Rebranded

By the time her presentation was finished, Bethany could hardly wait to escape the conference room. In the darkness, her slides and comments had been met by quiet coughs and fidgeting. She thought she heard someone snoring. Finally it was over. The lights came up to some polite applause. Sitting at the head of the table was Darlene Feltzer, the manager of the Division’s digital learning assets. She seemed confused, yet thoughtfully so. Bethany knew that was a bad combination.

“Beth,” began Darlene, “that was a very nice presentation. Very polished. Very cute. But where was the theme? Branding is about creating a message. Am I right?”

Bethany grabbed her rising anger and held it in a death grip that was echoed in her white knuckled grasp on the table. “I think that branding is more about telling a story,” she replied, forcing a warmth into her voice that she did not feel. “The story we are telling with our current branding is that we are stuck in the Nineties and lack creativity.” A quick glance at the Division’s Marketing Team told her she had hit a nerve. Score! “And the new branding tells the story that the Division of IT is where you go to get answers, get help, and get things done.”

Darlene fiddled absently with a lapel pin shaped like a spider or crab. “I see your point, Beth, but I think you will agree that a web site has to be something more than attractive and easy to use. It needs logos, slogans, symbolism, emotion.” Each point was made with gestures of increasing emotion. By the end, she had nearly knocked her coffee off the table.

Bethany in fact did not agree with Manager Feltzer that a web site that was easy to use and attractive required anything else. Applied correctly, she believed the rules of good design produced sites that were works of art. If the Division’s site needed anything beyond these rules, it was less input from people whose apparent ability to stay out of traffic defied every scrap of evidence regarding their cognitive abilities.

“If I may interrupt.” All heads turned to the owner of the squeaky voice. Jill Collins of the Marketing Team continued, “I think Darlene is saying she wants a story that has more mass appeal. Something people can really relate too. I have a few examples. Can someone get the lights?” Bethany wondered if the woman’s bright pink track suit would glow in the dark.

For the next few minutes, the designer was barraged by something that resembled a curated collection of damaged artwork. An eerily beautiful black and white photo of an oak tree shrouded in fog was paired with the phrase “How Can We Help You Grow?”. The latter was displayed in a typeface which would be at home in a comic book and was far too small for the empty space it occupied. The only other things on the page were the Division’s logo and a place for someone to search for information. There were no links, no categories, no logical arrangements of information. Just a tree, some fog, a logo, and a search box.

Another screen appeared. This time an ethnically diverse group of people were standing next to a car, poring over a map on its hood. The tag line offered to help the viewer get where they were going, in the same unprofessional typeface.

Time and again, breathtaking photos and iconic images were on the same screen with terrible puns or clever sayings. The only constants were the comic book typeface, the search box, and the complete lack of cues for the visitor to know how to do anything.

When the torture ended and the lights came back on, Bethany turned her attention to Jill and her squeaky voice. Most of Jill’s career had been over before the Web existed. She knew everything there was to know about making an advertisement for a newspaper. She might have known something about making posters and logos for shopping bags. Her design talent, such as it was, did not extend to digital media. Yet standing there in front of the room of designers and managers, she was confident and unperturbed by the attention.

Bethany thought the woman looked like an animated character from a Tim Burton movie, or one of those dolls affixed to the dashboard of a taxi, head bobbing with each encounter with a pothole. Her head was far too large for her skinny body. Equally large eyes gave the impression she was constantly surprised or terribly sincere. Today, her huge mound of dark, curly hair was neatly held back by a ribbon that matched her outfit. If Pantone had a name for that color, it would have to be “Putrid Pink”. Bethany was sure of it.

In the ensuing rush of conversations, Bethany tried to mask her escape in a feigned attempt to start a conversation with someone near the door. She was just suggesting they step into the relative quiet of the hallway when Darlene’s voice cut through the rest of the noise. “Oh Beth. Do stay a moment. I want to talk about how you and Jill can work together to implement some of her ideas.”

She felt the anger drain away, washed downstream by the chilling tide of resolution. She was tired and in need of a massage. “Darlene, you are going to have to take this up with Cindy. I cannot commit to any new work without my manager’s approval. I was glad to put together a design and a few slides. Doing the heavy lifting on this project is out of the question with my current workload.” All of these things were said with the emotionless voice of one who knows she has been set before her final meal.

“Nonsense. I convinced Cindy to give you a clean slate last week. Don’t look so surprised. If you want results, you have to plan. Now, you two put your heads together. I expect great things.”

Bethany watched the woman go. Based on a casual glance around the room, she could have killed or crippled the manager nine different ways and still made it to her next meeting. She sighed and murmured a few things to Jill about how much she was looking forward to working with her.

On her way back to her cubicle, she typed action items into her pad. Darlene Feltzer was going to learn what planning really meant.