Funding festival.

Lafayette, Louisiana's an interesting place, especially in spring. The weather's great and Festival International—the largest free French-language music and art festival in the region (perhaps the world?)—fills over five stages for four days of music and entertainment from around the globe.

And it's free.

Well, sort of. Festival International volunteers sell artfully decorated metal pins at booths that read, "Keep Festival Free". Proceeds from pin sales fund the festival, of course, and buyers proudly don their support for festival on their sleeve, collar, hats, etc.

Who ever said you couldn't turn ticket sales into a marketing engine?

For more information on Festival International, visit festivalinternational.org

Your attitude is showing.

This sign sits in front of a low-slung office building with moderate traffic and less-than-moderate parking issues. Because of its color, drivers could notice this sign more easily than the sign advertising the office complex, which is modern and blends with the decor.

I'm sure the message is effective. It looked like there were plenty of spaces available for the privileged parkers.

But is effective the determinate criteria for communication? And who is the sign effectively keeping out here? My guess, everyone. Potential lessees, potential clients ... maybe more.

When you consider a sign that simply reads "Private Parking" might accomplish the same outcome, one thing becomes readily apparent. This sign tells us something about the person who erected it.

Brevity.

If it can be made shorter, make it so.

Give us a name.

"Do you like it?" I asked. "Mmm, it just isn't right," she said. "What is it?" I asked. "I don't know really, it just isn't right." And she walked away.

From product reviews to channel surfing, human decisions are a mix of emotion with justified logic and a splash of influence, give or take. The resulting decision process often leaves us knowing what we want to do (intuitively) with only vague verbal justification. 

Our mission as communicators is to get specific, if possible. That's why names can be helpful. Asking our clients, colleagues and friends to name what they don't like (or like) about what we're doing enables us to work with their feedback, not just listen to it. Otherwise, we're left with vague, practically unusable responses — our client feels heard, but we can't do anything about it.

Sharp communicators name pieces of the process, product or service when asking for feedback. "Did you like the presentation?" or better, "Was the presentation artful?" will gain more useful information on a restaurant review, for example, than "Please rate your experience." Positive responses to the more specific question could justify a campaign highlighting the artistic qualities of each dish. Negative responses might validate assigning a chef to train on plating techniques. Whether the responses are negative or positive, it's all good because it's usable.

By helping us name an aspect of our experience, you get the feedback that affects change.

Obviously suspect.

I'm up early this morning. Though I'm sleepless, I feel compelled to make coffee. As I pour my first cup, I read the back of the artificial sweetener packet — GLUTEN FREE.

Seriously?

Somehow, someone thought this was a feature. For me, it's a bug. (The moment I read this I heard my sister's voice cracking a joke in my head, "Yeah, but is it poison free?")

In an apparent effort to make me feel better about the product, the labelers made me suspect of the ingredients (blogs are full of artificial sweetener criticism). I suspect this was inadvertent. But how many times are we over-promoting obvious attributes?

You've seen this before. It's a sign at a CPA's office that reads, "Honest Accountant".  It's the label on a giant box of candy that reads, "A Fat Free Food!" It's the furniture store commercial that says, "The more you spend, the more you save!"

Sure, it may be true. But to state the obvious might suggest otherwise.

The Chocolate Covered Cherry Effect

At age seven, I loved chocolate covered cherries. My parents, ever the attentive and caring providers, made sure I had opportunities to enjoy my favorite chocolate treat every Christmas. To this day, I still get chocolate covered cherries for Christmas.

So what's the problem? I stopped liking chocolate covered cherries at age 12.

The Chocolate Covered Cherry Effect can happen with our audiences, friends, family and clients. We found what they like. We give them what they like, when they like it. But somewhere along the way, they don't like it anymore ... but we never notice.

The effect underscores the critical need for generational approaches to messaging, with "doors" for each of us to define our generation. We need to allow our audience to tell us which generation they fit into.

A colleague is age 50, but are they an early adopter with an iPhone? Are we still sending them faxes? There's a chance they might be grumbling, wishing we'd just email their information. The candy (your message, product, service) we once provided was great, they just like different candy now.

Giving respect for growth can be as simple as asking or as complex as polling, but it's worth it. Otherwise, we're just sending chocolate.