Downton in D.C.

The "Today Show" reported that a congressman decorated his D.C. office "in the style of Downton Abbey" replete with red flocked wallpaper and late Victorian furnishings. The question is did he go whole hog? Did he replace that modern electric lighting with Downton-era gas? Does he summon his staff with a funky bell and cable system like we see at the beginning of the telecast? Do his butlers, valets, and footmen sport white-tie formal wear? Is his staff relegated to a subterranean room for meals? Do the plot lines of his Congressional life develop at a glacial pace perked up only by the acerbic comments of his mother who bears a striking resemblance to Maggie Smith? Actually, the controversy is not related to "Downton" (Who would dare criticize the favorite fantasy show of middle-aged women everywhere?) but where the Congressman obtained the funds for the lavish office decor. And perhaps a bit of jealousy from his Congressional peers with their sterile 21st century Steelcraft office furnishings. I was project manager for the new Boston District Facility back in the 80s. It included Sales Offices. We got a heck of a deal from our contractor and actually had money left over when the project was complete. I always left the choice of furnishings to the people who would actually work there (within budget). The District Manager decided to spend some of the largesse on expanding his corner office and installing a "chandelier" there. When the Regional Manager visited Boston for the Grand Opening, he was taken aback. "Dufton, this guy's office is bigger than mine. His desk is bigger than mine, and i don't have a chandelier. You will change this!" The Boston District Manger didn't last long, by the way. Will the same fate befall the "Downton"-loving Congressman? Is his office better-furnished than John Boehner's? Will there be consequences? The proverb states, "The blade of grass that sticks up is the one that will be cut." On the other hand, that bit of "Downton" in D.C. could be quite the tourist attraction. "I know he is not our Congressman, but after we tour the Smithsonian and the White House, could we visit his offices? I've always wanted to ring a bell and have a butler appear."

Product Differentiation

Product differentiation is the key to a successful marketing strategy. Customers willingly pay $300 more for an Apple computer because "everyone knows" that macs don't crash as often as Dells and they look cooler anyway. Label your perfume "White Diamonds" and sell it for $20 per bottle. Label it "White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor" and you can sell it for $80 and Liz has been dead for years. Another way to achieve high profits through product differentiation is by having a unique feature. Pez is lousy candy, but put that lousy candy in a dispenser shaped like Bugs Bunny and you can name your price. You can also foment a Pez Dispenser Museum in downtown Easton (Our Fair City), PA. Toilet paper would appear to be The Great White Whale of Product Differentiation. How can we get people to pay more for our t.p.? Toilet paper has been colored and scented for years. No one gets excited about that. Then there was the weird Mr Whipple "squeezably soft" Charmin campaign from 25 years ago. It worked for a while but then people just "put it behind them" (a little t.p. humor there). Cottonelle may have slain The Great White Whale of Product Differentiation or at least put a harpoon in it. Their TV commercial shows a woman with a microphone and a clipboard (so she must be official) outside a row of Porta-Potties at what appears to be a sporting event of some kind. She stops a chubby, balding, middle-aged guy and asks, "Would ridges on your toilet paper make you cleaner and fresher?" "Sure would," he replies. At this point in the commercial, I had an unfortunate flashback to my Army days. Included with one's C Rations were three cigarettes and a small wad of toilet paper. Now, the C Rations available to us in Korea in 1970 were labeled with their packing date and that date was 1943. You have to be really desperate to smoke a ciggie that is older than you are. More to the point, there wasn't a whole lot of quality control on toilet paper manufacture during WW II. The t.p. with our C Rations had embedded wood chips. The "ridges" from those wood chips certainly added to the cleanliness of the operation but the aftereffects stunk. Back to the Cottonelle commercial, the woman then asks, "If you were cleaner and fresher, would you consider going commando?" As all the cool kids know, "going commando" means eschewing underwear. I had another unfortunate flashback - this time to Junior High Gym class. Everyone had to shower after Gym in those days. For 12 year old boys that meant a whole lot of water sprayed about the locker room. The bell was about to ring and I still wasn't dressed. In haste, I dropped my trusty boxers on the wet floor and they were soaked. Clearly, that would lead to a difficult-to-explain wet spot on my pants. By necessity, I had to "go commando". Don't try this at home, kids. Rushing to get dressed, I neglected to check certain dangling body parts before zipping up and experienced the most excruciating pain imaginable to a pubescent boy. It was a tough decision between just leaving myself zipped in for the rest of my life and doubling the agony by unzipping. I chose the latter which was probably wise since those 26" waist pants weren't going to fit me forever. I have not "gone commando" since. Back to the conclusion of the Cottonelle commercial, The man emerges from a Porta-Pottie all smiles carrying a small bag. He announces, "I feel cleaner and fresher" and proceeds to drop his pants a tantalizing inch or so exposing a goodly portion of bare buttock. Choirs of angels then sing and lettering appears, "Go Cottonelle. Go commando." Take this advice from one who is still scarred from a "commando" disaster in 1960. "Go Cottonelle if you must. But keep the boxers." The "commando" idea certainly is a great product differentiation ploy though.