speculations – Page 36 – the Internationale

Dispatch from an advertising future #22

Old El Paso uses conversations to power restaurant

He’d not made a ‘contribution’ for 15 minutes. The ‘teamometer’ was moving into the orange zone. Power was ebbing away and he needed to “top up for the team” (™). Nodding or noting weren’t enough. He needed a “zig-zag contribution”. They sent the teamometer soaring as the wearable measured arousal hormones, synaptic activity and stress levels. He looked at Chris’ wrist. Her’s was not orange but he knew she too was looking for the moment. He had to move first. He reached for the insight he’d been saving. His wearable turned a welcome shade of green. Safe for another meeting.

His wearable buzzed as the agenda moved on to item 14.

He’d not made a ‘contribution’ for 15 minutes and the ‘teamometer’ was moving into the orange zone. Power was ebbing away and his team needed to “top up for the team” (™). There was no point in doing it right now. Any contribution now would be ‘low power’, acknowledging an item, nodding or noting an action point. No, the time to jump in was when there was a debate, a call for ideas or a chance to appear o think differently. These ‘generation moments’ (™) particularly the most cherished “zig zag generation moments” (™) were the ones to go for. They sent the teamometer soaring as the wearable measured arousal hormones, synaptic activity and stress levels.

He looked at Chris’ wrist. Her’s was not orange but he knew she too was looking for the moment. He couldn’t afford to let his team down. They were back in their office powering everything from the coffee machine and the games console to the locks on the chill rooms through their own ‘generation moments’ (™). If he didn’t get his own contribution up in this meeting, they’d all lose power.

As he reached for the insight he’d been holding onto for just this movement, he watched the lights swing around towards his seat, casting Chris into shadow. They intensified and his wearable turned a welcome shade of green. Safe for another meeting.

Dispatch from an advertising future #21

Interactivity makes DOOH far more effective

There was something not quite right. She stopped. In the middle of the street. Her wearable and hearable were still signalling. The pavement, walls and windows were still signalling, a wash of messages that semiotically vibrated in tune with her footsteps and social profile. But amid all the signals there was a noise. Something was wrong. She looked around. Unsettled. And then she saw it. It didn’t move. It didn’t vibrate or call. It didn’t demand participation or involvement. It stubbornly refused to ‘interact’. It was silent. Still. Power-full. Stuck on a wall. She stopped and read it… and smiled.

There was something wrong.

She stopped. In the middle of the street. Something was wrong.

Her wearable and hearable were still signalling she realised, she was so good at tuning them out that she had to take a moment to check. The pavement was still signalling, a wash of messages that semiotically vibrated in tune with her footsteps. The walls were still signalling, windows into message worlds tuned to her own profile. But amid all the signals there was a noise. Something was wrong.

She looked at the other pedestrians some more skilled than others at tuning out the signals and ignoring the cries of the interactive market traders vying for their attention. Promising. Dangling interactive moments in front of them. They passed by some with digital blockers, some with analog, some like her with highly developed personal psychological ones that software vendors couldn’t hack or bypass. They were all blocking or a(d)voiding but, still, there was something wrong.

She looked around. Disturbed. Unsettled. And then she saw it. It didn’t move. It didn’t vibrate or call. It didn’t call for participation or involvement. It stubbornly refused to ‘interact’. It was silent. Still. Power-full. Stuck on a wall.

She stopped and read it… and smiled.

Dispatch from an advertising future #20

Brand ads on YouTube appear alongside fake cancer cures

You know what content gets the views. You need to be where the public are… but you have your brand to think of. Don’t worry. With Highground (TM) we’ll make sure your ad still appears against the most popular content: truthful or ‘fake’. We care about reach but we put safety first, If content veers to the “fake ‘n fun” end of the continuum, we add a playlist of expert content and support to the end of your message. Enjoy the reach that fake-news (or as we call it, “popular news”) offers and be seen to take the moral Highground.

You want the views. You know what content gets the views. You need to be where the public are… but you have your brand to think of. You are a household brand, family brand, a truth-full brand. You don’t want to be associated with truthers or climate change deniers… but that’s where the viewers are.

Now, you don’t need to worry. With YourTube’s new Safety First (TM) you can still get the views, stand by your values and even add value to your brand.

If your ad is set to appear alongside a dubious cancer cure video, the Safety First (TM) will create a playlist of established, expert-reviewed cancer support content and add a Safety First (TM) message before your ad drawing the viewers’ attention to the wealth of good content YourTube hosts as well as your commitment to the best content and information.

You still get the views from the most popular so-called fake-news (or as we prefer to call it “popular news”). You add value to your customer and their YourTube experience and you position your brand as on the side of truth. What’s not to like?

Dispatch from an Advertising Future #19

Sorrell posits post-Brexit UK as home for Google

The sky above New Dover was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. Its server farms, the “blue birds”, rose over the channel, along the white cliffs. Stuff flowed through the port as never before, at the speed of light; the only barriers the latency of the cables, the only restrictions the laws of thermodynamics. Little England was a network node, a client, a server. Some had thought they’d flock to a European Singapore. They hadn’t come. They didn’t need homes. They just needed clear networks. New Dover, like Little England, was built around a shiny, frictionless architecture.

The sky above New Dover was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. The queues of lorries had long gone now. Gridlock was a thing of the past. The extra customs and police were off on other zero-hours contracts now. The old port still bore the scars of the ‘disturbances’ but the country had settled back as its famous phlegmatic culture demanded.

There was a new England, a new Little England as brand. Little England as a superpower; a new superpower; a new sort of trading superpower.

Dover’s shiny server farms and cooling towers rose over the channel. The cables and microwave towers or “blue birds” as they had been called lined up along the white cliffs and up the M20 towards London. Stuff flowed through the old port as never before, at the speed of light across the channel and across Little England; the only barriers the latency of the cables, the only restrictions the laws of thermodynamics as the Company fought to cool the port and ports.

Digital trade flowed backwards and forwards through Dover, fanning out across Little England, circulating, routing, never resting in any one jurisdiction.

Little England, far from being isolated, independent and alone as some had feared (or hoped) was now a more integrated part of a trading bloc than it had ever been. No longer an island it was a node in a network, a client, a server.

Some had thought they’d flock to a European Singapore, that the post-Brexit regime would provide a naural home for a corporation demanding freedom, independence and flexibility. Some saw them becoming English. They hadn’t come. They didn’t need to. They didn’t need homes. They just needed clear networks.

New Dover, like Little England itself, was built around a shiny, frictionless architecture.

Dispatch from an advertising future #18

Bacardi jumps on ASMR bandwagon with ‘Sound of rum’ campaign

She no longer paid for Premium but she didn’t mind. The sensory ads didn’t disturb her playlist, they seemed to somehow enhance it. . She knew that the binaural birdsong was surround sound and that the smell of new-mown grass and the feel of the breeze were just synaesthetic tricks. Intellectually, she knew. Experentially? She suddenly felt like walking home. She felt fresh air and space. As she passed a yellowing poster with a graphic image of a tumour on the end of a cigarette she heard what sounded like a hospital waiting room and remembered she hadn’t wanted a cigarette.

She found it mildly disconcerting at first. She knew that the binaural birdsong was surround sound and that the smell of new-mown grass and the feel of the breeze were just synaesthetic tricks. Intellectually, she knew. Experentially? to be honest she just sat back and enjoyed it. Or more correctly, she carried on walking through the city. The bone conduction headphones augmenting the real sounds of the street, overlaying story upon experience.

It not only didn’t bother her, she felt quite smug about the fact she no longer paid for Premium. She’d seriously considered it when the scripted pseudo-radio ads changed the rhythm of her playlist, the sonic journey she’d so carefully curated for her commute. Now the gaps between the playlist tracks no longer jarred, they almost gelled. Mini soundscapes, seamlessly flowing.

She saw cars and busses, crowded streets and shops and stressed commuters vaping. But she felt fresh air and space. As the next few tracks played she decided to walk on to the next stop. It was only when she passed a yellowing poster with a graphic image of a tumour on the end of a cigarette that she remembered she still had a pack in her bag.

As she did, the next soundscape interlude began with sounds: a polyphony of foreign language voices drowning out what sounded like a hospital waiting room.

Dispatch from an advertising future #17

Diet Coke ‘Do You Do’ campaign anchors the future of brand to ‘lit’ cultural trends

She reached for the can from the shelf and stopped herself. She didn’t mind that she’d turned fifty. She still thought of herself as young. She’d been a punk. She liked to swear. She didn’t think her language was middle-aged and she didn’t need a can talking to her in what some algorithm determined was middle-aged speak just because her fifty-year-old fingers had touched it and activated some software that wrote fifty-speak onto the digital label. “I am not a number, I am a free…” she muttered. “What do you want? Information! You won’t get it!” scrolled around the label.

She reached for the can from the shelf and swiftly put it back down.

She asked the puzzled woman next to her to pick the can up and drop it in her basket. Angrily she took the can out and slammed it back onto the shelf. She didn’t say anything. She wanted to. She wanted to swear but the voice assistants on the shelf were attentive. Listening and feeding back to the cans. She kept her expression as neutral as she could, knowing that that would never be enough.

She really wanted that can. Really. She though of knocking it into the basket but knew she’d still have to reach in and take it out if not at the door scanner, at least at home and then the damn thing would change again.

She didn’t mind that she’d turned fifty. She liked being mature but she still thought of herself as young. She’d been a punk for goodness sake. She liked to swear. She didn’t think her language was middle aged and she certainly didn’t need a can talking to her in what its algorithm determined was fifty-speak just because her fifty-year-old fingers had touched it and activated some software that wrote fifty-speak onto the digital label.

The kid next to her picked up the can and giggled as the label strung symbols and abbreviations across the label. He didn’t mind. He probably didn’t even notice and if he did, he was just amused by the linguistic dad dancing. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to be linguistically pigeon-holed, condescended to. She refused to be addressed as a demographic. “I am not a number, I am a free…” she muttered.

Damn, from microphone through payment profile to linguistic position, the algorithm had probably already matched the reference. She picked up the can. Sure enough: “what do you want? Information! You won’t get it!” scrolled around the label.