I'm Sick of Earnestness. Aren't You?

If you’ve never read Kate Fox’s “Watching the English,” I recommend it. It’s an anthropological study of the English, explaining the linguistic, psychological and behavioural codes we tend to follow. And it turns out that if there’s one thing we English don’t like, it’s earnestness.

(If there are two things, the other is queue jumping, but that’s hardly appropriate here)

You know what I mean. That cloying, oh-so-serious, wide-eyed, heartfelt bloody bilge that has suddenly infected the way we act.

For a country that prides itself on irony, absurdism and understatement, England seems to be filled to bursting with earnest conversations, earnest newspaper columns, earnest TV shows and damply earnest people earnestly claiming that baking cake for Skeletor’s gran and a creepy Scouse uncle is the realisation of a life’s dream.

I blame the Americans.

But it wouldn’t be a problem if earnestness was solely the preserve of TV talent shows and the odd well-meaning chugger. No, the issue is that earnestness has started to infect the content that businesses inflict upon the rest of us.

It needs to stop.

Stop Being Earnest. Start Taking Some Pride.

Even the best copywriters get amendments from clients. It comes with the job. But the amendments that stick with us are the ones that baffle us to the core. My least favourite client feedback (except for the satisfied customer that only half-jokingly called me a pretentious bell-end) came from a particularly earnest client, and it single-handedly neutered the sales message we’d spent a week bringing together.

“I’m not comfortable with saying that we’re the best at what we do in our area. Can we not just say that we want our clients to be happy?”

They didn’t want to say that they were the best. This instantly brought three questions to mind.

1) Who’s a client going to pick? The best provider of the service they want, or someone who wants a hug?
2) If you aren’t yet the best, you’re striving to be the best, right? Otherwise, what’s the point? Nobody honestly wakes up in the morning thinking “I’m proud to be the most mediocre copywriter/financial adviser/bed and breakfast owner in the whole South-East Milton Keynes area!” do they?
3) Which business in the history of the world has actively wanted clients to be unhappy with their product or service?

There are only two marketing campaigns I can remember that take the “we aren’t number one” approach. The first is Avis’ “we’re number two” campaign which turns their market position into a point of pride, a declaration of intent and a call to action. They take pride in their ability and see their second place ranking as a temporary thing to be overcome by their sheer quality.

There’s a confidence in that pitch. A genuine pride in what Avis do, and an impression that you’re going to get a better service than the competition can provide. Even when they say that they want to be “nice,” they back it up with statements of quality. There’s no shame in that. In fact, it’s the reason that this campaign is so famous, so well-regarded and so effective.

Taking pride in what you do doesn’t mean misleading your clients. It doesn’t mean overstating your importance. But taking a stand and saying “we’re bloody good” is more effective than any number of limp, heartfelt promises about wanting everyone to get along.

Your Customers Aren’t Impressed By Earnestness. Try Some Charm.

The main problem with earnestness in marketing isn’t that it puts my teeth on edge. Even I’m not egotistical enough to put my opinions ahead of effectiveness. The problem is that earnestness inherently makes a conversation about you.

When you earnestly go on about your dreams and goals and heartfelt beliefs, your customer yawns into her hand and goes off to find someone who cares about her dreams, problems and desires. Someone who’ll talk to her. And charm their way right into her bank account.

You don’t need to make lofty declarations if you don’t feel comfortable. But you do need to make the conversation about your clients. They don’t care if you’re in the paperclip business because of an honest love of the wire-twisting craft, or because you’re a cynic that sees paperclips as a stepping stone to your world-spanning office supply empire. They just care that papers keep getting lost and damn it, they can’t commit to the long-term relationship that stapling implies right now.

So charm them. Show them you understand their problems. Show them that you care about the issues that they face. And that if they walk this way, their problems will all be solved thanks to a beautiful relationship with your company.

Hell, tell them that they have lovely eyes and that you know just the thing to make those baby blues even more striking. It works for makeup companies, after all.

When All Else Fails, Have a Laugh.

Even the most earnest reader of this blog should now be wavering. “Andy,” they’ll be thinking, because we’re friends now and Mr. Nattan seems too formal, “I get what you’re saying, but the whole pride angle seems too bullish and I just don’t think I can lay on the charm without coming across as sleazy.”

Well. that’s fine. Every business needs to find a tone that works for them. But before you skulk back to the corner with your puppy eyes and your mumbles about passion, belief, and craft, remember that there’s another way. There’s always one final thing that (if done right) will get a reaction from any cynical Englishman in a way that earnestness just can’t.

It’s humour.

Nothing brings us together like a laugh. And if you’re using humour, you can be as self-deprecating as you’d like.

Remember I said I could remember two campaigns that instantly cede the number one spot to the competition? The other is for a film. In 1999, we were all going mental about the prospect of a new Star Wars film (how times change, eh?), and it was guaranteed to be the biggest release of the year. So the team behind Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me straight out told people that if they only saw one film that year, it’d be Star Wars. But they had a laugh doing it. Customers reacted, and the film made four times as much as its predecessor.

Imagine if Avis had turned around and said that they knew that Heinz were bigger and better, but they just really felt passionate about car rentals and isn’t that what counts? Or if businesses all decided to keep the conversation about their earnestly-held dreams of running a successful company. Or if Mike Myers had emerged, bleary-eyed, to tell everyone that he worked really hard on Austin Powers 2 and could they find it in their hearts to give his little film a chance.

Imagine those outcomes the next time you put pen to paper, or hire a copywriter. And remember. You want ballsy copy that will charm, engage or entertain your readers. Because that’s what will make them stand up and take notice.

And getting noticed is the first step to making a sale. Which is what the whole copywriting thing is all about, when it comes down to it.