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Buy With the Heart, Justify With the Brain

People buy with the heart, and justify their decision with the brain.

I’m not the only one to make that claim (for another, try Jeffrey Gitomer).

People in “sophisticated” businesses—information technology, Wall Street, law, accounting, consulting—tend not to believe it.  They think business people make business buying decisions in a rational, deductive, linear, data-based, cost-benefits kind of a process.

These people are sellers and buyers of sophisticated sales management and sales training systems.  Their models are variations on “consult with a customer to find a need, get the customer to articulate it, package a solution, and show the customer how the solution fills the need.”

Fine, except it assumes:

a. The buyer can articulate the need
b. The buyer is willing to articulate the need.

Frequently, neither is true.  I recall (can someone help me out on this?) a study of relocations of corporate headquarters, identifying how many moved the HQ closer to the chairman’s home, vs. how many moved it further away.  Care to guess the outcome?

Educated people in powerful businesses (oil, investment banking, capital equipment) will generally tell you they make decisions based on the rational model described above.

Here is a delightful counter-example from a few years ago about an oil industry executive, making an important personal purchase decision—how to select a high-end, bespoke English tailor, courtesy of Thomas Mahon’s blog English Cut:

It’s funny how things from the past can do two things- (A) come back and haunt you, or (B) come back and help you.

Last week I measured up a new customer, who has a senior position with one of the largest and most successful oil companies in the world. He was a very charming fellow who only knew about me through reading English Cut.

He chose me not just because he felt I could give him true bespoke (which I certainly hope I can), but the deciding factor was that he is originally a Cumberland native, like myself. So that put his mind at rest. People go with who they know.

As we were discussing the final cloth choices on his two suits, we stood by the window looking out onto sunlit Savile Row and Anderson & Sheppard’s old premises. When my customer told me which line of business he was in, I remarked that when I as working at A&S I used to cut for the chairman of his company, in other words, his boss.

He than stood back in astonishment. I didn’t know if this meant he thought his boss was the best dressed man on the planet, or the worst, so I was fairly nervous there for a moment.

But then he told me the story. When he first started working with the chairman several years ago, he was in a business meeting on a private jet somewhere over the Atlantic. When my customer had finished discussing some business details, the chairman leaned over the table, took off his glasses and said, referring to his accent, “You sound just like my tailor.”

So be nice to everybody. You never know who may be talking about you.

The customer’s original “deciding factor” was the geographic origin of the tailor—a connection with his own.

The punch line, from which we conclude the tailor had a customer for life, was that the customer’s boss had also hired the tailor.

You come from my part of the world, and my boss uses you.  Sold.

Lesson 1. You won’t find that one in a standard sales process model.

Lesson 2. You can’t build that one into a standard sales process model.

Lesson 3. What you can do is what Aristotle pointed out: character is a habit.  Be nice, competent and of service to everyone—as a habit.  Then when the uncontrollable comes around, you’ve got a reference.

Selling to the Primal Instinct in All of Us

If you’re in sales, this blogpost is for you.

If you have a toddler at home, ditto.

And if you’re a toddler parent who sells for a living, you just hit the jackpot. Listen up.

I recently wrote an article on selling called The Point of Listening is Not What You Hear, But the Listening Itself.  (Or, read the shorter, blog version).

The title pretty much says it. A lot of sales programs focus on listening for content; but unless the customer feels heard, all you’ve done is a brain-suck, and that feels invasive to the customer.

That idea won’t be new to some salespeople, or to afficionados of communications theory.  But I had no idea how firmly based it is in develomental history.

From the NYTimes Feb. 7, we have “Coping with the Caveman in the Crib.” 
 

If there is such a person as a “baby whisperer,” it is the pediatrician Dr. Harvey Karp, whose uncanny ability to quiet crying babies became the best-selling book “The Happiest Baby on the Block.”

Dr. Karp’s method [works with] fussy babies who are quickly, almost eerily soothed by a combination of tight swaddling, loud shushing and swinging, which he says mimics the sensations of the womb.

Now Dr. Karp, assistant professor of pediatrics at the University of California, Los Angeles, has turned his attention to the toddler years…A wailing baby is nothing compared with the defiant behavior and tantrums common among toddlers.

But Dr. Karp’s method of toddler communication is not for the self-conscious. It involves bringing yourself, both mentally and physically, down to a child’s level when he or she is upset. The goal is not to give in to a child’s demands, but to communicate in a child’s own language of “toddler-ese.”

This means using short phrases with lots of repetition, and reflecting the child’s emotions in your tone and facial expressions. And, most awkward, it means repeating the very words the child is using, over and over again.

For instance, a toddler throwing a tantrum over a cookie might wail, “I want it. I want it. I want cookie now.”

Often, a parent will adopt a soothing tone saying, “No, honey, you have to wait until after dinner for a cookie.”

Such a response will, almost certainly, make matters worse. “It’s loving, logical and reasonable,” notes Dr. Karp. “And it’s infuriating to a toddler. Now they have to say it over harder and louder to get you to understand.”

Dr. Karp adopts a soothing, childlike voice to demonstrate how to respond to the toddler’s cookie demands.

“You want. You want. You want cookie. You say, ‘Cookie, now. Cookie now.’ ”

It’s hard to imagine an adult talking like this in a public place. But Dr. Karp notes that this same form of “active listening” is a method adults use all the time. The goal is not simply to repeat words but to make it clear that you hear someone’s complaint.  “If you were upset and fuming mad, I might say, ‘I know. I know. I know. I get it. I’m really really sorry. I’m sorry.’ That sounds like gibberish out of context,” he says.

On his DVD, Dr. Karp demonstrates the method. Within seconds, teary-eyed toddlers calm and look at him quizzically as he repeats their concerns back at them.

“The goal is not simply to repeat words, but to make it clear that you hear someone’s complaint.”

The point of listening is not what you hear, but the act of listening itself. Or, to be more correct, the result of that act, namely the customer’s experience of being heard.

Sometimes what works on kids also works on adults.  Sometimes not.  My tummy tells me this is the former.

And it’s basic. Primal.  It’s about empathy, not about exchange of cognitive information.

Don’t listen to do a brain-suck. Listen so the customer (or your toddler) feels heard.

And to all you salesperson/parents out there—you’re welcome.  Wish I’d’a knew it!

Lying to Get the Sale

Suzanne Lowe, at The Expertise Marketplace, has a provocative post titled I Told the Truth—and Got Hired Anyway.

Briefly, she faced two sales situations in which she knew she’d be asked the inevitable question: what experience do you have working in our business?

The truthful answer boiled down to, “none at all.”  Since we all know this is the “wrong” answer, it took a certain amount of courage for Suzanne to speak the truth, and even more courage to then avoid rushing into the silence to list the dozens of reasons why she was nonetheless the best for the job, etc.

The punch line in Suzanne’s posting was, of course, that she got the job. And she asked her readers to help explain why.

Now, what I find curious is not the fact that she got the job—but her readers’ explanations for it.

To me, the reason she got the job seemed transparently clear, almost self-evident.  She got the job because she immediately proved she was honest, transparent, truthful—and those personal characteristics in this case outweighed the importance of industry experience—as they frequently, though not always, do.

Yet to my surprise other commenters had different explanations.  Their explanations included:

• Maybe the client saw the greater relevance of her experience in other industries
• This may be the rare client who is not risk-averse
• Maybe lack of industry knowledge meant no bias, hence an open mind—ignorance here is a plus
• Maybe her integrity helped feed a broader sense of chemistry about her

My first reaction to these other reasons (I’m trying to be honest here), was one of disbelief.   It’s always shocking to me when other people don’t see things precisely the way I do.  ("How could these people not see"…."Why don’t they understand…"). 

I mean, don’t you know who I think I am?

Yet, I know some of these commenters. They are bright, experienced, knowledgeable people.

Unfortunately, this means I am denied access to my preferred, first-blush, gut-instinct explanation for why they might disagree with me, namely they’re ignorant fools. (“Damn; I have to take these opinions seriously.”)

So, I have two questions for this audience.

1. What do you make of Suzanne’s tale; why do you think her clients in each case bought her services despite her lack of industry credentials?

2. What do you make of my being shocked at the other answers? What’s your first reaction when you find out someone has a different reaction to something you felt was obvious? And what do you do about it?

Carnival of Trust for February is Up

Carnival of TrustThe February 2008 Carnival of Trust is now online, hosted by Michelle Golden and her blog Golden Practices.

Each month, the (rotating) host selects the Top Ten trust-related blog postings from across the web during the prior month. Subject areas include Advising and Influencing, Sales and Marketing, Leadership and Management, and Strategy, Economics and Policy.

I want to say pointedly how great this Carnival thing is.  Maybe you never heard the word "carnival" applied to blogs before.  All it means is a compilation of other blogs.

But as with all things internet-related—there are compilations, and there are compilations.  If you like casually searching the web for interesting stuff, the best click you can make is onto a really good Carnival.  And here’s why this one is turning out so well.

First, we limit the posts to 10.  This is the Top 10 list, the very best of the blogosphere, for anything vaguely related to trust last month.

Second, we get great hosts.  It’s not me that picks the Top 10, it’s the fine people who bring their own special expertise—marketing, consulting, intellectual property, selling, communications—and apply that expertise to the selection.

Third, those great hosts have a Point of View.  They add zing and zest and perspective to the already-good material they’ve selected.

Think of reading the Carnival of Trust as like skimming the NYTimes Book Review, if you like that; or the category leaders in Amazon; or some kind of Google-scanning with mind-reading software that filters out everything but what is Really Great for You and You Alone (if you like trust, that is).

If you can’t tell, I’m excited about the way the Carnival of Trust has been evolving.  Do yourself a favor and pop over to the carnival, hosted by Michell Golden this month,  and treat yourself to a good quick  read.

Conversations with a Spambot

You know about spam. Though unless you write a blog, you may not know that spam also affects blogs.]

Automated “spambots” search out blogs for key names, then enter a “comment.”

Some bloggers don’t allow comments, in part because of the hassle of constantly cleaning out their comment lists. I eliminated one entire posting called “seductive statistics,” because the title was attracting on average two fake postings a day, day in and day out. It takes time to clean the stables.

Last June I posted a piece called Trust, Politics and US Healthcare Policy. Probably because of the word “healthcare,” it occasionally attracts spam. As it did yesterday.

Every once in a while, this stuff just pisses me off. This time, I clicked on the spammer’s link, and found a “click here for online customer service.”

So I did.

Here’s the resultant dialogue. Hang on for the punch line.
 

You are now speaking with Daphne of Customer Service.

Charles Green: Why do you use spambot advertising?

Charles Green: You’re filling up my blog comments page.

Daphne: Hello, this is Daphne of Online Customer Care. How may I assist you?

Charles Green: It is annoying, time consuming, and very tasteless

Charles Green: Whoever there makes the decision to send spam to people’s blogs should be made aware of what a boorish, tasteless form of business they are engaging in

Charles Green: Daphne, please pass on the message

Charles Green: Just so you know what I’m talking about, I publish a serious blog about business. One of my postings was about "Trust, Politics and US Healthcare Policy." And what do I get as a comment? A spambot advertisement from you people. Daphne do you feel good personally working for people who decide to use such slimeball tactics? I can’t imagine you do.

Charles Green: Do you like getting robo-calls at dinnertime from mortgage companies? That’s exactly what you folks are doing to me.

Daphne: We are a legitimate company and we operate in compliance with existing federal laws, all medicines provided are obtained from legitimate pharmaceutical wholesalers, or in some cases directly from the US manufacturer. Rest assured our company is committed to meeting and exceeding all government regulations covering this online health care provision.

Charles Green: Daphne don’t give me that "comply with government regulations" crap. That just says what you do hasn’t been made illegal. That doesn’t mean it isn’t disgusting, vile and will eventually be made illegal if enough scumbuckets like your company don’t behave like responsible marketers.

Daphne: Charles, I do apologize for this inconvenience. We are customer support here and we only handle customer related issues.

Charles Green: Daphne, it’s not personal. I know it’s not you doing it, and you have no need to apologize. But please know what it’s doing to your reputation, and pass it on.

Daphne: Charles, we are customer support team for many online companies. Please be so kind and be more specific in order for us to be able to assist you.

Charles Green: Are you kidding? Tramadolhd.com is the one I’m responding to. They send out spambots to legitimate blogs like mine, doing the equivalent of junk mail and email spam. It’s disgusting. That’s what I’m complaining about. Pass it on please to those folks.

Daphne: Charles, You want to be unsubscribed right? May I have your email address, please?

Aristotle, Maister, and the Fat Smoker

David Maister has a new book out—Strategy and the Fat Smoker.

The title is personal—David once was heavy and smoked. And used both facts to explain something to his clients.

It was that people don’t change by being told why they should.

Alcoholics, smokers and foodies are not stupid. Nor are clients. Yet stupidity is the diagnosis implicit in the advice given by many doctors—and lawyers, and consultants, and accountants, et al.

Most strategic thinking is of this type, he says. It’s all about the decision—which, as Maister points out, is not that difficult, nor does the advice vary much. Quit smoking. Be number one or two in your market. Go on a diet. Outsource what you’re not best at. Drink less; cut back on fats; exercise. Globalize; decentralize; collaborate.

But talk is cheap: execution is rare. Brilliant strategies un-executed are worth less than the bytes they’re stored on. We tend to think that because we’ve thought something out, the hard work is done. Of course, it’s not.

Why is this? Because firms— like fat smokers—avoid the tough work of real strategy execution.

Maister works in professional services—but the issue he raises is universal.

He’s touching on the philosophic issue of moral weakness, called (confusingly to the modern audience) incontinence. The Greek term is akrasia.

Basically:

How can it be that someone can know the right thing, be capable of doing it and free to do it, even want to do it—and yet not do it?

The problem goes back to Aristotle and Plato. Read Duncan Davidson for more, but—crudely summarized—here’s the ancients’ views:

Aristotle basically says the problem doesn’t really exist. “Man thinks, and forthwith he acts,” is how he puts it.

So, if you didn’t do something you thought was right, it’s either because you really weren’t capable of or free to do what was right—or because you frankly didn’t want to do it. There’s no problem here, he says; an alcoholic isn’t hard to understand—either he’s addicted and therefore not free, or he just likes drinking more than not drinking—in which case, he drinks. Where’s the problem understanding that?

For Plato, the incontinent is either un-reflective, or of weak character. The fat smoker either doesn’t really understand how self-harmful he is—or he is just a moral weakling. Both are common among humans. Incontinence, says Plato, is unremarkable—it’s pretty much the human condition. (This is often the view of consultants—if only my clients were bright enough, they’d see my wisdom—and then the problem would be solved.)

Maister hews unconsciously to another philosopher—Karl Marx—who once said, “The point is not to understand the world, but to change it.” That’s Maister’s subject—how to change strategically.

Appropriately, his answers aren’t derived from theory or deduction, but from observation and reflection. And they are rich. Here are a few:

• The necessary outcome of strategic planning is not analytical insight, but resolve.

• Leaders in most organizations don’t really want to do what it takes. They are just fine with doing pretty well, and getting by. They don’t honestly, seriously, want to do what it takes to be great—though they prefer to avoid saying so.

• Emphasize the journey, not the goal. Whether it’s quitting smoking or becoming number one in the market, goal-focus makes the journey feel like punishment. But if you focus on the journey in small chunks (“just don’t drink today,” “just don’t lie to a client”), then progress can be felt and appreciated.

• Stop talking the language of destinations—it allows hiding out, fudging, and is intimidating. Instead, talk the language of principles and behaviors.

• Principles are more effective than tactics. Managers who get things done are those whose people believe their leaders believe in something.

• Motivation must be intrinsic, not extrinsic. The biggest barrier to change is the feeling that “it’s OK so far.”

• Strategy means saying “no.” Strategy execution is defined better by what you won’t do than what you will do—and then really not doing it. At all.

• There is a hierarchy of integrating concepts, roughly from purpose and mission, to vision and direction, to values and principles, and then to rules of behavior. All are required, and in roughly that sequence.

Maister goes on to explain that successful sellers, managers and leaders do not succumb to a reductionist view of the world, focusing on processes, data, systems and rewards, but instead are engaged—personally, deeply, in a genuine way—with the people they relate to.

And, he’s got data to prove it. He’s not at all saying “nice guys” finish first; he’s saying you can’t do business by the numbers alone. Business, done right, is a contact sport. It’s about relationships—mutual ones, honest ones. And very much about trust.

All his career, Maister has been fond of saying he’s not preaching morality, just practicalities. In this book, however, he comes close to squaring the circle, and says as much:

People who are acting on principle are much more likely to get done what they say they will do than will those who are doing those things solely in pursuit of future rewards…Whether people know your principles and trust you is a major determinant of how they are going to respond to you…The most effective organizations are those that are held together by shared and enforced principles, values and standards.

In the end, Maister touches both Plato and Aristotle. If you fail to execute your goals, in a sense it really is because you didn’t want them enough (Aristotle). And those who really are willing to do the hard work of living by principles are relatively few (Plato).

Most firms (and people) are in the broad middle: going through the moves, faking it with analyses and business processes, and telling ourselves “it’s OK so far.”

One thing’s clear: it’s a choice, and the choice not to choose is a choice as well.

 

(Full disclosure: Maister was my co-author, along with Rob Galford, of The Trusted Advisor, Free Press, 2000).

When Incentives Backfire

In business, certain ideas have come to be treated as received wisdom.

One of them is “align goals and incentives.”

It sounds dirt-simple. If you want to encourage or incent people to do certain things rather than other things, then align their incentives with those things. Reward them for doing the desirable, punish (or do not reward) for doing the undesirable.

Praise the child for helping, discipline the child for misbehaving. Say “bad dog” for jumping on the sofa, say “good dog” and give a treat for heeling.

Increase the commission on the profitable product, decrease it on the lower-margin ones. Give the CEO stock options to incent him or her to increase the stock price. And so forth.

But this idea has an exploding-cigar component to it. In fact, it can be downright destructive.

In the recent Republican Presidential debates, one candidate suggested, with an “ain’t it obvious” kind of tone, that part of the answer to the US health care problem is to incent providers based on outcomes. We should pay doctors and insurance companies for improving people’s health, then they’ll work to improve patients’ health, thereby cutting health costs.

I mean, ain’t it obvious?

Look a little closer. It suggests that, as a doctor, the most attractive patients will be overweight smokers—because I can quickly improve their health. And I will work hard to get them to diet and quit smoking quickly, because I get paid more for showing fast results.

On one level, this is very good. It’s a form of social triage—focus on the highest improvement rates possible. Obesity and smoking are major health problems. What’s the problem?

The trade-off is e subtle shift in motivation for doctors. If everything goes through the money filter, where’s the motivation that keeps interns doing absurd things to their circadian rhythms for so long? What happens to bedside manner?

What happens to any sense of the purpose of medicine—which, since roughly Hippocrates, has been largely based on healing people? It gets replaced by the same motivation that drives MBAs to seek private equity jobs.

Not persuaded? OK, let’s move to religion.

What’s the mission of your local church, synagogue, mosque? Probably some form of “worship the lord and do good deeds.” Lets apply the incentives logic.

It suggests churches et al should do a religio-ethical baseline competency assessment before letting you join (“how many of the Ten Commandments would you say you break in an average month?”). Then measurements should be taken periodically to see how you are improving.

(I’ll just keep using “church” here as shorthand, please infer the intended political correctness).

If your minister/priest/rabbi shows good results, then his or her market value (salary) should increase.

Church by church results should be published, so that would-be members can make informed decisions about which church will give them the highest spiritual/ethical ROI on the least amount of invested time or payments.

If you’re a slow improver, then churches would be incented to dump you as an incorrigible recidivist (formerly known as “sinner”)—basically, an unprofitable case.

Consider tithing—the giving of 10% of one’s income to the religion. Let’s apply incentives. What’s in it for me? Maybe, if you tithe more, you get more back!  Sort of like frequent flyer miles, or volume discounts. If you tithe 12%, you get the superbowl tickets; 13%, the big Hawaii trip. And suppose you really demonstrate your holiness by taking a vow of poverty? Wow, that’s the big reward—a day’s free shopping at Neiman Marcus, no limits.

How about Boy Scouts helping that little old lady across the street? What’s in it for me? How much to escort you across, old lady? A nickel? What century you livin’ in?  Fuggedaboudit!

If you haven’t heard of Alfie Kohn, let me recommend him to you. Mainly a child educator theorist, he’s also written fascinatingly about the fallacy of incentives. As he puts it, “incentives work very well. They incent people to get more incentives.”

His key concept? Emphasizing extrinsic incentives—i.e. “if you do this, you’ll get that”—is responsible for destroying intrinsic incentives.

His killer example: a study of children playing. Researchers uncovered their favorite game—then offered them rewards for playing it.

The kids then lost interest in the game.

Banks Behaving Badly: Or Is It Just Me?

You know how it goes.

The phone rings. It doesn’t show a caller ID, just a number. There’s a lag between when I say “hello” and someone comes on the line.

Why don’t I hang up right then? I really don’t know. My motives are opaque to me, but probably diseased.

This time it’s BankAmerica. They tell me there’s nothing wrong, my credit card has not been compromised—but hey, you never know!

Because they care about my security, they’re going to send me a credit report—free! Which I can then examine, and send in any corrections required.

In addition, they will send me—with no obligation! –an identity theft insurance policy, to protect all my cards. And all I have to do, if I foolishly decide not to take them up on this amazing offer, is to phone them within 30 days to say no thanks.

Otherwise, of course, they’ll bill me, in simple monthly installments, renewable automatically on an annual basis.

I assume that BankAmerica (and anyone else pulling this passive-aggressive “gotcha” marketing strategy) must have a high complaint rate, as people notice that it’s an opt-out, rather than an opt-in offer, and find an unexpected bill in their statement. And I assume that they end up reversing a lot of those “misunderstandings.”

Is it just me? Or does anyone else find this tactic not only annoying, but self-defeating?

What does BankAmerica (or any other bank) gain by having its name linked to a “sales” tactic associated with old record clubs and internet porn subscriptions?

Who is the analyst in the back room at BankAmerica (or any other bank) crunching the benefit/cost ratio of insurance fee income to the cost of processing returns?

Does it occur to him to factor in the cost to the brand? The drip-drip of negative reputation? The effect on BankAmerica’s deposit accounts? Its mortgage business?

And if not, why isn’t he being fired for destroying shareholder value? Because the market honestly does know how to distinguish between companies with good customer reputations, and those with bad ones.

Then again, BankAmerica just bought up Countrywide Financial, the nation’s largest subprime mortgage borrower—because, at these prices, it was a “good deal.”

Not for B of A’s mortgage business’s reputation. Countrywide’s own reputation can’t have added to BofA’s reputation among consumers.

Does reputation matter? I’d like to think it ultimately does. Read the comments to the above ABC News link, and see how many people are down on BofA as a lender. They can vote with their feet.
And now here I am complaining about their telemarketing, letting my fingers do the walking.

What about you?

If you decide not to continue reading this wonderful blog, all you have to do is write in and comment, and there’ll be no charge whatsoever.

Otherwise, I’ll simply bill you in painless monthly installments, renewable automatically every year unless you decide to notify me otherwise, whenever you want.

Trust me!

Call for Submissions for the February Carnival of Trust

carnival of trust image

Every month the Carnival of Trust highlights ten of the best posts on trust, whether business related or not. The next carnival will be Monday February 4th. If you’ve written a post you think would be a good fit, or if you have read a post by someone else that you think would be great for the carnival I’d like to encourage you to submit it for the carnival. This month’s host is Michelle Golden of Golden Practices.

Carnival Submission Guidelines:

  1. The Deadline for submissions is midnight, Thursday, January 31st.
  2. Posts do not have to be business related. Trust in personal relationships, politics, or any other sphere of life are more than welcome, and, indeed, encouraged.

Posts can be submitted here.

If you’d like to read a sample Carnival of Trust, both the Carnival of Trust homepage lists all prior carnivals. I look forward to another excellent edition with your help.

What the Pharmaceutical Industry Must Do to Regain Trust

Pharma has been taking it on the chin for some time now.  It’s been targeted by activists, bloggers, politicians and reformers. Next to Wall Street, it’s one of today’s least trusted industries.

 
But until last week, much of the industry’s response had the flavor of, “if people only knew the whole story,” or “they just don’t appreciate the good we do.”

Fair enough, perhaps.  But no longer good enough.

Last week, the industry drew negative cover-page articles in two iconic, industry-friendly major publications.

Et tu, Advertising Age? From the trade magazine of an industry that benefits enormously from Pharma comes this tabloid-like headline:

Vytorin Ad Shame Taints Entire Marketing Industry

 

Cholesterol Drug’s Ad Campaign Turns Into PR Nightmare, Fanning Flames of Public Mistrust of DTC.

Reports that Merck & Co. and Schering-Plough Corp. kept under wraps for more than a year findings that Vytorin does not deliver results it spent more than $100 million advertising to consumers is much more than a PR disaster for the drug’s co-marketers. Coming on the heels of a New York Times story that Pfizer’s $2 billion drug Lyrica treats a condition, fibromyalgia, that a lot of doctors don’t think exists, the Vytorin news is fanning the flames of public mistrust for the $5 billion direct-to-consumer drug industry — and the ad business in general.

"The pharmas are in big trouble in terms of credibility," said brand expert Rob Frankel, who runs his own consultancy at RobFrankel.com. "They’re just above Congress and used-car salesmen."

Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.

But the topper has to be making the cover story on BusinessWeekDo Cholesterol Drugs Do Any Good?

 

Never mind the typically well-researched and well-written critique of the industry; never mind the bad press Merck and Schering-Plough got for the Vytorin data, coming on the heels of the Vioxx lawsuits; never mind the bevy of critical testimonials the article digs up.

The plain fact is, once Ad Age and BusinessWeek put you on their covers—in nakedly negative terms—it’s time for some basic re-examination.  Low trust is not a surprise to the industry—but this is a wake-up call about the failure of the industry’s response to date.

One of the major pharmaceutical firms (because it’s not likely to be PhRMA, the industry’s trade association) needs to find a voice and take a leadership role—to speak what has become obvious to the world outside Pharma, as represented by leading business publications.

The message is this: the only way to resolve the industry’s trust issues is to become trustworthy—worthy of trust.

• Trust will not be regained by “educating” the public.

• Trust will not be regained by “getting the message out.”

• Trust will not be regained by improving your PR; your PR will be improved by regaining your trust.

• Trust will not be regained by framing it as a problem of image, marketing, or perception.

• Trust will not be regained by coordinating, refining or sharpening talking points; the problem is not getting the message out—it’s listening to the market to hear the message coming in.

The good news is, there are a great number of very well-intentioned, smart people in this industry, who are deeply pained at having been demonized the way they have been.  Some are courageously beginning to face up to it.

It won’t be easy for them. Twenty years of success, blockbuster drugs, and an overdose of marketing culture erects barriers to even their good intent.

Further, any gain in trustworthiness must be broad-based.

It won’t be enough just to help sales forces become listeners, rather than shills—though that will help. It isn’t enough to wean physicians from the “consulting” and “education” fees they reap—though that will help. It isn’t enough to deal with the appearance of conflict in researchers and journals’ affiliations with pharma funding—though that will help. It isn’t enough to seek business models beyond patent-stretching, features-tweaking and disease creation—though that will surely help. 

It is an industry whose beliefs and practices have become encrusted, making its untrustworthiness opaque even to those who most sincerely would reform it.

So, what will it take?

• Courage, for one. Which does exist; there are some fine people in pharma.

• Brains, for aother. Again, pharma is blessed. The trick is to turn those brains loose; to use the courage to think boldly, examine anew.

• Transparency is required too, though even that is hampered by layers of regulation brought upon itself by the industry’s own past practices.

• But above all, the industry needs a sense of urgency.  Not just business urgency, but a personal willingness to face some  shame, or disgust, or revulsion; something that comes from the gut and says, “you know, we are better than this; we can do better than this; and I for one have had it.”

I can’t think of any industry where the trust gap between what is and what could be is larger, and where the social cost of that gap is greater. It is in society’s best interest to have a trusted pharmaceutical industry. At its best, the pharmaceutical industry saves hundreds of thousands of lives, and adds quality of life to millions.   We are paying gazillions in cost, red tape, suspicion, and lost or devalued lives because of its absence.

We should all be rooting for this industry to heal itself.

The first step is admitting you’ve got a problem.