How Sloppy Presentation Kills Credibility

Organizations tend to extremes when it comes to the presentation aspect of marketing communications. Some obsess on it to the point of overlooking other important needs—like having something compelling to present. But many others seem to believe, like the woman who went to an executive job interview in flip-flops (true story), that people will dig for the diamond beneath the rough. That sounds nice and egalitarian—substance over style and all; trouble is, it’s delusional.

Presentation is one of the key components of credibility (and thus, one of 10 factors we analyze for the Thinkshift Credibility Quotient™). Ample research with website users, for example, shows that people make snap judgments about a company’s credibility based on its site’s design and usability. Note “usability”; people often get caught up in how something looks, but that’s only one aspect of presentation. A credible communication gets all these things right:

  • An aesthetic that’s appropriate for your industry and market.
  • Accessible information. If I’m looking for information about sustainability, or about a particular product’s qualities, can I find it easily?
  • Appropriate materials. If the communication is making sustainability claims, does it use appropriate materials? Any print collateral, for example, should use the lowest-impact materials and processes possible. This applies to packaging, too. Excess or high-impact packaging on a sustainable product undermines the product.
  • Writing quality. Overall, is the communication clear? Do individual statements make sense? Was it proofread? (Yes, I do need to make this point; see “flip-flops” above.)

Sloppy presentation communicates a sloppy approach overall; strong presentation lays a foundation for trust.

Survey Says: More About the Questioners Than the Respondents

Do a survey about attitudes on any sustainability topic and it will get reported. And commented upon. And tweeted and retweeted. Everyone’s looking for insights on the cultural moment—or something that looks like insights because it has a number attached to it.

But what do surveys (about sustainability or anything else) really tell us? More and more I think, not as much about the people answering the survey as about the people constructing it. Case in point: a recent Rasmussen Reports survey finding that 47 percent of Americans reject the idea that they are selfish for putting economic concerns ahead of the fight against global warming.

What struck me was not the result—hardly a shock, since people don’t like to think of themselves as selfish—but the assumption behind the question: it’s the climate vs. the economy. This is a trope of anti-environmentalism, so perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising, but it’s particularly wrong-headed in this case, since multiple reputable examinations of the issue have found that not addressing climate change is far more costly than acting to curb it. When you know that, the question makes no sense.

Twenty-four percent said they weren’t sure—which reminded me that just about every time I’ve been surveyed, I’ve been asked at least one question I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t have an opinion on the issue, but because I rejected the premise of the question.

If you’re conducting a survey and want an honest read on what people are thinking, it’s essential to examine the assumptions behind your questions. Are you closing off the possibility of opinions that don’t conform to your perceptions? And when you’re evaluating survey data, it pays to think as carefully about the questions as you do about the answers. Whose opinion is being reflected here?

What Green College Rankings Reveal

Sierra Magazine has released its annual “Cool Schools” environmental rankings of U.S. colleges and universities. Their rating appears to be just that—an assessment of the school’s green hip factor. At least, that’s what I’m left to guess. The magazine based its ratings on questionnaires sent to the schools and doesn’t disclose many details about how it evaluated the answers.

A comparison of the top 10 rankings from all three years Sierra has ranked these institutions shows the ratings aren’t consistent, either. Only two—Middlebury and Oberlin—made the top 10 all three years. Yale, a model of sustainability, has never hit the top of the list (it’s #14 this year). And Warren Wilson, a school that lives and breathes environmentalism, ranked #3 in 2007 but dropped to #18 this year.

As a result, it’s not very credible, even though the Sierra Club is a highly respected organization. (Full disclosure: I’m a member.)

Part of this can be explained by the explosion of schools that are making sustainability a priority. There are simply lots more colleges and universities making green claims. Now more than ever, those that communicate best about their programs—providing full information, with clear measures of success—will get the recognition.

I’ve found that educational institutions are uncomfortable about trumpeting their work generally and about marketing in particular. But they shouldn’t be. There’s a lot at stake. Both parents and prospective students care a lot about whether a school is green, with two-thirds of them saying the it would influence their decision to apply or attend, according to Princeton Review’s 2009 “College Hopes and Worries” survey.

Bad Language: Why ‘Consumer’ Should Get the Boot

I like to work myself into a good froth before posting one of an occasional series of rants on words and phrases that make me want to spit nails. And I’m finally there on consumer, used to identify a person or people (as opposed to business jargon for a market sector).

In fact, I’ve stewed over this one so long others have beat me to it (see Joseph Romm in Grist). But consumer deserves a pile-on. As in, “Consumers value convenience above all else.”

Well yes, consumers would. But would citizens? Parents? Community members? Patriots? Environmentalists/sports fans/gardeners/name your identity here? The use of the word “consumers” to identify people at all times in all contexts encourages us to think of ourselves—and each other—as nothing more than engines of consumption. It frames our view on problems and solutions in a way that narrows the perspective to purely personal concerns (often amounting to unexamined habits) and positions us as passive recipients of whatever’s out there—we can accept or reject, but not direct.

A sentence like “Consumers care more about perceived effectiveness and than about exposing their household to hazardous chemicals” will be accepted as a truism. Yeah, consumers are like that. Would the sentence “Parents care more about perceived effectiveness and than about exposing their household to hazardous chemicals” seem quite as commonsensical? I’m going to say no.

I’m also going to take a vow: I will never again use the word consumer to refer to a person or people. (I admit it, I’ve done it.) And at the risk of sounding preachy, I think everyone who writes or talks about sustainability issues should do the same. The words we use to describe things affect how we see them. And even when we’re shopping—perhaps especially when we’re shopping—we need to stop seeing ourselves as simply creatures who buy things.

Help for Communicating Science Is on the Horizon

I just learned about Randy Olson’s forthcoming book, Don’t Be Such a Scientist: Talking Substance in an Age of Style, due out in September from Island Press. (Thanks to Andrew Revkin’s excellent NY Times DotEarth post on communicating climate change.)

Olson wants scientists to be able to tell their stories to the rest of us. I can’t wait to see what he has to say. Here are the chapter titles:

  • Don’t Be So Cerebral
  • Don’t Be So Literal Minded
  • Don’t Be Such a Poor Storyteller
  • Don’t Be So Unlikeable
  • Be the Voice of Science!

You can find out more on the book’s website. Olson is a filmmaker with a Ph.D. in marine biology and a master’s in filmmaking from the USC film school. He  co-founded The Shifting Baselines Ocean Media Project, a partnership between scientists and Hollywood to communicate the crisis facing our oceans. His films include Flock of Dodos: The Evolution-Intelligent Design Circus (2006; seen at the Tribeca Film Festival) and Sizzle: A Global Warming Comedy (2008).

While we’re on the subject, scientists (and anyone else in a technical field) could also take a lesson from Elizabeth Kolbert, who writes eloquently and plainly about matters environmental for the New Yorker. Her  latest book (highly recommended), Field Notes from a Catastrophe (2006), is about global warming.

Finally, please patronize your local independent bookstore or public library.