Law of diminishing retweets

I stop patronizing brands I previously raved about when they don't acknowledge my questions/rave reviews/retweets.  And, I wonder if others do this, too.

I realize I am just one insignificant consumer to them, but I expect more from a brand when they hang out a social shingle.  Isn't engaging in two-way dialog kinda the point?

For example, I made a switch to almond milk a year ago.  I'd done lots of taste testing and narrowed "my brand" down to two  brands, Silk and Pacific Foods.  I tweeted this and asked the twitterverse for feedback on which almond milk brands they liked best.  I hoped I would hear from Silk and Pacific Foods with some additional nuggets of information about their product that would tip my decision.  Neither brand piped in.  Their lack of interest in me spawned my lack of interest in them.  I reopened my taste testing and ultimately chose another brand.

Why be on Twitter if you don't engage?  Why pretend to be social when you're just using a different medium to broadcast the same messages?

In a big country

Australians know a lot about the US.  Their news covers far more about our happenings, our economy and our politics than our news covers of all other countries combined.  However, it's our pop culture that seems to make the lasting impression and fleshes out their perceptions of us.

Recent events have resulted in me suddenly being the voice of my people.  And, being asked to justify or defend behavior I do not endorse.  It's a big country, with a plethora of opinions and lifestyles.  It's been odd to see Americans through another lens ... one that lumps them into a single persona.

For example, the recent Colorado shooting brought the US lack of gun control to the fore.  I heard the phrase "all Americans are armed to the teeth" many, many times a day.  I fielded questions like, "how many guns do you own" and "weren't you afraid".

My personal feelings about gun control aside, I found myself offended.

"How does your politicians spouting platitudes and generalizations about all Americans being armed to the teeth help further along the conversations towards a real solution?" I complained to B.

Another example is religion.  During a visit with some friends of B, the conversation went like this:
A: "Are you religious?"
Me: "I have a belief system that is important to me, but I don't align myself with a particular religion."
A: "Really?  I thought all Americans were super religious."
Me: "I don't don't think so.  I think something like 80 percent consider themselves a certain religion, but don't actively practice that religion."
A: "Huh.  What about all those religious TV people asking for money and those guys picketing at soldiers' funerals?  They're a big deal, right? Isn't that what most Americans believe?"
Me: "Wow.  That's what you think about faith in America?  I think those groups are very vocal, but very small."

We're being judged by the groups that make the most noise.  Right or wrong.

My takeaway?  Be sure my voice starts getting heard and find a way to cancel out the noise of the vocal minority when they don't represent what I believe to be true.  Otherwise, the world will continue to frame all Americans by what the loudest among us says.

Sans brand

Grocery shopping has become a confusing quandary.


While it's true that much is shared culturally between the US and Australia, much is different. Gone are the familiar, comfortable brands with which I've spent a lifetime doing laundry or munching at breakfast.  Now I stand in the detergent aisle disoriented and distracted by the  exotic sounding names (Omo sensitive and Cuddly small & mighty).  


How does one choose a product when one has zero brand recognition?


As a consumer, my answer so far?  A lot of label reading and asking B.  However, time constrains both.  Oh how I long for the days when years of advertising made it easy for me to choose.  When I knew who offered what, I settled on "my brand" and I blissfully lived there.

And don't even get me started on "Tasty cheese".  I still don't understand how "Tasty" can be a variety of cheese. 


Fortunately, some brands cross the equator and merrily greeted me in the southern hemisphere.  Unfortunately, the product in the familiar box isn't necessarily the same.  I don't know what sort of deal General Mills made in order to bring Cherrios to Oz, but it was wrong.  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  A Cherrio should not be covered in a sugary glaze so thick one can hardly bite into them. 

As a marketer, it's an interesting study in brand identity and recognition.  Although I'm too close to the subject matter to be truly objective about it, when I can pull back a little, I find it fascinating that I relied so much on autopilot when selecting my purchases.  It also reinforced for me the notion that marketers need to capture a consumer when they're young.  Had I not been faced with the loss of all "my brands", I doubt I would have ever deviated from most of my original choices.


When B first came to the US, he faithfully read the junk mail each day.  I thought it odd at the time, but it makes complete sense to me now.

It's just stuff

I've always prided myself on my lack of emotional attachment to stuff.  I prefer living in open, airy spaces with clean lines and minimal chatzkies.  I've lived by the "if you haven't worn it in a year, get rid of it" rule.  And, for every new pair of shoes I buy, another pair must leave the nest.  Each time I move, I jettison a lot - either give to family or friends, or donate it.


The exceptions:
My books.  I love my books.  I love to see them standing tall on the shelf and feel their weigh in my hand.  I believe the books people read shape them as a human being in a way few "things" can.  Plus, they're a snapshot of who I was at the time I read them.  Each time I've moved, we haul box after heavy box of books.
My framed pictures.  More than scrolling through MBs of digital albums, the pictures I frame say "this moment (or person) is so important, I took the time to freeze it and keep in front of me".
My big, brown chair.  Pre-baby, this was my favorite place to read.  Post-baby, it went into M's room and was where I held him on long nights. 
High school parafernalia.  Yearbooks, graduation program, cheerleading uniforms ... all tucked away in a box.  I'm not particularly sentimental about them, but it seems wrong to toss them out.  And, periodically, the cheerleading uniforms come in handy as a last minute Halloween costume (yes they fit, but I'm genuinely horrified at how short the skirts are). 
Things people made.  I have a few invaluable items made and given to me by people I love, including a quilt my grandma made before she died when I was 14.


However, with an international move, one becomes very calculating about ones things.  Does the value of this item offset the cost of shipping a container (literally) to the other side of the world?


Too often, the answer is "no".


So I find myself parsing up the things that have shared my space and my life as an adult.  Some will go to storage, some will be given away to family and friends, some will be donated and some will be sold at a moving sale June 16.


I think it's the "sold" that bothers me most.  I want to assess each potential buyer to determine if they will love this "thing" as I have loved it ... and, if not, deny them ownership.  But I know that's not how it works.  Dollar values will be attached that don't reflect my personal value and people will scoop up bargains without thought to a "thing's" history.


And that's how it should be, I guess.  After all, it's just stuff.

Highway to the danger zone

Previously, I touched on the issues with Fessenden and how they contribute to making Portland a non-livable place for my family.  Due to speeding traffic and no marked crosswalks, I only cross it with M in off hours (Sunday morning at 7) when I am confident I'll be able to safely navigate the stroller.


An article on OregonLive today highlights the problem and the recommended solutions as proposed by a committee.


But as the advocates for the neighborhood point out, the proposal 1)doesn’t go far enough and 2)isn’t funded.  I’m skeptical anything will happen to truly alleviate the traffic and reduce the danger.


Besides, the proposal focuses mostly on industrial trick traffic.  It’s not just trucks, it’s everybody.  Cars, trucks, busses, police cars and bikes all race past as we stand and wait to cross.  Sometimes one driver will stop to try and let us pass, but the other lane of traffic continues to whiz by and eventually the stopped driver will give up. 


I see only two real solutions:
1.  Install traffic lights, forcing drivers to stop every few blocks.  I would be willing to have a little longer of a walk to use a signaled crosswalk.  Plus, eventually this would make Fessenden an undesirable through-way option for drivers.
2.  Have police officers placed every few blocks and site the drivers who speed or violate pedestrian right-of-way laws (after all every corner is a crosswalk, just enforce ORS 811.028).


However, I recognize both are long shots due to the current state of Portland's budget and the minimal sway many in the neighborhood hold (as outlined in the article) with the local government.  Alto


When I moved to St. Johns, I loved it.  It was perfect for blissfully, fervently single and childless me.  I was three miles from my office, close to downtown, halfway between sister #1 in the West Hills and sister #2 in Vancouver, and a straight shot out Highway 30 to my parents’ home.  And, best of all, the library, shops, the Farmers’ Market, yoga & Pilates at the community center, grocery store and yummy restaurants were just a one mile walk from my front door.


Walking alone, I found Fessenden annoying and troublesome, but now that I have M, I recognize how dangerous it is.  I have no idea how we would teach him traffic safety when there is no safe way to cross this street.


We're lucky that Pier Park is within walking distance.  We don't have to cross Fessenden to get to it and it's a beautiful park.  However, we're cut off from all the St. Johns' town center area has to offer.


As much as I wish it were otherwise, I keep coming back to the same conclusion.  Living in Portland is not a long-term, raise-a-child option for us.

Max Monkey and cigarettes

It’s a typical afternoon in the Singleton-Ratcliff household.  I’m working and B is looking at a book with M.  M is pointing at various items in the pictures and B talks about it, things like, "Max Monkey has a ball.  It's a yellow ball.  Oh look, over here he threw the ball to his friend. Nice throw Max Monkey."

Then I hear …

B: “ ... and here’s Max Monkey at the beach with cancer.  Here’s the sand and shells and a bucket ... ”

Me: “cancer?”

B: “Yeah. No sun hats, no Zinc, nothing, it’s ridiculous … we may as well be showing him 7-year-olds with cigarettes.  Hooray, a day at the beach with cigarettes.”

Me: “uuhhhh … “

He's not joking.  B takes sun protection very, very seriously.

Well, of course, you say ... after all, his profession is health promotion.  It's his job to tell us how bad the sun is for us.

You would think that.  But it's more than a side-effect of his career.  It's a life-long passion.  According to B's older brother, he took on the Australian model of smart sun behavior at about 9-years-old and never let go.

When I was growing up, we had "tanning lotion", not sun block.  Somewhere around my early 20s, sun block came into fashion.  In my 30s I heard advertising for moisturizers and foundations with sun block "to prevent wrinkles caused by the sun's damaging rays".  But, as far as I can tell, the US smart sun behavior is about 20 years behind Australia's.

Why?

I assumed they had higher UV index and greater risk to sun damage leading to cancer.  But, looking at the charts, this isn't true.  They're almost identical (just flipped vertically since we're on opposite sides of the equator).  In fact, the risk today in Portland is higher than Melbourne.

So, since no one else is giving you this information, I will.  Here's a sample of the education Australians receive from the time they are wee little ones:

Protect your skin
For best protection, SunSmart recommends a combination of sun protection measures:
Slip on some sun-protective clothing - that covers as much skin as possible
Slop on broad spectrum, water resistant SPF30+ sunscreen. Put it on 20 minutes before you go outdoors and every two hours afterwards. Sunscreen should never be used to extend the time you spend in the sun.
Slap on a hat - that protects your face, head, neck and ears
Seek shade
Slide on some sunglasses - make sure they meet Australian Standards
Extra care should be taken between 10am and 3pm when UV levels reach their peak.
For information on how to protect your skin from sun damage, see SunSmart.

Can you imagine if sun smart behavior was emphasized in public education as much as anti-tobacco efforts? 


**Update (May 12):
B: "I've taken a texter (Sharpie to you and me) to Max Monkey.  Soon everyone will be wearing a hat."


**Update #2 (May 15):
So we've had a "Very High" UV index in Portland for a few days now.  My efforts to persuade my coworkers to stay covered and shaded from the sun have been met with mocking.  Apparently, I'm an overprotective mother hen type now.  C'est la vie.  You can mock me as long as you still cover up people.

Noise cancelling

For a project about three years ago, my nephews' teacher asked his class to ask their extended family and parents' friends to send them postcards.  She wanted to get a collection from across the county and maybe even a few from other countries.  


He asked me to send him one and to ask B (still in OZ at the time) to send him one.


After he left the room, my sister said he would be over the moon if we could do it for him. He wanted to get a lot of postcards and impress the class.


I said I'd ask B and his family & friends and put it out to my network.


I asked a few people directly, then thought, why not put it out there on Twitter and Facebook and see what comes back.  I wrote one post for Facebook and tweeted it once on Twitter ... and I was blown away by the response.


Postcards poured in from almost every state in the US and from Australia, Norway, Thailand, England, Spain, Mexico, Canada, France, Guatemala and on and on.  They all read, "Dear G ... " and made one little boy feel very special and important.


When the teacher asked my sister how G did it, she said, "Oh, that's his aunt. She makes things happen."


That was three years ago, when my SoMe networks were smaller and very few people had even heard of Twitter.  So, when my brother-in-law posted that he was advising a group of fifth graders on their project to use Facebook to create awareness about landmines and asked people to "like" their Facebook page, I thought to myself "self, this sounds like a job for 'Auntie Pam', it's time to take it to the network. Easy peasy lemon squeezey."


I asked people on Facebook, Twitter and Google+ to support the students in their project and "like" their page.  I wrote a blog post about it.  Then I sat back and waited for the "likes" to roll in à la the postcard project.


Tick, tick, tick ... then nothing.


What? What went wrong?  Clicking "like" was soooo much easier than buying a postcard, writing a note to a third grader, getting postage and dropping it in the mail.


I have a few theories:
1.  I've put out too much noise to my network and they've stopped "listening" to me.
2.  Too much noise in general dominates the SoMe space and very little actually rises above it.
3.  People have become more skeptical about philanthropic requests coming to them through their social channels.  A consequence of charity burnout.
4.  People are more discerning and more stingy with their "likes".
5. ?


How has your engagement through SoMe changed as general population usage has increased.  What do you do to filter out the noise coming at you to get to the messages you want to receive and don't want to miss?  And how do you rise above the chatter to connect with your audience?