Deep in my LinkedIn Profile, in the section marked 'Additional Info – Interests' it says latterly 'anything with wheels, hulls or boots attached that goes fast.' What this really means is that I love driving cars, riding motorbikes and bicycles, sailing catamarans and downhill skiing. It’s all about the feeling of the control of motion in all its forms. Nothing remarkable about that, though, I’m the proud possessor of a Y chromosome, after all.
In order to fund this interest, I’m also forced to be a resident of the crowded metropolis that is London. That fact alone is a bit of a dampener on how much fun you can actually have regularly chasing any of these pursuits without incurring profound physical or fiscal damage. This is certainly true as far as car ownership is concerned and, in particular, certain sorts of cars. This is the point where I have to fess up to conforming to a middle aged tech-industry stereotype – I’ve been a Porsche 911 owner since the end of the last century. There, I’ve said it.
But much as I’ve loved the iconic - as Jeremy Clarkson would put it - `overgrown Beetle` it’s a tool ill-suited to the reality of my life which these days, far from the endless trips of yore tearing up and down the M4, is spent in the City, around central London corporate and technology PR firms or in a cab to Heathrow to exit the country. Frankly, these days, too if it’s a choice between flogging down the motorway and jumping on a train, train wins hands down.
Unlike our ever-dependable VW diesel people carrier/builder’s truck/mobile Augean stables, the Porker is also a thing that presents you with a 4-figure bill every time it needs servicing or the most minor thing goes wrong. And it likes fuel – a lot. What’s more, when out-and-about every baseball-capped dodgily-tonsured boy racer in a pimped-out Honda Civic Type R or Citroen Saxo wants to beat you away from the lights. You also get the distinct, and ultimately very tiresome, impression that everyone else on the road hates you for myriad reasons and is just looking for an opportunity to show it.
Thus a law of diminishing returns had begun to define my relationship with Stuttgart’s finest hardware. And then there is the Porsche dealer network. It appears it is so used to dealing with the latest toy-owning uber-rich or grossly overpaid thick young men who kick footballs and their even denser perma-tanned and false-eyelashed wives and girlfriends that it thinks it can away with and attitude and service that would shame a scrapyard. I’ve seen a lot less bullshit in the sheds on my stepfather’s dairy farm.
So been there, seen that, done it. It was time for a change. But to what? A trawl round the usual (mostly German) suspects revealed the same sorry tale. A veneer-thin trained-to-the-hilt impression of competence in luxurious premium-marque dealerships that disappeared instantly, replaced by a gormless expression and chippy attitude the moment the `sales consultant’s` ignorance about the product they were supposed to be unloading was exposed.
All prospects of lifetime relationships on which the industry now makes its money destroyed in a moment of stupidity. No amount of being called `sir', tarted-up leather-seated reception areas and passable coffee can replace the added value that comes with knowledge about what is being sold. Increasingly, as products get harder to tell apart it’s the people, their relationship building and attention to detail that form the crucial part of the whole product. Anything less and you are only selling part and who wants to buy unfinished goods?
Having decided I still needed a quick and less-than-dull vehicle, it just had to be smaller, I chanced upon a MINI show room. I’d previously avoided these sometimes cutesy and sometimes remarkably ugly by virtue of endless brand extension retromobiles given that: they are two-a-penny in my neck of the woods; are driven by the world’s most despicable estate agency chain and are occasionally seen in pink. Thank God, I thought, for the popularity of Fiat 500s and Smart cars as at least they make the basic MINIs look positively butch.
Having convinced myself that the original classless, genderless marque that defined the word `nippy` could be for me, I took the plunge. From the moment I entered the small corner of the BMW Empire, I was in a different automotive world. The shock of the same call handling efficiency, uniform language used and promises delivered without fail caught me off guard.
Dealing with me like a grown-up who might know what he was talking about delivered no matter ultimately where the dealership was located or who owned it was truly a revelation. Rather than just talking about lifetime relationships MINI has actually done something concrete about it so much so I might consider such a bond. Residual values, for instance, are ensured by inexpensive prepaid servicing packages that mean the vehicles return to the authorised dealerships regularly and relationships are not soured by the sound of air being sucked through teeth and huge surprise bills. Indeed, MINI is confident enough of the quality of its service system to display on their dealer website home pages their customer feedback ratings.
The experience hasn’t been without its faults, but as Pimlico Plumbers’ founder Charlie Mullins is fond of remarking, one of the reasons for the success of his firm may not be that they are particularly good - it’s just that their competition is so bad. In that respect, the MINI organisation definitely counts at least as the one-and- a-half-eyed man in the kingdom of the vehicular blind.
But MINI and certainly the industry still needs to improve. Online retailers are already streets ahead with seeking feedback and interaction, keeping customers informed of the status every inch of the way and realising that customers too are part of the whole product and their opinions and suggestion should not only be listened to, but acted upon.
So what’s all this got to do with public relations and communications? As businesses and consumers are ever more enabled by digital and social media they can quickly build or equally easily destroy your brand’s reputation. In a communication-rich world, your customers will soon tell others if you do or don’t meet their expectations. So in building a business you have a choice. You can work to create an army of loyal advocates or create individuals with a visceral hatred of all that you represent who will take very opportunity to help put you out of business.
Western car manufacturers were taught a tough lesson originally by the Japanese that quality is not something you add on like a sticking plaster it’s something you build in. The same is true of marketing, communications and public relations.
Everything communicates and contributes to the whole product, particularly now as the real and virtual world merge and value comes from the combination of the product itself and the service that surrounds it. How you do something counts as much as what you do. People buy an experience and the nuts and bolts of the discrete product or service are only part of delivering it.
On that subject, for year now I’ve been the proud and pretty contented owner of a very manly grey and black MINI John Cooper Works, with more trimmings than Christmas dinner and a service plan to match - all secured ever-so-slightly-used at a bargain price from some very nice people at Sytner MINI Sheffield. Did I mention it they are very nice people? Oh yes they are, very nice indeed.
But much as I’ve loved the iconic - as Jeremy Clarkson would put it - `overgrown Beetle` it’s a tool ill-suited to the reality of my life which these days, far from the endless trips of yore tearing up and down the M4, is spent in the City, around central London corporate and technology PR firms or in a cab to Heathrow to exit the country. Frankly, these days, too if it’s a choice between flogging down the motorway and jumping on a train, train wins hands down.
Unlike our ever-dependable VW diesel people carrier/builder’s truck/mobile Augean stables, the Porker is also a thing that presents you with a 4-figure bill every time it needs servicing or the most minor thing goes wrong. And it likes fuel – a lot. What’s more, when out-and-about every baseball-capped dodgily-tonsured boy racer in a pimped-out Honda Civic Type R or Citroen Saxo wants to beat you away from the lights. You also get the distinct, and ultimately very tiresome, impression that everyone else on the road hates you for myriad reasons and is just looking for an opportunity to show it.
Thus a law of diminishing returns had begun to define my relationship with Stuttgart’s finest hardware. And then there is the Porsche dealer network. It appears it is so used to dealing with the latest toy-owning uber-rich or grossly overpaid thick young men who kick footballs and their even denser perma-tanned and false-eyelashed wives and girlfriends that it thinks it can away with and attitude and service that would shame a scrapyard. I’ve seen a lot less bullshit in the sheds on my stepfather’s dairy farm.
So been there, seen that, done it. It was time for a change. But to what? A trawl round the usual (mostly German) suspects revealed the same sorry tale. A veneer-thin trained-to-the-hilt impression of competence in luxurious premium-marque dealerships that disappeared instantly, replaced by a gormless expression and chippy attitude the moment the `sales consultant’s` ignorance about the product they were supposed to be unloading was exposed.
All prospects of lifetime relationships on which the industry now makes its money destroyed in a moment of stupidity. No amount of being called `sir', tarted-up leather-seated reception areas and passable coffee can replace the added value that comes with knowledge about what is being sold. Increasingly, as products get harder to tell apart it’s the people, their relationship building and attention to detail that form the crucial part of the whole product. Anything less and you are only selling part and who wants to buy unfinished goods?
Having decided I still needed a quick and less-than-dull vehicle, it just had to be smaller, I chanced upon a MINI show room. I’d previously avoided these sometimes cutesy and sometimes remarkably ugly by virtue of endless brand extension retromobiles given that: they are two-a-penny in my neck of the woods; are driven by the world’s most despicable estate agency chain and are occasionally seen in pink. Thank God, I thought, for the popularity of Fiat 500s and Smart cars as at least they make the basic MINIs look positively butch.
Having convinced myself that the original classless, genderless marque that defined the word `nippy` could be for me, I took the plunge. From the moment I entered the small corner of the BMW Empire, I was in a different automotive world. The shock of the same call handling efficiency, uniform language used and promises delivered without fail caught me off guard.
Dealing with me like a grown-up who might know what he was talking about delivered no matter ultimately where the dealership was located or who owned it was truly a revelation. Rather than just talking about lifetime relationships MINI has actually done something concrete about it so much so I might consider such a bond. Residual values, for instance, are ensured by inexpensive prepaid servicing packages that mean the vehicles return to the authorised dealerships regularly and relationships are not soured by the sound of air being sucked through teeth and huge surprise bills. Indeed, MINI is confident enough of the quality of its service system to display on their dealer website home pages their customer feedback ratings.
The experience hasn’t been without its faults, but as Pimlico Plumbers’ founder Charlie Mullins is fond of remarking, one of the reasons for the success of his firm may not be that they are particularly good - it’s just that their competition is so bad. In that respect, the MINI organisation definitely counts at least as the one-and- a-half-eyed man in the kingdom of the vehicular blind.
But MINI and certainly the industry still needs to improve. Online retailers are already streets ahead with seeking feedback and interaction, keeping customers informed of the status every inch of the way and realising that customers too are part of the whole product and their opinions and suggestion should not only be listened to, but acted upon.
So what’s all this got to do with public relations and communications? As businesses and consumers are ever more enabled by digital and social media they can quickly build or equally easily destroy your brand’s reputation. In a communication-rich world, your customers will soon tell others if you do or don’t meet their expectations. So in building a business you have a choice. You can work to create an army of loyal advocates or create individuals with a visceral hatred of all that you represent who will take very opportunity to help put you out of business.
Western car manufacturers were taught a tough lesson originally by the Japanese that quality is not something you add on like a sticking plaster it’s something you build in. The same is true of marketing, communications and public relations.
Everything communicates and contributes to the whole product, particularly now as the real and virtual world merge and value comes from the combination of the product itself and the service that surrounds it. How you do something counts as much as what you do. People buy an experience and the nuts and bolts of the discrete product or service are only part of delivering it.
On that subject, for year now I’ve been the proud and pretty contented owner of a very manly grey and black MINI John Cooper Works, with more trimmings than Christmas dinner and a service plan to match - all secured ever-so-slightly-used at a bargain price from some very nice people at Sytner MINI Sheffield. Did I mention it they are very nice people? Oh yes they are, very nice indeed.
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