Jul 19

There’s always a sense of excitement when we drive into a town and find a vibrant and diverse community filled with people and beautiful, occupied storefronts. Too frequently, though, we find the opposite: no people and empty, decrepit storefronts. We then comment, “Geez, this town has seen better days.” And we drive right through, unlikely to return. It’s too bad because with vibrant towns, we stop, get out, open our wallets and keep going back.

The root causes of town distress can fill many, many books, but I’ll generalize: empty storefronts signal something is wrong. In some cases, the causes are macro and out of the control of the town or business owners. Examples include cyclical economic downturns, commerce redirection because of new highways and shopping centers, or broad changes to the industrial or manufacturing base. In the sixties, we tried to counter these macro issues with urban renewal, which yielded questionable results.

Empty Storefront by George Cannon

In other cases, empty storefronts are a result of micro conditions because business owners fail to adapt. Why?

  • They lose the concept of customer service
  • They underestimate the need to market themselves
  • They shun advances in technology
  • They don’t collaborate with each other

These are self-inflicted wounds that happen more frequently than they should. It’s a shame. The core issue is that we shouldn’t be seeing so many empty storefronts, at least not the ones that can be controlled. It’s bad for the towns, the business owners, and the customers. People want to get out of their cars when they drive into a town; they want to stroll the streets; and they want to spend their money. Over the coming months, I’ll examine each of these issues, with the goal of providing some guidance on what small businesses can do in our evolving world. Perhaps the towns or chambers of commerce can take a cue as well.

Rob Ciampa

Photo Credit: George Cannon

Jan 30

Brand Equity is a House of CardsAs marketers and business leaders, we spend years, if not a lifetime, cultivating our brands. They define who we are and generate an annuity of business and goodwill for decades. That annuity helps grow the value our brand equity. Our customers, by purchase and by proxy, derive benefit from our brands. Go walk into a Starbucks. Who is there? Why are they there? What are they drinking? What computers are they using? What are they wearing? What are they reading? It’s all brand. Marketing 101.

So if brand is so important, why are we seeing some of the strongest ones tumble? Because brands are incredibly fragile. Just look at Tiger Woods and Toyota as recent examples. The fallout is not just to the brand-owners but to those who derive ancillary benefit. Tiger Woods’ sponsors are leaving because the brand actually has negative value and it impacts them. Personally, I love watching Tiger play and I enjoy hopping into my Toyota SUV and driving through the New England snow. I’m disheartened by both recent events.

The brand equity ascent is slow and arduous; the descent is fast and dangerous. Paraphrasing a former business partner of mine:

If you’re not careful, you can go from a hero to a has-been in heartbeat.

How true. Is it more challenging these days to protect a brand? Absolutely. The velocity of communications and the acceleration effects of social media leave little time to react.  And remember: bad news is like gasoline and good news is like water – all it takes is one strike of a match.

Is there a cure? Not entirely, but integrity sure goes a long way. Not just integrity from the start (Tiger Woods) but also integrity when dealing with and addressing problems as they arise (Toyota). We’ll see how they (and many others) try to regain their brand equity. Much, however, depends on whether those of us who benefit will remain loyal.

Rob Ciampa

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Nov 19
Jackson Cannon - Boston Phoenix

Jackson Cannon - Eastern Standard

Many years ago, like many young boys from my neighborhood, I went to work at a famed Italian restaurant in Boston’s ethnic North End called “The European.” Even as a street savvy fifteen-year-old kid from nearby Medford, MA, I was somewhat unprepared for the world of the restaurant business, both on the floor and in the kitchen. Anthony Bourdain dutifully captures some of this restaurant lifestyle in his bestseller Kitchen Confidential. Little did I realize, though, what a positive, lifelong effect my time there would have on me, especially when it came to understanding and embracing the concept of great service.

Over time, I worked my way up from bussing tables, to managing the wine cellar, to working the kitchen and ultimately to waiting on tables. In the last position, I was fortunate to have had some great mentors who introduced me to the concept of great service. Chuck, our eccentric, tuxedoed maître d’ made it simple. “Bobby,” he said, “always think like a customer, intimately know what’s on the menu, and be passionate about what you do.” Simple advice, profound results. Chuck had me study the menu, the wine list, and trained me on the finer elements of French and Russian service. I loved it. The European wasn’t high-brow, but for some parties we could really pour it on and deliver an incredible experience. In time, great service came naturally, as did the rewards, both psychologically and financially. My job was enjoyable and rewarding, complemented by a stream of “regulars,” customers I knew by name and who knew me, always requesting a seat at one of my tables.

I continually find myself in search of great service and looking for those with an evangelical zeal about it. Recently, I decided to take a course in early American mixology at Boston University’s Culinary Arts School. (I’m enamored by culinary history.) The course was taught by Jackson Cannon and Bobby McCoy, famed bartenders at Boston’s Eastern Standard restaurant. For those of you who don’t know Eastern Standard, it has one of best bars in Boston, if not the U.S. Why the fame? It’s simple. The bar team at Eastern Standard gives great service: they are customer-focused; know their product; and are passionate about what they do. It doesn’t matter whether you’re serving food, mixing drinks or – in my case -delivering technology products around the world, the recipe for great service remains the same.

Rob Ciampa

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