I just bought the URL, www.futilemarketing.com.
I’m not planning on turning it into another website, nor am I planing to launch a new business called “Futile Marketing”. It’s just a name I very much wanted to own.
Why? Because “Futility”, as a marketing strategy, is an idea that’s currently fascinating me.
Conventional Wisdom dictates, if you’re trying to market something, the last thing you want your marketing campaign to be is “An Act of Futility”.
But… are you REALLY sure about that?
I was thinking recently how most of the stuff I’m most proud of, started off as acts of futility.
-Drawing cartoons on the back of business cards started off as an act of futility.
-Getting an English tailor to blog in the hope of selling more $5,000 suits started off as an act of futility.
-Launching a national UK supermarket wine via the blogosphere started off as an act of futility.
-Getting Microsoft to re-think about who they are using nothing but a single cartoon started off as an act of futility.
-Choosing a highly irritating puppet to launch a major new French wine started off as an act of futility.
-Convincing one of the most respected publishers in the world to turn a blog post into a hardcover book started off as an act of futility.
–Getting West Texas cowboys to start drinking South African wine started off as an act of futility.
And if you think about it, the world is full of other, similar examples.
-Getting people to pay $4 for a cup of coffee started off as an act of futility.
-Getting people to give up their horses en masse in exchange for an internal combustion engine started off as an act of futility.
-Getting people to pay for software without any hardware attached to it started off as an act of futility.
-Building a multi-million dollar cottage industry using nothing but blog advertising started off as an act of futility.
-Writing a children’s book about wizards in an Edinburgh coffee shop started off as an act of futility.
-Trying to halt the Nazi invasion using nothing but Spitfires started off as an act of futility.
-Stopping the largest army the world had ever seen with just a small phalanx of 300 Spartans started off as an act of futility.
-Trying to blow up the Death Star using nothing but thirty X-Wing fighters started off as an act of futility.
-Convincing the USA to elect an African-American as their President started off as an act of futility.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking…?
Yes, I am thinking that. I’ve been using something similar since my teens.
It’s the “Mom thinks it’ll never work” method.
The motivation of proving Mom wrong makes it that much more fun.
Great list. The Hurricane was the quintessentially futile weapon that held its own in the Battle of Britain.
I hate to sound like a buzz-kill, Hugh, but none of the acts that you cite were really futile. They all had a result, although maybe not one that was predicted.
A futile act is one that is pointless – an act that has no possible positive outcome. Yet all of the acts that you cite had a point to begin with, but turned out to be the cause of something completely different and unintentional.
It’s not really an ‘act of futility’ if there was a positive result in the end, regardless of what the result was.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m totally picking up what you’re layin’ down, I’m just not sure that ‘futile’ is the right word for what you’re getting at.
I would posit that you’re after something closer to ‘collateral marketing’ (domain is still available, BTW).
Seems like the realization of the single most inspiring bit of HTBC – “Don’t try to stand out from the crowd – avoid crowds entirely”
word
yep, wrote a big post about it earlier today, uncannily (“don’t follow the money…”) Rock on, as you say š
That that last one about US President didn’t match the rest, but you want buy in from those hope-change buzzfolks so run with it Hugh.
@ Anthony David. Yep, the Hurricane did the work, the Spitfire got the girls š
@Thomas I was writing about “Hope & Marketing” LONG before most people had heard of Obama.
Depends. If you’re thinking “[that] Resistance is futile” then yes, I am thinking what you are thinking.
Maybe acts that start in futility and end up yielding results should retrospectively be said to have started from an act of fruitility.
Loving the futile vibe – big connection for me with the idea that, in life and in business, it’s the seemingly unimportant conversations that become the important ones over the long term. Or as the saying goes: you are what you eat, but it’s your last 1000 meals that count
I like your thought process, Hugh. But one I think will not make your list is : “Decide to advertise your product in Green Bay without a Packer endorsement”
There’s no way to know if I’m thinking what you’re thinking, but I love looking at the pictures of what you’re thinking. Reading what you’re thinking is pretty great too! I’m glad I’ve subscribed.
Mike (third comment): I think it’s understood by most people who read this post that “futile” is poetic shorthand for “seemingly futile”.
I think you’re right, Mike (third comment) š
Yes, I kind of get the point Hugh. And there is something about realising it’s futile and doing it anyway.
Technically the examples you mention are (as others have said) ‘seemingly futile’. But the point is that, at their inception, they appeared futile.
In fact most marketing is (statistically) futile because it doesn’t work (at least as the textbooks would have you believe). So the answer is to try things and have fun with them – in the expectation of their almost certain futility.
Then look back in a few years’ time to note, with some surprise, that a few worked!
Now, about that book idea…
You remind me of Bruce Mau:
“Keep moving.The market and its operations have a tendency to reinforce success. Resist it. Allow failure and migration to be part of your practice.”
Sometimes you have to take the ring and head out on the path, even when the ending is most likely firey doom.
[…] I’m going to do it anyway 9 06 2010 It’s been done before, by others better than you. Besides, what the heck do you think you know about words, music, blogging, basketball, and what was the thing you got into after med school? Ah yes, “marketing”. Who’re you kidding? As if you’d have anything to say that’d be of value. You’re a phony, a fraud; a college dropout who can’t finish anything. What makes you think you’ll go the distance on this one? That you’ll stick with it longer than your 137 previous embarrasments. I can’t even call them failures. And yes, I’m aware of The Dip, of pushing through, of Dyson’s 5,126 experiments, Edison’s 10,000 trials and your silly little riff on racking up 10,000 failures on your way to a breakthrough. I know you. Everything about you. And you’re just not them. Godin, Edison, Dyson, Branson. You’re a rehash, and a poor one at that. You’re not normal. You’re not special, haven’t got any superpowers, and don’t even have a useful qualification to fall back on. Face the facts. You’re a lazy day-dreaming loser who talks a great game but doesn’t have a great game. Face it David or whatever it is you call yourself now. “Sali”. Your family was right. Your friends were right.Ā Your teachers were right. Quit your delusions of grandeur and get back in line with the way things work in the real world. Remember, I know you. I am you. And as harsh as you may think I am, I’m only looking out for your good. And there’s absolutely no way this silly spoonerised web-thingy of yours will amount to jack-all. There is no tribe for you to lead. There is no difference for you to make. You screwed up leaving the medical thing with no qualifications to your name. Everything about you is phony. And frankly this savedali thing is just another waste of time… Ā Me: You’re right. And I’m going to do it anyway. […]