Earlier this week, I was quoted in Chris Lee’s NMK Forum piece on the consequences of social media shaming from a PR reputation management perspective. It hit the headlines after one woman publicly shaming a developer at PyCon (a programming conference) for alleged sexist remarks ended with both losing their jobs and a whole host of other fallout that could have easily been avoided.

The whole episode made me recall an incident from three years ago when I somehow got onto a PR mailing list and got bombarded with emails every day. A polite request to be removed was ignored and a follow up resulted in some sarcastic comments on this blog, which I subsequently traced back to the offices of the same PR company (Golden rule of the Internet. You write it, somebody can probably find you. Just ask Curtis Woodhouse).

I sat for a while deciding whether to name and shame before the journalist in me thought it best to at least get their side of the story and speak to somebody at the company. I’m glad I did. I had a good chat with somebody senior, made a contact and considered the whole thing closed (I’ve no idea what happened to the individual concerned – it’s not my place to conduct another company’s HR).

Although I never really followed up the contact, I’m still glad I didn’t name and shame. Other than perhaps a five second burst of Internet infamy, I’d rather my name wasn’t circulated in circles for the wrong reasons. Ultimately, I’d rather resolve things by talking rather than leaping on Twitter to denounce all and sundry.

As I said on Chris’s post, there a lot that can be achieved behind the scenes before resorting to naming and shaming.

Not that it doesn’t have a place. One particular utility company drove me to absolutely despair to the point shouting about the problem on Twitter, which was more cathartic than anything else (I have no idea how useful my frustrated rant was). And working on several Twitter accounts, I’ve seen how often turn to Twitter as the first port of call rather than call or email, which fascinates me from a professional perspective.

I’m still hopeful there’ll never be a time when I resort, if that’s the right word, to naming and shaming on Twitter or elsewhere. For a start, I’ve no wish to be the focus of an article rather than a person quoted on it.

And here’s the first post: an analysis of when brands should and shouldn’t piggyback on an internet meme, with specific reference to the Harlem Shake.

And I’m still doing the football writing, when time allows. Here’s me at The Two Unfortunates imagining what if Exeter City manager Paul Tisdale had landed the Swansea City job.

Erik, our Norwegian surfing instructor, is nothing if not to the point.Ten minutes into my first ever surfing lesson, and it appears there are many ways you can eat shit. Given my complete lack of balance and co-ordination, this could be a very painful two hours that involves a lot of shit eating.

I am not a natural beach person, as my pale complexion probably immediately makes clear. As a child at the seaside, I was always happier exploring rock pools before going for a quick paddle and maybe a game of beach cricket. That’s not changed much. I emphatically had no interest in surfing and this lack of interest has continued all my adult life. Yet, here I am on Bondi Beach, about to embarrass myself in front of the Australian beach going community.

This wasn’t my idea, but I was told by my other half that if we were visiting Australia, I should experience the local culture and the surf lesson was duly booked. For me, not for her, obviously. Friends in England found this hilarious. “Pasty Brit on a surfboard on Bondi Beach. This will be brilliant,” was the general consensus.

As it turns out, the surf class is full of pasty Brits and one pasty Canadian, all of whom inhabit various degrees of hopelessness from complete novice to falling over a lot. Erik is very thorough though and has the patience of a saint as he guides us through the movements on dry land. “You might want to stand further back down the board, or you’ll wipe out,” he says, looking at my jerk movement from horizontal to standing up.

Me, in a rare moment standing up

Twenty minutes in, and it’s time to head into the water, waddling like penguins in our wetsuits. Erik talks us through how to prepare for a wave, before pushing us each off, much like a parent does to a child on a bike with stabilisers.

On my first attempt, I’m far too terrified to attempt to stand and tentatively attempt a movement towards the end of the wave. Predictably I fall over. “You need to be more decisive, stand up in one quick movement,” says Erik.

The next few attempts follow a similar pattern before I finally attempt to stand up quickly – and, crucially, without thinking – and, to my astonishment find myself standing on the board and the wave pushes me in to shore. This lasts about 10 seconds before I fall over.

Erik, who has probably been sighing inwardly at my timidity on the board is impressed. “Not bad, you’ve a good motion. You just need to concentrate and focus when you’re standing up and you won’t fall over.”

Concentration, it appears, is my major downfall. I stand stand but find it impossible to focus on anything in the distance, not helped by the fact I’ve not wearing glasses or contacts. After two relatively successful stands, I become too cocky and promptly spend the next three attempts falling off the board relatively rapidly. Still, I’m feeling good about my progress until Erik tells the group we’re moving into deeper water to try and catch a series of waves to take us to the shore.

Lying on the board attempting to paddle further out, I feel like a slightly backwards dog. There’s a lot of splashing around but I’m not really going anywhere. Even more embarrassing is the point where everybody stops and sits on their board. It appears I’m incapable of balancing without falling off.

Erik pushes us off again as we aim for shore, except this time if you fall off, which I inevitably do, there’s a long way back to the beach and it’s quite clear that without the initial shove, I’m incapable of being able to push off, let alone gain enough momentum to stand up. My only consolation is the rest of the class appear to be equally inept and it’s not an uncommon sight to see them flying through the air minus the surf board.

After the fourth capsize in as many seconds a nearby Australia swims across to me. “You’re not very good at this are you,” he says in typical blunt Aussie style. “First-timer?”

With a mouthful of seawater, I’m unable to speak so just nod instead. “You’ll get better at it,” he says, “although you’re probably best to stick to practising in the indoor pool.” With that, he turns his attention to his five-year-old son, who is gliding through the water with the ease of someone who has spent their life on the surfboard. I start paddling towards shore, catch a wave, attempt to stand up and wipe out badly, landing on my jaw (who knew this was even possible?).

Despite the pain – my back is also starting to ache badly – and the fact I’m still a good three or four wipe outs from shore, I grin. This surfing lark is quite fun, providing it’s done closish to the shore. And I have lots of help. And as long as it’s done on a sunny day on Bondi. Really, don’t expect to find me doing this on a cold November in Cornwall. I’m willing to attempt local culture, but not so willing to take it home with me.

I went surfing with Let’s Go Surfing. Despite my ineptitude on the board, they’re actually very good and I had a blast. Can definitely recommend them if you fancy attempting to catch some waves for the first time.

About six months ago, I nipped into London Trocadero branch on the off-chance of finding the fourth series of a well-known American drama on DVD, as well as to see if I could find a couple of other DVDs I was considering buying for presents.

After much searching, and on the verge of giving up, I asked a shop assistant if they had the fourth season of Dexter. “Never heard of it, mate,” came the reply. Did they know where it might be found? “Not sure, sorry.” Was there any possibility of ordering it in or that it may arrive in the next few days. “Doubt it.” It was a similar story with the other items on the list.

Then there was a similar experience this Christmas, when I may the last-minute decision to add a DVD into a Christmas present. The store was packed, but the DVD was nowhere to be found. Both quite frustrating.

Whether my story was a common occurrence or just bad luck, I’ve no idea. It does hint at a reason why HMV have been so troubled. If the staff seem indifferent to their products or to helping customers – and it’s virtually impossible to find what you’re looking for, it’s no wonder people are turning to the easy-to-navigate Amazon.

Amazon, supermarkets and the digital world in general will naturally be blamed, but equally the company itself can take plenty of blame for the long-standing debts it finds itself saddled with. The over-expansion over the late nineties and early noughties, combined with somewhat questionable acquisitions such as Fopp and Ottakar’s, played as much of a part as Amazon’s growth.

HMV never did quite sort out the online side of its business either, with the browsing experience often as frustrating as trying to find an item in the store itself. That’s hardly Amazon or Sainsbury’s fault if a major retailer can’t get one of the more basic requirements right and was too late to realise the need to enter a major market.

But while the nostalgia for HMV is perhaps a little disingenuous – If you really love a shop that much, try to step foot in in more than one a year – it’s certainly not misplaced. As a teenager, HMV always had that perfect balance between the mainstream pop and the more niche (if not obscure) music, while their foreign film collection was a joy for a cinema obsessive from Devon. Their staff were always passionate, friendly and only too willing to help, which is what makes their demise even sadder at the missed opportunities.

Brands can’t live on nostalgia alone though, and as journalist Dave Lee and Newsbeat reporter Greg Cochrane have noted, hardly anybody under the age of 26 seems particularly bothered about the retailer’s demise.

Absolutely no HMV nostalgia on my Facebook feed from anyone under 26. There’s your hint as to why it may have failed.

@davelee same reflection from young people I’ve voxed recently

— Greg Cochrane (@GregCochrane) January 15, 2013

With over 4,000 jobs at risk, there should be no pleasure to be taken for gloating and saying I told you so or using it to champion the brilliance of the digital age. The issues, as I’ve touched on early, weren’t solely down to the likes of Amazon, while it’s no fun to see another set of high street shops go empty. And for those who still have resisted Amazon and the internet’s charms (and, yes, such people do exist), it leaves a difficult hole to replace.

Still, as Robert Peston writes, it’s probably best the “zombie” company was put out of its misery, given it had been flatlining for two years. You can even make an argument it should have done earlier. And who knows, I’m no retail expert, but perhaps a new company with a much more sensible approach to online/offline might even arise and make HMV nostalgia just that – a thing of the past.

]]> http://www.garyandrews.net/2013/01/15/rip-hmv-not-a-eulogy/feed/ 0 http://www.garyandrews.net/2013/01/03/the-wonderfully-mundane-world-of-twitter-customer-service/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=the-wonderfully-mundane-world-of-twitter-customer-service http://www.garyandrews.net/2013/01/03/the-wonderfully-mundane-world-of-twitter-customer-service/#comments Thu, 03 Jan 2013 18:26:21 +0000 Gary http://www.garyandrews.net/?p=1367 Continue reading →]]> Rain. Broken shoes. Buying Christmas presents. Roads. Train timetables. None of them are particular exciting, bar perhaps Christmas, but all have, in one way or another, shown the value of Twitter and how the microblogging site has become part of our everyday world – even if it’s not necessarily the best place to find answers.

Two years ago – a lifetime in internet terms – a sustained period of wintery weather threatened to cancel the family Christmas as the roads and transport into and around Devon were particularly impassable in rural areas. It was difficult to get a full picture of what was passable and what wasn’t and it was touch and go if I’d be joining my family.

This year, despite some of the heaviest flooding seen in Devon for many decades, there was a much better flow of information. Local radio stations and journalists used Twitter to broadcast any flood alerts and developments on the roads and rail, sharing pictures and information. Followers in the county shared eyewitness knowledge. And, most useful of all, the county council’s head of Highways Operations Tweeted any road closure, dangerous roads or re-openings.

Until recently, the latter would have been completely inaccessible to members of the general public. Combined together, with a few well-targeted searches, it was possible to be completely across the travel situation in the county (and Devon is a big county) and feel confident enough not to have to reserve a hotel room in case of being trapped due to the floods.

But it wasn’t just about staying informed. A friend who was joining us for New Year had already Tweeted First Great Western about rail replacement buses for her return journey before even arriving at the house. And that aspect of customer service is becoming increasingly important on Twitter – even if it’s perhaps not the most effective way of achieving a result.

Recently a pair of boots we’d purchased from Schuh started to fall apart after just a couple of months. My first instinct was to check if Schuh had a Twitter account and Tweet them asking to help. Second instinct was to actually have a quick look on their website and after one easy-to-find number and an incredibly helpful call centre employee later we had replacement boots.

So, yes, not exactly thrilling, but – having spent time manning various corporate Twitter accounts over the years – the level of customer service questions is rising. Sending a Tweet is a lot quicker and easier than spending a bit of time searching for an answer online. Thankfully Schuh’s website and customer service has been among the best I’ve seen recently (and their Twitter account seems equally helpful). A good brand should be able to proactively balance the two.

Contrast this with Debenhams, who were less than helpful when a Christmas present went astray through an error their end and was only resolved after taking to Twitter, largely in desperation at going round in circles with their phone lines, culminating in being told to buy the same gift again way before any prospect of a refund. Even that involved going round in a lot of circles (although eventually had a happy ending).

Twitter isn’t – and certainly shouldn’t be – the be all and end all for any company, but it certainly helps to know exactly what you’re there for. And it’s often quite mundane, but then that probably reflects Twitter well.

So followers of a local journalist want to know about news that affects their area, especially any road closures and similar. Local councils can make everybody’s lives easier by communicating changes to bin collections.

And for a lot of brands, the intention from the marketing and PR teams may be to get onto Twitter and do something cool and fun, but a lot of their customers will be looking for it as an extension of their customer service department – and will inevitably be disappointed if this fails to live up to expectations. A recent survey from Acquity says 71% of big brands leave customer Tweets unanswered. Having great ideas to use Twitter is one thing – knowing what your audience expert is another thing all together.

I’ve also written a different piece on this issue in the past for The Two Unfortunates.

Will be interested to see what response this provokes, given the further belt-squeezing we’re seeing across the country. Football normally lives in its own little financial bubble. Not sure that will be so viable over this decade.

There was one small problem for the potential employer. Ollie’s Facebook profile picture displayed a young man slightly the worse for wear taking part in a game of human Buckaroo. Click through and status updates varied from discussion of Ollie’s assorted hangovers and Ollie’s night’s out.

I’ve no idea if Ollie got the role, although I’d assume not. For all we know, Ollie could actually be a contentious, dedicated employee, although you wouldn’t know it from his Facebook page.

Ollie’s story popped into my head when reading AVG’s latest Digital Diaries. Recently, a work-related project has seen me working on advice sessions on ways social media can help your career. The regular monitoring I do in this area has picked up some excellent examples, but also some absolute shockers (I’d love to share, but I don’t want to embarrass these people any more than they’ve already done) and my own experience tallies a lot with the stats AVG’s study has returned.

Generally older users of social networkers appear a little more sensible in their use of social media (although not always. Two of the worst examples of an employee making derogatory comments on Twitter about employers have been from 40-year-olds who really should know better), while the 18-25 age group seem a little less circumspect about what they post.

Again, this is a bit of a generalisation, but when 92% of the 4,440 young adults interviewed admit to posting negative comments about former employers online, it suggests there’s very much a Tweet in haste, repent in leisure attitude among this age bracket. And given the majority of the 230 HR professionals viewed abusive comments about employers in a similar light to extremist views, that’s not necessarily a good thing.

These last 12 months have seen a slight shift in awareness (or lack of) in what’s appropriate in a public, online medium. Criminal prosecutions, libel actions, and the like have come to the fore on social media. Most recently, a young reporter lost his job for Tweeting an allegation about a celebrity and sexual abuse.

But I can also see Lianne Froggatt’s point about not having an online profile being worse than having a profile with tipsy Facebook pictures – although if your online footprint really is full of Ollie-isms, then you might want to consider locking away some of the worse aspects.

As Lianne writes:

“[T]hat doesn’t solely extend to looking for pictures of you passed out after a raucous house party. They’re also looking for insightful blog posts discussing your field, interesting and relevant connections and conversations and a general mastering of the digital world as well as your specific area of professional interest.

 

“What does it say about your suitability for work in a world that is ever-increasingly reliant on digital, if you do not appear at all when those HR spooks type in your name on Google? Are you capable of working in a fast-paced digital environment if you do not even take interest in personal online networks?”

Me, I’d be pretty relaxed about somebody having an active social life, providing it didn’t impinge on their work – calling in sick after posting a status on Facebook at 2am telling the world how drunk you are is not impressive. Having your boss see your drunken pictures from the weekend isn’t a great idea, but at least it’s been done in your own time.

And largely, people mature and their online footprint will reflect that. A drunken or idiotic post from four years ago shouldn’t count against somebody who is articulate, thoughtful and has a well-connected online presence – and doesn’t drunk Tweet.

As with most aspects of online life, it’s about context. That said, given that fewer than half of the young adults surveyed had conducted an online audit of their profile, it’s probably no bad thing to check your Facebook privacy settings and be a little less hasty with the Tweet button – and that’s something that can probably be said for all of us. Especially Ollie.

Using SEO to drive the editorial agenda is nothing new. Any good news site should at least be taking this into account. Many already do.

Witness the large number of tech blogs that fill up weeks before an Apple announcement with nothing more than speculation, but cleverly designed to hook in the Googlers. Gawker and others employ somebody to look for trending memes and virals with the intention of publishing them on a mainstream site before anyone else.

Then there’s the Mail Online, probably the best mainstream media proponent of SEO. For all the “but that’s not news” cries, the Mail are incredibly successful in their SEO friendly headline and content and it pays off majorly with page views. Never underestimate the power of a non-story of bikini shots with an SEO-friendly headline.

But does this, as the journalist who originally Tweeted, spell the death of sports journalism? It’s easy to see why journalists, especially those with strong notions of what comprises of journalism, might be uneasy with the rise of sites like the Bleacher Report. As for whether it spells the death of journalism. Probably not.

The Bleacher Report does what it does well. It uses techniques that a lot of journalists and bloggers would do well to look at and if the community didn’t at least like some part of it, they wouldn’t return.

But it doesn’t mean that all reportage has to reach the lowest-common denominator SEO-influenced page view chasing articles.

Indeed, if there’s a race to the bottom, it means there’s a space at the top of the market – and when there’s a space, someone will eventually fill it. That may be a current website or media organisation, or it may be a site that doesn’t exist yet.

The Bleacher Report is more like a shot of cheap espresso, while long-form journalism is more like a good quality coffee to be savoured. Granted, it may not shift as many units as a quick fix, but it will always have a market for what it does. But then the popularity of the Blizzard and blogs such as twohundredpercent show that there is a market for longform or alternative commentary that doesn’t just regurgitate the more mainstream publications.

There’s a large part of me that feels that at some point in the future we’re going to see a slight split between platforms for short-form SEO friendly content and longform journalism and reportage (the type that costs, or at least is time consuming to produce). And I suspect tablets – be they iPads, Samsung Galaxys or Kindles – will play a large part in this.

Research from Pew already suggests that tablet owners are reading more longform content and spending significant amounts of time doing so. Unless you want to better (if that’s the right word) or replicate the Bleacher Report’s methods, then there’s no reason why the two can’t live happily side-side-by-side, with one mastering the web and the other the tablet.

One of my favourite pages on Facebook is the Condescending Corporate Brand Page, which reposts and ridicules the slightly more cringeworthy attempts by brands to generate engagement among their followers. It’s a good page for any social media manager to follow, as it provides a nice little reality check.

While it’s fun to poke fun at a brand page that asks a question of “What do you prefer, autumn leaves or puppies?” on a page that has nothing to do with leaves or puppies, it also highlights a frustrating and slightly concerning trend with Facebook pages.

Facebook’s new algorithm is currently causing a lot of consternation among companies with Facebook presences and social media alike. Reach of posts on Facebook, as well as referrals, have dropped by around 50% for some pages.

The principle behind delivering more targeted news to relevant people is, in theory, sound. In practice, it feels an awful lot if Facebook are pushing companies, especially smaller ones, into paying to promote their status to a wider audience, even if that may not necessarily be the case. In trying to solve one problem regarding users, Facebook feel like they’ve swung too much in the other direction and have created another potentially bigger ones for brands.

The obvious answer for those who don’t want to pay is to try and create posts with more engaging posts – after all, the more interactions a post receives, the greater its virality (Facebook word choice, not mine) and the better chance it has of being seen by a wider audience. This, in theory, means brands need to work harder in attracting engagement.

Robin Grant from We Are Social says in his analysis: “Facebook’s changes mean brands need to shift to creating social content that is “as engaging as the posts you see from friends and family” and supplement this with a sophisticated paid promotion strategy.”

This may be true, to an extent, but it also overlooks the very quick, easy way for a site to boost engagement. Namely the incongruous, often irrelevant pictures scattered throughout brand pages. The new Facebook news feed (especially on mobile) gives a lot of weight to images and, as most pages managers can tell you, even with a quick glance at their Insights, is that image posts tend to do a lot better than other content.

Links, video, status updates and the rest rarely attract as many likes as a picture. No matter how irrelevant that picture may be. And that’s the worry. That in an effort to go “Look boss, we’ve got 200 likes per post” on Facebook, brands are just posting Likebait rather than anything meaningfully engaging. Need to boost your engagement? Just post a cute animal picture with no relevance to your brand.

Incidentally, if you want a good example of posting a cute animal picture done well, this post from Radio 4 is funny, clever, personable and relevant (even if most people end up talking about the rug in the background).

In a roundabout way you could argue that posts that just act as Likebait (I’m sorry, I know that’s a wanky word) do have an overall effect of boosting awareness, likes and a greater chance of more relevant content being seen. But equally Robin Grant isn’t wrong when he says that brands have to work harder to produce more engaging posts on Facebook.

If you’re a small business with a previously successful Facebook page suddenly struggling to keep up the same level of engagement and referrals because of the changes then it’s a lot of hard work. I’ve heard plenty of rumbling behind the scenes from bigger brands and well-respected PR / marketing / social media professionals who are giving Facebook a long hard look at the moment given the changes. They too will have to work harder.

A lot of it comes from aims and strategy. If a company if serious about using Facebook as the cornerstone of their social strategy and has a drawn out plan and realistic KPIs then I suspect they’ll adapt and find a way.

Others may decide – or get pressure from above – that it’s easier to chase Likes with a few lazy pictures rather than working harder to really promote deeper engagement and brand awareness. And that really won’t do anybody any favours in the long run.

The way to pay, though, isn’t David Leigh’s suggestion of a broadband levy. I admire Leigh as a journalist but the idea seems far too naive and unworkable. Tim Worstall and Charlie Beckett have both written excellent posts picking apart Leigh’s proposal.

One thing that Beckett pushes home is the fact that people do currently pay for journalism and that should be our starting point rather than trying to prop up models that are failing.

This isn’t to say I’m one of those willing print (or broadcast) to fail. I still love newspapers and magazines and while I have a few iPad subscriptions I still prefer a print copy in my hands.

But times move and even an excellent publication with a devoted following like The Word can’t get enough of its readers to make it a commercially viable print proposition. Former editor David Hepworth’s post on its demise is equally informative on how the industry has changed completely as it is on why the magazine went under.

So you’ve got two different, but not mutually exclusive schools of thought – the first being that if the medium is right then people will may for journalism. And the second, that there is a thirst for information that is cutting out the traditional role of a journalist.

Perhaps, then, the industry isn’t in crisis. It’s just evolving. As it always has done and will continue to do. We all know the web has changed the game and that most organisations that involve journalism, even some of the more web-savvy ones, are still trying to apply a funding model for print that involved a straight top-down captive audience model onto a diversified industry of which print is only a small part. Perhaps the industry isn’t dying, but the approach to it is the wrong medicine for this generation.

Or perhaps the approach is wrong simply because you can’t apply a one-size-fits-all approach to big media in this day and age. Look at the web strategies for the Mail, the Guardian and the Financial Times. All previously beholden to the same model, and all now going down vastly different routes, in no small part determined by their audience.

And perhaps the model isn’t anything quite what we’re working towards at the moment. As Beckett (and I really urge you to read his post) notes there’s still a need for curation and analysis and other traditional journalism skills, even if the skills are being applied in a different format or medium.

And indeed, as Beckett also notes, people are still paying for journalism, just in different ways. Whether this will save much-needed local journalism for a community in the short-term is unsure, but if there’s an gap in the market, there’ll also be an opportunity.

And the mode the journalism is delivered – be it tablet, print, online or something else – may be done in a different way to how we envisage it. Do we still hold onto a model that isn’t working because its what we think this is the only way for journalism to be done? Or do we continue to look for a opportunities that take journalism into the future.

It’s much like when the BBC announced Blue Peter was moving to the CBBC channel permanently. There was plenty of people commenting on how this was the death of children’s television or a sad indictment of the channel’s commitment to children’s television. But when you looked at the figures and facts, CBBC was the best place to broadcast Blue Peter – those complaining were holding onto an idea of something they valued from a very different era, without necessarily having watched the show recently. It’s an apt mirror for journalism, where people who may not have purchased a newspaper or magazine recently still have a very distinct idea of what journalism should look like.

I still believe in journalism. I still (perhaps naively) believe people will pay for it. And I still love print, which is why I wouldn’t ever say “I told you so” or revel in the delight of ‘old’ media dying. But I also think that you can’t necessarily hold onto the past forever and if this means journalism is no longer delivered in certain mediums that we’re used to in order to keep the industry and move it forward, then so be it.