In the beginning was the brief, and the brief was everything, so here goes:
The Brief
Your client is launching a diet pill for children aged between six and 13. It is endorsed by the Children’s Obesity Council but is still likely to spark criticism from the public. Not only do you need to draw up a marketing plan to introduce the new product and allay fears from parents that the pill is unhealthy; you also need to come up with a name and pay-off line. It will cost R54.99 for a bottle of 60 pills which is a month’s supply. Your campaign will run over three months and your budget is R5-million.
First things first: What are we selling, exactly?
Usually, media people aren’t asked to come up with product names and pay-off lines. Speaking for myself, lack of creative talent is why I focus on media: You get to hide behind the statistics. It probably also accounts for my taste in clothes, but that’s an entirely different conversation.
Suggested name: Infidin. Nicely medical, innocuous – it’s a condition, you understand, and this is simply a treatment. No judgment.
Pay-off line: “Lighten the Load”. Not really. Here’s something less offensive: “Finally – the real you.”
Strategy: The art of planning using big words
Reading the brief, I’m struck by what must be one of the biggest understatements of the year: The product, we are told, is: “—still likely to spark criticism from the public.” Let’s be clear. Irrespective of the benefit obese children and their families may gain from Infiden, the real winners are likely to be Mr. Robbie, Noelene (I can say but not spell her name) and the You/Huisgenoot journalists over at Media24. The latter are likely to get into an actual fistfight for the privilege. Carte Blanche will do an insightful investigative piece, and the late-night DJs on everything from YFM to Highveld will be making “fat kid” jokes for weeks. The Star’s letter section might also stray from the Zuma/Shaik/Zille script. I’m imagining letters entitled “Childhood Stolen”, “A Weighty Issue” or “Weighing your options.” But I digress.
The first question to ask: Who are we selling this to? The answer, in case you were wondering, is not to children. This is a medical condition, with an approved medical treatment, and we’re going to be responsible about selling it. This is because we (and the friendly people at Infiden) are human beings, and the last thing we need is more anorexic/bulimic 13-year-old girls chomping down handfuls of Infiden whilst obsessing over their fashion mags. It’s bad karma.
We are selling the product to the parents (usually, but not always, mothers) of overly expanded children. Their concern, primarily, is that they have somehow failed as parents, as evidenced by the social and physiological circumstance of their children. No failure is necessarily implied, but it is felt, so we have to deal with it as given. The mothers (and fathers) want to do the right thing, and they will need a great deal of reassurance in this regard. Where do they turn? Their doctors and pharmacists. So, we’re selling to parents and the medical community.
A second question thus emerges: How much do they want it? Well (as someone else said in a previous “Planner’s Perspective”), if they want it, you probably only have to reach them once. Assuming that the girth of your child is sufficiently difficult to miss, you’ve noticed the problem and are attuned to ways of solving it (short of having things stapled, which ranks right up there with lobotomies as “Things future generations will use as proof that we are insane”). So, the idea of adding a pill to the breakfast menu might have mighty appeal.
Our goals must therefore be:
- Reach as many parents as possible with the message that there is a solution (directly, and through our friends in the medical and pharmaceutical communities).
- Provide copious information about the product, as well as reassurance that you won’t go to hell for giving it to junior, and nor will junior develop an addiction or eating disorder. Again, we use the medical community as intermediate audience, and we need to find media platforms that are sufficiently credible.
- Provide a feedback mechanism. Parents feel more comfortable when they can interact with the supplier of a medication, and where they can see/hear/read the comments and experiences of other parents.
Lies and the Dismal Science
Media people may have an image problem. Much of what we do is based on statistics (lying on stilts, if you believe the old adage), and budgeting (even economists refer to “limited means and unlimited wants” was the “dismal science”). But, like sagging and growing hair in your ear, both are unavoidable.
We have R5-million over three months, which is actually quite reasonable. It gives us R1.6-million a month, and with discounts and added value we should be able to stretch that some more.
The target market is a little tricky. Firstly, one assumes that there is no specific bias with respect to the preponderance of chubbiness. Secondly, if the problem is severe enough, the cost of the medication would probably not be prohibitive to anything higher than LSM6. Of course, if the medication were deemed essential a generic version would, in an ideal world, eventually be distributed at government hospitals and clinics. But this isn’t a work of fiction, so back to the media. Assume (until we have sales figures to back us up) that we’re dealing with an LSM6+ audience, aged roughly 30 – 50 (yes, some people do have children at 18, but most don’t), with a slight female bias (though the bias would be more obvious in the creative than the media).
Where do we find them?
All over. We are spoilt for choice, so we get to be picky. Here’s the plan, in phases (so all the slow children can follow the argument):
Phase 1: Preaching to the Choir.
The objective is to create awareness and support amongst medical professionals. We’re aiming for GPs, relevant specialists and pharmacists. They are key to success, so we want to address them in professional and industry journals (SA Medical Journal, etc.) and directly by phoning them or their secretaries (outbound call centres are not actually that expensive) before dispatching an information pack (filled with testimonials, technical speak about neurotransmitter inhibitors, etc. The packs should also contain something cute for their desks, and maybe a branded pen).
Phase 2: Getting it, for free
Unfortunately, some of the information packs may go astray, and (quite accidentally) end up in John Robbie’s hands. “Sorry – we thought you were Doctor Robbie!” We respond to all of the media queries with additional info packs (less technical, more testimonials, and some examples of views contrary to our own to stoke the debate). Then we do lots and lots of interviews with press, radio and (probably) some television.
Phase 3: Song and Dance
We follow up some of the free publicity with loads of advertorials. We show before and after pictures, and wax poetic about the health benefits to tinier tots. The You/Huisgenoot/Drum combination appeals to me in particular. Same thing Men’s Health. Similarly, more communication in medical publications (“2,000 doctors have already put their patients on Infiden, so what’s wrong with you?”). In addition (but only for about six weeks) we do short feel-good television spots (Soap opera and news) referring people to a call centre, website and the GP.
Then, we spend the rest of our time (last six weeks of the campaign) using guilt-inducing radio spots (“Being fat is dangerous—”, but written by an actual copywriter) and planning our next campaign: Gym supplements for the 6-12 year-old market.
Johan Prins is the head of client service and strategy at Mercury.