Passion, dedication and care: branding inspiration (page 1 of 2)

At least, from one part of the Far East, which is as culturally diverse as Europe's thirty-plus countries are, and as varied as the cultures of North America's states.

For western brands that are about to hit any part of Asia, you need a culturally aware brand strategy to avoid a negative response to the culture shock you and your brand might experience. Even if you have no plans to enter Asian markets, There's lots to learn from comparing culturally-derived attitudes which all have lessons for brands and business.

For example, let's look at sake, Japan's traditional rice wine. When you're in Japan, you'll observe a gesture that's typical in the hospitality of the country. It's a gesture that has relevance to branding and business in general. The eggcup-sized sake cup will be placed in front of you, sitting in a receptacle of some kind - an elegant cherrywood box, an everyday saucer. When your host or companion pours your sake the cup will be filled to overflowing, the receptacle it sits in receiving the overflow and itself being filled to the brim. This overserving expresses the generosity of the host, restaurant or bar. It's a gesture to show gratitude for your presence. And it exhibits a desire to give you more that you expect. You'll agree that this vignette opens vistas of meaning - brands must over-deliver and exceed customer expectations. Yet, so often, brands simply meet expectations. I'll never forget my first sake. Such gestures of abundance, hospitality and respect will be associated by your customers with your brand, creating an invaluable emotional tie between them.

Another lesson I've learnt from Japan occurred when I was visiting a picturesque little village near Kyoto, in the beautiful Kansai region. I had ordered some handcrafted knives and was told that the finishing process would take approximately half-an-hour. So, I left the store and explored the village, bathed in the rosy glow cast by the springtime cherry blossoms. I returned to the knife maker exactly half-an-hour later. To my surprise, and contrary to my previous experience of Japanese punctuality and exactitude, the knives were not ready. Two men were still hard at work on them and remained so for fifteen minutes longer than expected. I decide to wait and observe these craftsmen in action. In the western world, I wouldn't have been too surprised to see the men expressing irritation at the extra work time. Here, though, the men's demeanors expressed passion, exquisite care, and tireless professionalism invested in every manouevre that produced the amazing tools. These knives were unique pieces, the antithesis of a tool I'd collect at random from WallMart. Later I realized that my wait was not unexpected. This observation time was built into the transaction as part of the handover process from vendor to buyer. The intential fifteen minute interval was an exercise in demonstrative dedication, to show me the care that went into my knives. Again, this is a memory I will have for life. It has made those knives into a whole story of dedication to a product.

In the world of branding, such passion tends to disappear along with the founder's resignation. I'm sure there is a ton of passion behind the scenes when ordering a book on Amazon.com or any other online retailer. But online buying has translated the customer-retailer relationship into one of collusive silence and distance. An that distance, between me and the brands I buy, is widening. When I receive emails from Amazon, they're from the "customer service team". If an individual's name appears in front of this retailer's sealed membrane, it disappears quickly again, severing the promise of a sense of real connection.

I'm not saying that we should let customers wait for service.