Thursday

The Thing You Said You Wanted, or Why Consultants Can Be So Maddening

For years, I admired the tall, slender eugenia that screen the front of my house. I silently thanked them for hiding traffic, passersby and the ugly new houses built on the hill across the street. But after several heavy rains, two of these members of the myrtle family were no longer their old, upright selves. One had pitched forward to lean weakly on my front porch.

I knew I needed expert help. But as a homeowner, I had never been able to find a contractor or handyman who will: (a) listen carefully to what I want done; (b) not insist on bundling unwanted services into the estimate; and (c) do what I said I wanted, in a professional and efficient manner.

All I wanted was to find out if the fallen tree could be saved, and if so, have it and a couple of its neighbors staked.

One arborist spent more than an hour walking around my small property, explaining what was wrong and what should be done.

“I just gave you $150 worth of free advice,” he said at the end of his information-packed tour, punctuated by amusing, elbow-flapping pantomimes of trees that lacked sufficient room to grow.

So now I was supposed to feel so guilty that I would be compelled to hire him to perform various other services I never asked for? Hey, it was his idea to spend his time this way.

Another arborist embarked on a lengthy discussion of how I could find out the name and treatment of the disease that was blistering some of the leaves of my trees. When I finally was able to get a word in, I told her that I already knew what it was, and had been told not to worry about it.

“I appreciate all your information,” I said. “But what about the tree that’s leaning on my house?”

In marketing communications, the same sort of consultant-client miscues often occur.

You probably feel that you know what kind of marketing communications you need, and why you need it. And maybe you’re in a particular hurry to have it produced — for a convention or a fiscal year-end deadline or the incorporation of your new business.

It is reasonable to expect that I will quickly give you a quote specifically for The Thing You Said You Wanted.

But first, I need more information — about the materials you already have (what don’t you like about them?), how you intend to use the new piece, and the identity of your primary and secondary audiences. I need to know how your company sets itself apart from the competition, how it is currently perceived by your customers and how you wish it were perceived.

You and I need to devote some time to this information-gathering activity. We also need to talk about design, which is not some kind of frosting on the cake, but a key ingredient.

[A quick note for those who still believe that a good template is all you need: High-level copywriting and design work together to reinforce your professionalism and promote and sustain your brand identity. Which is just a fancy way of saying that they enable the public face of your company to convey its unique personality in an advanced and systematic way.]

Finally, I’d like to know your ballpark budget, so that I can explain what I can do within your range.

After these questions are answered, I might suggest something other than (or in addition to) The Thing You Said You Wanted. And now that you’ve looked at the bigger picture with me, you may agree.

* * * * * * * * * * *

So I decided to go with the guy who spent so much time looking at the big picture of my garden. He convinced me that I needed more done than The Thing I Said I Wanted — but he also staked my eugenia. His price was reasonable for someone with the right credentials. And he did a great job.

©Cathy Curtis 2010

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