Remembering the Future

Sometime in the early seventies, I discovered a stash of old comic books in my grandparents' house in Flushing, New York. 

They were all circa 1954-1955, mostly science fiction-themed, and formerly (though in hindsight, still) the property of my Uncle Doug, who at the time was serving as a medical officer in the U.S. Air Force in Austin, Texas. 

But my grandmother said to take them. And take them, I did. To a guy who came to our local library, showed a few episodes of "Star Trek," and offered to buy everyone's old comic books for cash. 

God knows how little I got for them. And how much they'd have fetched today. 

The one I remember best took place on Mars in the distant future of 1974. Men and women in fashionable tights used laser weapons to fight off the various indigenous reptilian creatures that were always trying to make a meal of them. 

Imagine that: 1974 was the far off future. Just like Orwell's 1984. And the 2001 of the Kubrick/Arthur C. Clarke film. 

And here we are, on the eve of the 10th anniversary of 2001. 

What used to be the future is now the past. 

Nobody is using lasers to defend colonies on Mars from invading reptiles. And fortunately, not everyone is wearing fashionable tights. (Although my daughters and their friends have been known to wear a jeans/leggings hybrid called "jeggings.") 

But with the Internet and all it offers, we've certainly achieved many of the dreams of the science fiction writers of yore. And the pace of technological evolution seemingly compounds every day. 

Tomorrow, today will seem like the Iron Age. 

Here's to the future. Starting with tonight. 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

-MD

 

The Night Before Christmas, v2010

I read an interesting article about how today's kids use various online social media tools to track Santa's location with the help of NORAD (the North American Aerospace Defense Command). With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore, I felt compelled to rework his classic poem for the times:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, just Junior’s mouse;

The kid was on the PC, surfing Facebook with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The others were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

He picked up his iPhone, and opened an app,

Up on his screen appeared a new Google Map;

He searched around Twitter, to check out the chatter,

And found out that NORAD was streaming live data.

He reinstalled Windows and updated Flash,

For fear that his father’s old HP might crash.

He logged onto YouTube as it started to snow,

And widened his eyes at the cool video;

For what on his 20-inch screen should appear,

But an avatar sleigh and eight avatar reindeer,

With an avatar driver, so lively and quick,

He knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

Slower than molasses, his browser it lagged,

He slammed on the table and cursed as he tagged;

“%#^@, Dasher! &*%$#, Dancer! %$#@, Prancer and Vixen!

@$#%, Comet! %$^, Cupid! $#^@!, Donder and Blitzen!

The DSL line, it was pushed to the brink,

“It better not freeze,” Junior heard himself think;

Soon, over Paris, then above Amsterdam,

As seen by millions, on the live Santa cam;
Eight tiny reindeer, a sleigh and a man;

Now up on the roof, the sound of a sled,

Getting snagged in the cable,

As the connection goes dead.

-MD

 

Can We Cut the Cord on Our Wireless Phones?

I often jokingly tell people that my BlackBerry is my second brain and losing it would be like losing my mind. Now I know it is no joke. And I am not alone.

“My Device, Myself,” is the caption beneath a photograph in a New York Times article by Damon Darlin, entitled, “Digital Devices Can Become Objects of Affection.”
 

According to Darlin, we love our devices because they make us better and smarter. I know that this is the case with me. Once, I even pulled out my BlackBerry in the midst of an interview to get the name of a mutual acquaintance (PS: don’t try this, I didn’t get the job. I think they were looking for someone whose primary brain worked better.) According to the article, people literally, “grieve when they lose a personal electronic device.”
 

This “device as self” phenomenon isn’t some little wave cresting but a full-blown tsunami. In fact, one of the key lessons that NYT Tech writer David Pogue, imparts in his recent round-up article, “The Lessons of 10 Years of Talking Tech,” is that “Some people’s gadgets determine their self-esteem.” He adds, “You can’t use the word “Apple,” “Microsoft” or “Google” in a sentence these days without stirring up emotion.”
 

Given the New York Times source, I might be tempted to think this attachment to devices is merely a bicoastal trend. But it is not just the province of the MIT students and tech workers I see glued to their mobile screens when I visit Extrovertic’s new Cambridge office. This “Tech as Self” trend is now deeply woven into the fabric of the American psyche.

Case in point: my recent visit to Milwaukee for the “International City/County Managers Association” annual conference-planning meeting (I know, I know, my life is really too glamorous, I really need to join FourSquare so people can track me).

As an icebreaker at the conference, city managers from around the country were asked to “pick something in your hotel room that says something special about you.” About 50% of the respondents picked a personal digital device. Comments ran something like, “my iPod, which I use when I go running,” “my iPhone, which has pictures of my kids,” and, “my BlackBerry because I can use it to reach anybody, anytime.”

And these weren’t typical coastal hipsters we are talking about. Most of the participants were men in their 40s, from cities that make Milwaukee, Wisconsin seem like a mega metropolis: Brentwood, Tennessee; Coon Rapids, Minnesota; and Sequin, Texas.

The point is tech is defining and intensely personal – and therefore of great interest to marketers as seen by the mushrooming numbers of them lining up for mobile device healthcare conferences. After all, healthcare is intensely personal too. It makes perfect sense to think about sending health messages via mobile devices. However, as we move into this new mobile era, we should remember we are entering someone’s personal space.

Otherwise, we will suffer the fate of Aaron, the “close talker” from the classic Seinfeld episode: the very people we are trying to attract will back away.

Or worse yet, give you a social media slap in the face a la “Motrin Moms.” 

–DW

 

Customer Service In the Age of Twitter

Earlier this month, Mashable announced its 5 Nominees For Best Social Media Customer Service.

It got me to thinking about how important customer service is in today's transformational marketplace.

We live in a world where user experience is everything. It isn't enough for the product to be great. Every touch point connected with it has to be great, as well.

It's no longer enough to sell the benefits of the product. Every contact with the brand must add value that syncs with the brand's personality and literally helps the consumer to experience a transformation for the better.

This goal must be imbued in every channel – from print, TV and point of sale, to online.

The digital realm, of course, is the easiest in which to have a meaningful, real time dialogue with the consumer. Twitter and and social networks like Facebook are particularly useful for demonstrating a brand's commitment to providing beyond the expected levels of customer service.

Take the two examples shown here. HP (at top) has technical support people available on Twitter. They proactively provide proof of their interest in customer satisfaction.

ZocDoc (above), a service that helps patients find doctors and make appointments in the same step, uses Twitter to show empathy for their customers and, in the process, gives the brand a much needed human face.

Check out Mashable's finalists. They have some good ideas about how to use new technology to provide better service to their customers. But there are a  many others out there, too. Some that already exist, and some still waiting to be discovered. 


We'd love to hear any examples you have.


-MD