Your ideas make for meaningful meal, but if you aren’t careful someone will steal,” the high pitched cackle, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La disappeared in the words typed out in bold on Ram’s screen. ACPM

  • Your Number is up!

    The Media Review – Most men have a problem comprehending figures (except those of the female form). Figures intimidate men and take them back to memories of how euphoric they felt when they made it to college and it dawned on them that mathematics was optional. These men spend the best part of their lives ignoring any numbers thrown their way. On the other hand there are those (select few) whose very world is around numerals. For whom creating pie charts, bar graphs and any other vulgar representations of data, is like chicken soup for the soul. The media review is the forum where these two opposing philosophies meet.

    ‘One-two-three-four, lord I can’t take figures no more’ the fake American drawl failed to mask the heavy Chinese accent, as Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) delivered his nursery rhyme sounding pearl of wisdom plus the customary tea cup to Ram Shankar, before vanishing into the footnote of a pie chart.

    The agency and the client teams had gathered for the annual media review, taking place in the agency conference room. It was meant to be a very important assessment of where the client was spending his budgets and how efficiently the agency was buying for him.

    The agency President had begun the meeting by saying, “Planimus, our media head, has put together a presentation that frankly made no sense to me. But hopefully will be seen in a better light by all of you. Can we have more lights please?” he finished with a thunderous laugh, meant to awaken the dead and generally frighten some of the numbers on the presentation that were eager to come out.

    Planimus, who was a person who did his media plans with almost gladiatorial passion (hence the sobriquet, his real name was lost in the annals of time) was hardly cheered by that remark of the President. He quickly shot a glance at Vikas (the account head and Ram’s boss) urging him to open with something more sensible.

    “Thank you sir,” started Vikas, patronizingly patting the President’s hand to calm him down, “We are gathered here because Planimus has worked out a past assessment and more importantly a future implication of our media plans and budgets. So lets absorb what he has to say and then make our budgetary decisions in a more evolved and scientific manner. After all it’s all about spending money more wisely.”

    Ram knew that while that was a good opening, Vikas’s knowledge and interest in media ended there.

    Mr Bose, the client marketing head, spoke up, “Why don’t we call in PP (the creative director) he should also be a part of this.”
    An uncomfortably silent five minutes later PP entered like his name was just short listed for the train to Auschwitz

    “Ok, let’s begin with a GRP analysis, region wise, and see how these met with our set objectives,” started Planimus with almost lusty enthusiasm and then without warning displayed a slide that had a table on it, on which the figures looked as if they would be much happier elsewhere.

    There was a collective inward groan from most people in the room.

    “Why are you showing so many figures? What’s the story behind them?” asked a visibly dazed Vikas.

    “The story, my young fellow,” began Planimus in a tone that Vikas instantly hated, “is how we are doing across the country against what we had set to do.”

    “Then why don’t you just say it in a line?” PP enquired

    “It can be, but this is an analytical process and we would lead to that, also don’t you think that the client deserves to be walked through every step, especially when monetary considerations are involved?”

    “I don’t think you should dwell on this too much,” interrupted the President resurfacing briefly after he had instantly popped off to sleep just about the time Planimus had stood up to present.

    “Ok,” said Planimus with a huff and jumped 19 slides in the presentation, though clearly working under protest.

    “Why are we falling short of our GRP’s?” enquired Mr.Bose.

    “Don’t worry about these things,” boomed the President, “These are just figures, I don’t even think there is much scientific basis to them,” Planimus clearly miffed by that point raised an outraged eyebrow, which the President glossed over with the casual flick of the wrist, “but maybe if the GRP’s are down you need to spend more.” He concluded with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

    “Why don’t we try and isolate the pattern that is emerging?” asked Bose in a tone that he hoped would make his IQ level shoot twenty points.

    “Well, we started with bar graphs, then we graduated to pie charts, soon Planimus will be plucking numbers from the very fabric of the cosmos,” concluded the President again finishing with that thunderclap of a laugh that shook a few numbers out of their reverie.

    “What’s the point of these numbers? I never see our commercials on TV?” queried PP.
    “You are in office till midnight everyday, you don’t even watch TV, plus you aren’t the target audience,” retorted Planimus.

    “PP has a point though,” began Mr Bose, as the face of Planimus began changing colors with the speed of an agitated chameleon. “Why don’t we see the commercials, even the chairman complains that his wife never sees them?”

    Planimus was tempted to say something unconstitutional about the Chairman’s wife, but years of wisdom prevailed.

    “We judge media on the basis of how well our target is being exposed to the message. Our target as we all know is the lower middle class, what use is it, even if the chairman’s wife sees our ad, for groin itching creams? We have only that much money to spend.”

    “Are you saying that you want more money?” asked Bose in a rather bellicose tone.

    “Yes, of course we always need more money,” chimed in the President and was instantly knocked out when Planimus exposed him to a slide with 144 matrix cells.

    “What I am saying is that we have to balance the fine line between those who will give us sales versus those whom we just have to pamper and as you know the latter is a statistically insignificant number,” said a defiant Planimus

    “Why don’t we just look at the larger picture and make our conclusions thereof?” interjected Vikas, doing his ‘servicing bit’ to preserve the tender equilibrium of the meeting. There was a marked rise in the temperature in the room, beyond the scope of work of the air conditioner.

    “We can, but things will only make sense if you people change your attitude towards numbers and stop being so intimidated by them.”

    “Who is intimidated?” nothing intimidates me, said the President awakening fresher.

    “We all understand numbers Planimus, numbers are the very basis of our functioning,” added Mr Bose, though cold sweat beads began to form on his forehead as the ‘144 matrix cells’ slide had not been changed over the last ten minutes.

    “Please,” gasped Vikas, “Change that slide, its beginning to suffocate me.”

    Planimus, with a sardonic smile, pushed the page down button to reveal a new adversary, four pie charts that had all the colors of the rainbow on them. PP dashed out of the room covering his mouth. Planimus felt that he had registered a moral victory of some sort.

    “I think Planimus you just type out a mail summarizing the entire presentation, and don’t use any numbers in it. Please also indicate that we will need more budgets.”
    “And analyze each and every number to its logical conclusion, Ram will help you do that, he is good at that and will bring in an account management perspective,” uttered Vikas, adjusting his tie in his reflection on Mr. Bose’s spectacles.

    Ram groaned with disgust, fear and boredom all rolled into one. He dreaded talking to Planimus about numbers, that man was numerically insane.

    “Where did more budgets come from? I never concluded that?”

    “Don’t worry Bose, that’s the sum and substance of the presentation, now let’s go and have a good lunch. Planimus you can come along as long as you don’t start asking for break ups on the bill and drawing bar graphs on the napkins.”

    So the President, Mr Bose, Planimus and Vikas checked out of the room like they had to catch a flight, pie charts still lying appetizingly unattended to on the screen.

    “Media review meetings are very short, because people who attend then have a long history with numbers,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La disintegrated into a Fibonacci sequence of numbers.

    Ram wearily started to go through the first ten slides of the presentation, when almost at once he began to feel that his eyelids were being pulled down by forces beyond his control, he was overcome with the same feeling of nausea one gets when seeing the Indian batting line up perform abroad.

    Then his world went 100 percent black.