Bric-A-Brac Branding

Below is the seventh article in our $150 competition sponsored by BizSugar.com. It’s submitted by Michael Bennett Cohn, who is the publisher for the online magazine Revolving Floor. Good luck to everyone who contributed an article!

 

Most small brick-and-mortar businesses don’t brand the inside of their establishments. I didn’t realize this until I started playing Foursquare, the shopping scorecard social media iPhone game. Foursquare awards users points for “checking in” at their favorite restaurants, bars, convenience stores, etc. Often, in recent months, when I’m taking out my phone during an idle moment waiting for my food, or a drink, or to pay, I’ve found myself thinking: “I should check in here on Foursquare!” followed quickly by “What the heck is the name of this place?”

There’s plenty of branding inside chain establishments like Olive Garden, McDonalds, 7-11, or The Cheesecake Factory. That’s because the chain, taking the long view, wants customers to stay interested in the brand, so that they’ll see each franchise as just one manifestation of the greater whole.

But once you enter an independent restaurant, bar, shop, or even grocery store, if you forgot the name of the place on the way in, then you’re probably not going to be reminded of it again until your next visit.

When I was in college, I worked at a place in Lawrence, Kansas called Joe’s Donuts. The catchy name was just a coincidence, as the original owner’s name really was Joe. The food was good and cheap, the place was open late and located near a couple of nightclubs, and Joe’s was hugely popular with the students. (A donut-loving girl once introduced herself to me on campus after overhearing me say that I worked there.) Customers regularly asked of their own volition if we sold t-shirts. We didn’t. I talked to the proprietor, Ralph (Joe’s son) about it. “Yeah, the kids ask about those, so sometimes I think maybe we should make some,” he said. “But what would they say? ‘Eat at Joe’s?’”

Ralph also kept the store closed on Saturdays, which would have surely been his best day for business. I tried to convince him to give it a shot. He shrugged. “It’s not a question of profits,” he said. “I just don’t want to work Saturdays.” The closed storefront was noted weekly by disappointed would-be customers, leading to widespread speculation as to what Ralph did with his Saturdays. “That’s when this place is closed,” was the only explanation that he offered querulous donut-buyers.

Around this time (1991) localized versions of Monopoly were a popular gift item. The Monopoly people scoped out our little college town, and determined that Joe’s Donuts was enough of a landmark to warrant a spot on the board (instead of, say, Park Place). They approached Ralph and asked him to pay for the privilege. He refused, and he continued to refuse as they kept lowering the cost. Ralph told them that he didn’t play Monopoly, and that he wasn’t interested in participating at any price. But the truth was that the Monolopy board based on Lawrence, Kansas just wasn’t complete without Joe’s Donuts. People would expect it to be there. And, indeed, it ended up on the board anyway.

At the time, Ralph saw this as a triumph of practicality over silliness. His business was successful in the physical world, and that was all that mattered. But times have changed. Nearly every local business has been reviewed on Yelp, they all show up on Google Maps, and that inevitable sales call from Foursquare is perhaps the loudest knock yet on the doors of those who don’t want to be dragged into the 21st century. (“We can prove that 100 of your customers check in with us every day. Do you want the ad they see to be from you, or your nearest competition?”)

It’s increasingly understood among online startups, even those focused on direct-response business, that they need a recognizable name, logo, and design. That’s just part of the deal. So is participating in the social media basics, such as tweeting and setting up a Facebook fan page. The social media landscape is eclipsing reality so quickly that brick-and-mortars are already part of it, whether they want to be or not.

In other words, every small business has a brand now, even the no-name bodega on the corner with no signage anywhere. Even proprietors who like to think that they can’t, or won’t, be bothered with something as abstract as shaping their customers’ long-term associations with the place are going to increasingly find that this attitude is not tenable. The no-name bodega on the corner will end up on Yelp as “No-name Bodega On Corner,” or not at all. And places that don’t bother to remind customers where they are will get fewer online mentions. It won’t be long before someone looking for, say, a toothbrush, will enter a search into their phone and then scan their surroundings through the viewfinder, looking for augmented reality signage hanging in the air. Those signs won’t be “hung” by the proprietors; they’ll be hung by the aggregators. And businesses who haven’t taken their image seriously by that point are literally going to disappear.

In New York, there’s a joke about what to tell a tourist when they ask you where to find the best pizza in the city. The answer is “Ray’s.” And there are indeed many pizza places called Ray’s throughout New York. Also, they have no connection to each other.

It’s a good joke, but it won’t be funny for very much longer.

Photo Credit: tandemracer

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