By Craille Maguire Gillies | Photography by Pete Aspros, Grip Limited
There is nothing like a big orange slide plonked right in the middle of an office to obliterate hierarchy between upper management and everyone else. But then Toronto creative agency Grip Limited, home to that big orange slide, has never been a place for hierarchy. Grip, whose clients include Acura, Lululemon Athletica and Labatt, has an unusually linear team, with an astounding 11 partners. David Crichton, one of eight founding partners calls it a “flat structure” in which partners work directly with clients, and therefore with their own designers, writers, interactive and technical staff who put together campaigns. “There’s no corner office mentality. There isn’t actually a corner office,” Crichton says, adding that newly hired president Harvey Carroll has the worst digs in the space – a small, drafty office that no one else wants.
Grip’s office – designed by the folks at Johnson Chou and featuring the agency’s signature orange logo – is spread over two and a half floors, and reflects the open attitude of the agency. (And the fireman’s pole in the atrium is great when you’re running late for meetings.) Crichton spoke with Unlimited about breaking down barriers – and walls.
+ Every Thursday, many of the company’s 100-plus staff gather in the atrium for a 4:30 beer-fuelled news briefing. (It counts Labatt as one of its longtime clients.) “On Thursdays we open up the draft taps and play foosball,” says Crichton. “The atrium is basically stadium seating for announcements.”
+ The company has events called “What’s your story?” when anybody in the company – from someone in the production studio to a creative director – can present new ideas.
+ They notice the little things. White Astroturf lines one of the boardrooms. “It deadens sound,” Crichton says, “but it’s also not expensive. We like to do things creatively that don’t involve spending a lot of money. It sends a message to clients that you can be creative without being excessive.”
+ That working-class ethos turns up in Grip’s logo, a bright 1960s-style orange circle meant to show the company’s working-class roots. “I would say the culture here is pretty peer-oriented. Our partners work on a client’s file directly, so that means we worked directly with everyone here,” Crichton says. (Click to see a TV reel of some of Grip’s work.)
+ The non-linear structure of the company lets employees move between departments for rare wholesale career changes within the same company. For instance, a longtime studio manager became a designer and later an art director. One former IT staffer went on to become a multimedia editor/producer at Grip’s in-house production facility. The strategy is to “let people make a career change and then keep them in the company. At the end of the day, [the happiness of] a bigger paycheque only lasts two pay periods. If you provide a place where people like to work and are respected, they’ll be happier and more enthusiastic.” U
What I’m about to say may surprise you.Marketing isn’t all flash and panache, gimmicks and gadgets, or schmoozing and boozing. That’s advertising, and it’s a whole other story.
Sure, marketing is a sexy rock star in the world of business, but compared to accounting, operations and law, that’s not saying much. What’s more, behind the scenes, marketing does require a lot of hard work: research, testing, analysis, execution. Oh, and a lot of common sense.
It’s important work, though. You could have the best product, service or skills imaginable, but if nobody’s heard of you, you’re destined to fail. A good marketing strategy could mean the difference between being Coke or Clear Pepsi. It could also help your career take off. Do you want to be a whiz kid like Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg or an oaf like Family Guy’s Peter Griffin? Marketing goes way beyond simply slotting commercials into American Idol breaks. It entails everything you do to increase your company’s profile and, ultimately, to get people to buy what you’re selling, whether it’s a product, service or even yourself (as an employee, not a streetwalker).
One popular marketing textbook, Contemporary Marketing Wired, offers this definition: “Marketing is the process of planning and executing the conception, pricing, promotion and distribution of ideas, goods, services, organizations and events to create and maintain relationships that will satisfy individual and organizational objectives.”
Sounds a little broad, doesn’t it? Well, that’s the tricky part of effective marketing: there is no trick. “Unfortunately, there is no silver bullet. If there was, somebody would have written a book by now saying all you have to do is one, two and three,” says John Leishman, the president and “chief executive geek” of Calgary-based Geeks On The Way. Leishman should know. Since launching his house-call tech support firm in 2001, he’s been testing a variety of marketing strategies – from buying ads in the Yellow Pages to issuing press releases to making old-fashioned sales phone calls.
It appears to be working. Geeks On The Way, which now has 40 employees and more than 27,000 customers, is one of Alberta’s fastest growing companies; it recorded revenues of nearly $1.9 million for 2006, an 85 per cent, three-year increase. “We’re like the plumbing of computers – when people realize they have a problem, that’s when they call us,” says Leishman, who invests in being easy to find when people need tech support. “We use things like Google AdWords and ads in the Yellow Pages. We don’t spend any money on branding.” (He calls Google AdWords an inexpensive way to get noticed. You buy specific search terms, such as “Calgary” and “tech support,” and a link to your website will appear on the right-hand side of the page when those terms are queried.)
Deciding how to get the word out about your business is increasingly complex, however. Technology is evolving and media consumption patterns are changing. People across all demographics are spending more time online, whether it be on Facebook, Flickr, Bebo or YouTube. Or they’re playing video games and texting friends while listening to podcasts. And if they are watching TV, they could have hundreds of specialty channels to choose from (and video recorders to skip commercials). So you need to get creative if you want people to discover your company.
That said, getting creative doesn’t necessarily entail diving into all of the latest trends or deploying outrageous media stunts. In many cases, it could mean the opposite. Blindly following everyone onto Facebook (by buying banner ads, creating branded applications or starting sponsored groups) isn’t a slam-dunk approach. Sure, TD Canada Trust had a successful foray into Facebook with its “Split It” application, which lets university roommates plug in their shared monthly expenses and calculate how much each person owes. But changing the wording on your point-of-sale brochures, as boring as it may sound, could help boost your sales a lot more. Do what’s right for your brand. Don’t be a lemming.
“When clients say, ‘I need to be on Facebook,’ my first question is ‘why?’” says Tasha Mazza-Kelton, a partner at Toronto-based Torque Customer Strategy. She recalls one telecom client that felt a need to beef up its online presence. Instead of agreeing, Torque launched a full audit of the company’s consumer-facing operations, concluding that the telecom had to change how it trained its in-store sales reps because they were taught to stick too closely to a robotic-sounding script. Rather than sinking boatloads of money into testing new online trends, the telecom invested in re-training and saw improved sales.
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Big black spots on our reputation aside (you know who you are), communities throughout the province are working towards a more sustainable future. Just follow the map. _Natasha Mekhail
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1 Edmonton The capital is building a gasification facility with the potential to divert almost all of the city’s residential waste from landfills. The plant will convert non-recyclable and non-compostable material into a biofuel. |
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2 Hinton The first Canadian municipality to designate an “eco-industrial” zone. Hinton’s Innovista Eco-Industrial Park manages every aspect of its footprint from wastewater reclamation to wildlife migration routes. |
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3 County of Vermillion The county’s gas utility captures vented natural gas from oil wells before it’s released into the atmosphere. The gas, which would otherwise have been wasted, can then be used by households. |
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4 Okotoks Home of North-America’s first solar subdivision. The sun’s energy (with help from a borehole thermal energy storage system) provides the Drake Landing Solar Community’s 52 homes with 90 per cent of each house’s space-heating requirements. |
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5 Turner Valley In April, it became the first town in Canada to ban local food businesses from using Styrofoam. |
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6 Calgary The first city in Canada to implement a sustainable building policy for new construction. The program’s showpiece is the Water Centre, a brand new eco-architectural marvel that will pay itself off through energy savings in 15 years. |
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7 Coaldale The town followed an innovative plan to divert its storm-water runoff into manmade ponds complete with nesting islands to attract birds. Today the site is an avian rescue centre and a wildlife viewing area. |
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8 Municipal District of Pincher Creek The region is considered one of the nation’s best wind power regions. Its current total of 216 wind turbines produce approximately 225 megawatts of energy, enough to power tens of thousands of homes |
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]]>Standing up for the planet doesn’t necessarily entail waving a protest sign. You can buy green products and let the market affect change for you. But finding said merch can be tough, and certified green status can come from anywhere – governments, non-profits, even industry-sponsored organizations. A 2007 study by TerraChoice Environmental Marketing (which administers Environment Canada’s EcoLogo program) found that 99.9 per cent of green products make misleading claims. Less than one per cent actually lied. They just… fudged. Bottom line: If labels and claims aren’t certified by an independent third party or are vague (“chemical-free,” for instance, or “natural”), don’t trust ’em. After all, water is a chemical, and arsenic is natural – but that doesn’t mean you want it in your shaving cream._Lindsey Norris
The CFIA doesn’t define “free range,” though it does stipulate that free-range animals be allowed unlimited access to the outdoors with a population density equivalent to the natural world. All packages with this label must include an email address or phone number so that consumers can contact the operation for more information. Also, these operations must submit a written protocol to the CFIA and be audited by a third party. South of the border, free range is a free-for-all: poultry from the U.S. must have had daily access to the outdoors – for a whopping five minutes under Department of Agriculture standards. And eggs, beef and pork aren’t regulated at all.
Come December, organic products must be certified under the new Canada Organic program before crossing any provincial or national borders. The regulations include using natural fertilizers and raising animals in conditions that “mimic nature as much as possible.” Whatever that means.
The Fair Trade label is popping up on a growing number of products, including coffee, tea, chocolate, tropical fruit, flowers, vanilla and sugar. Certification and inspections are carried out by an independent international certification company, so when you see it, you can be sure that farmers received a fair price for their product and that its production meets specific economic, social and environmental criteria.
That cologne you’re wearing? It may have been tested on animals. And it doesn’t matter if the label says “not tested on animals,” “cruelty free” or “against animal testing.” Some unlucky bunny may still have been doused, injected or force fed it. All the company had to do was hire someone else to do the dousing, or test only the ingredients, not the finished product. The current gold standard of cruelty-free labels is the leaping bunny, created by the Coalition for Consumer Information on Cosmetics (CCIC). While all companies certified through CCIC’s leaping bunny program must follow a strict no animal testing standard, companies that want to use the logo pay between $500 to $4,500 (depending on product sales) to fund independent audits. You’ll find it on products from L’Occitane and The Body Shop. (See leapingbunny.org for more info.)
For years, manufacturers didn’t even have to fudge the truth to get away with this whopper. The Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) required that only 51 per cent of production costs be incurred in Canada, and that the last major transformation of the food was in this country. Spanish olives packed in Canadian brine fit the criteria; so did a bag of frozen vegetables that contained peas from China and carrots from Canada. In May, however, the feds announced new rules: “virtually all” contents will have to be Canadian to make the claim, PM Harper said, and imported ingredients will have to be identified on the label. Stay tuned for implementation.
There are more than three dozen organic certification bodies in Canada. Ecocert Canada, a private, Quebec-based organic certification organization, does unannounced site visits in addition to the mandatory inspections. You may find it on products from apples to cosmetics. So what makes Ecocert different from any of the others? We’re not really sure. U
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]]>There’s money in eco-brands, and the Fortune 500 set isn’t daft. Since the mid-1990s, multinationals have been snapping up trusted green independents and cashing in. But consumers won’t find those corporate links on the label. Green products have a reputation, after all. Just like the cool kid who accepts an allowance but doesn’t want mom driving him to the dance, so goes the awkward relationship between green companies and their embarrassing “parents.” Can you align the brands?
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Clorox |
Kashi |
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Kellogg’s |
Imagine |
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L’Oreal |
Burt’s Bees |
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Colgate-Palmolive |
The Body Shop |
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Heinz |
Tom’s of Maine |
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Of all the press releases that clog my inbox every morning, the best are for new products. It’s fascinating to see a) what consumers will buy, and b) what smart people (artists, scientists, product developers) spend their time on. So when I got an email touting a $23 box of marshmallows, I almost geysered my sip of coffee. Aren’t marshmallows among the lowest common denominator of food, down there with boiled hotdogs and Kraft Dinner? Not these little gems: three days in the making, forged in copper kettles and set on marble to cool. All I could think was, has “premiumization” gone too far? Yes, premiumization, a consumer trend masquerading as “a quick status fix.” You know, those designer bottled waters that cost $8 for half a litre and have names like Bling H20 and Tasmanian Rain; the high-class laundry detergents in lavender and cedar essences; the honey, hot sauces and malt vinegars that come with their own papers. All meant to give poor souls with some extra coin a moment of affluent bliss. (“You’ve arrived,” says the hot chocolate topped with Williams-Sonoma marshmallows.) Blame the iPod, trend-watchers say. It sent a message to marketers that we’ve got the cash for extravagant frivolities. Not me. These s’mores are still ghetto. U
]]>When Kalan Porter won the second season of Canadian Idol in 2004, the 18-year-old from Medicine Hat became an instant Canadian superstar. (No, it’s not an oxymoron.) His song "Awake in a Dream” strummed preteen heartstrings and became the best-selling debut single in Canuck history. Since then, Porter has released two albums, taken an ill-timed break from the music biz, and embraced his inner geek, making a video with his grandma instead of a half-naked model. After a couple dozen e-mails to his publicist, we landed a few minutes of face time with Porter when his tour touched down in Alberta. Meet the dude behind the image.
HAIR. Some people spend more time discussing Porter’s ’do than his music. It is spectacular hair: curly, blond, and artfully dishevelled. But in early 2007, he appeared in an MTV interview with straighter, darker hair. He looked 10 years older, and suave. Unfortunately, his golden curls were back for his tour last fall – and in the video for “Hurray,” in which Porter engages in a cutthroat scrabble battle with his granny (who is, of course, an actress). He even drinks from a juice box, for crying out loud.
AGE. At Porter’s Idol audition, a judge looked at the skinny teenager, who was wearing baggy blue jeans and an oversized button-down, and asked, “Are you 12?” Porter’s earnest rendition of “House of the Rising Sun” vanquished the judges’ scepticism. Ironically, they praised his maturity. Still, after he won, people joked that he had to show ID at the after-party.
TUNES. Porter is not proud of his first album, 219 Days, released just two months after his Idol victory. “It was what it needed to be,” he says. Read: he had to capitalize on his television fame. (Whatever happened to Idol’s first star, Ryan what’s-his-name?) 219 Days was schizophrenic, said reviewers. Still, it garnered him three Juno nominations. But Porter put work on his follow-up on hold to spend time with his mom, who was undergoing chemo for breast cancer, and rebounded to co-write most of the songs on Wake Up Living, released last August. The result is a more musically coherent CD. Shedding the Idol shackles, it seems, may do as much for his career as winning.
THREADS. The show’s stylists convinced Porter to shed his oversized togs in favour of black blazers and crisp T-shirts. The effect was part poli-sci student, part poet. But it was wasted effort: Idol aired a video of Porter wandering through a herd of buffalo on his family’s ranch, cementing his good-boy image. “The audience does put you in a box,” Porter says. “For me, it was always, ‘oh, he’s very shy,’ and, ‘oh, he’s so wholesome.’ It’s weird to be labelled as something that you don’t think you are.” In other words, he’s no altar boy; he just knows who buys many of his albums – parents. “I live in Toronto, I’m a young guy, I like to go out,” he says carefully. “I have a huge responsibility to young people buying my albums, but I also have to be myself.”
]]>Last November, I celebrated Buy Nothing Day by going shopping. I bought pants from Lululemon. I bought some smelly stuff from the Body Shop. And, in the true spirit of conspicuous consumption, I bought a $5, fair-trade latte.
It seems hard to believe after such a confession, but two years ago, I was a Buy Nothing Day (BND) devotee. I thought, BND – brilliance! It will shut down sweatshops, avert environmental disaster, force exploitive corporations to shape up! I read Noemi Klein, circled the day after American Thanksgiving on my calendar and regularly reminded everyone I knew of its approach.
Then, one BND – the day before a deadline – I ran out of printer paper. I had stocked up on toilet paper and laundry soap the day before, but I hadn’t considered this. There was nothing to be done. I had to shop.
I tip-toed through the store aisles, hoping not to bump into anyone I knew, when I saw him: an acquaintance from school, a crunchy granola type who glared at people drinking Starbucks. I asked him, with an embarrassed titter, why he was in a store on BND.
“Buy nothing day,” he snorted, “is a useless concept that only the self-righteous middle-class can believe in.”
Clutching my package of semi-recycled paper, it occurred to me that he was right. The concept makes a mockery of people for whom every day is buy nothing day, people like the workers in Bangladesh or India who work in horrendous conditions to produce $10 shoes so that we, the well-fed and well-educated, have the luxury of stocking up for the one day when we don’t shop. I fail to see how waiting until Tuesday to pick up a new closet organizer from Wal-Mart does the world any good.
My new theory? Instead of buying nothing for one day, we should buy something (which should be biodegradable, locally produced and useful) and give it to someone who needs it. Like the local homeless shelter. I guarantee that someone needs a new coat more than your dad needs another argyle tie under the Christmas tree.
It’s too simplistic to say that buying stuff is the problem. It’s what we buy and what we do with it that is filling landfills and warming the planet. If we only consumed conscientiously, conspicuous consumption would take care of itself; ethically-minded companies have to compete with bargain box stores, and consequently are hard to find. So I do observe BND. I use it as a reminder to read labels and consider that the cheapest option on the shelf may not be cheap in the long run. It’s hard sometimes. It means no Starbucks; no mangos; it means resoling my out-of-date shoes for almost the price of buying new. It’s a price I’m willing to pay.
BND was a good start. But we can do better. On November 23, I’ll be at the mall.
]]>This past spring, Health Canada quietly released its new food guide. This rainbow of food groups has been part of our health landscape since 1942. While it's tough to find fault with something as innocuous as a nutrition manual, government projects this sweeping, with so many stakeholders, are never realized without their share of struggles. Let's take a closer look at the evolution of a cultural icon.
1. The Old
Since its debut as the Official Food Rules, the style and content of Canada's food guide have undergone many changes. The most recent major revision was in 1992, but some elements were weak. New science about eating (i.e., the evils of trans fats) had surfaced, as had scathing reports on obesity rates. The latest rewrite began three years ago. Our familiarity with the rainbow graphic – four food goods arching colourfully across the page – was considered the old guide's biggest pro. Cons included dated graphics (milk in a bag?), confusion over serving sizes (100 grams of poultry?), and the wide range of daily recommended servings (five to 12 for grains – who eats 12 bowls of cereal every day?). Vegetarian and ethnic options were noticeably absent, and the title, Canada's Food Guide to Healthy Eating, came across as a tad, well, pushy.
2. The New
Compare the 1992 and 2007 food guides and the differences are obvious. For starters, the rainbow's green belt (fruits and veggies) is now in a position of prominence at the top of the rainbow, swapping places with grains. There are no more heaping plates of pasta, and the high end of the grains range has been slimmed down to eight daily servings. The title, too, has a softer, less prescriptive, ring: Eating Well with Canada's Food Guide. And, thankfully, the new guide features veggie options like tofu and soy milk. Still, with the exception of couscous, ethnic foods remain scarce. Not only that, but one nod to Canada's immigrant populations – a pair of chopsticks stabbing a rice bowl – represents a glaring taboo: that's the way some Asian cultures offer rice to the dead.
3. The Website
Adding an interactive element, the guide now offers personalized printouts of daily nutritional targets. Enter your age, sex and activity level details and customize away. Here we find the ethnic options (bok choy, bannock, seaweed) and more non-meat choices. Plus, a wider definition of physical activity including things like housework and tobogganing, reminding people that staying active doesn't require a gym membership.
4. The Criticism
The 12-member advisory committee that lead the revision included a rep from the B.C. dairy industry, the head of Canada's oilseed producers association and a director with the Food and Consumer Products Manufacturers of Canada. No wonder, critics say, the guide didn't come down too hard on oils, processed foods or red meat. Follow the money: Canada is one of the largest beef producers in the world, canola adds an estimated $11 billion to the domestic economy and food represents Canada's second largest manufacturing sector. Still, the ultimate responsibility is on individuals to make smart nutritional choices.