A few minutes ago I was waiting for my oatmeal-to-go in the lobby downstairs. A large banner, one of many in the aging Holiday Inn by the airport, detailed the list of renovations to come.

The copy was a textbook example of “what is it?” vs “what does it mean to me?” Aside from having some serious adverb problems, the banner simply listed the extensive changes the hotel is planning to make.

“The entire exterior of the building will be completely resurfaced with EIFS (Exterior Insulation and Finish System) for a more energy efficient, lightweight, and modern look along with a guestroom window replacement, landscape and parking lot beautification, and a modernly designed and newly constructed porte cochere to give our guests an impressive and welcoming sense of arrival.”

That’s a list of features, taken from a bulleted list of improvements that the winning vendor included in the proposal. It doesn’t really address the guests with what matters to them.

I’d prefer something like, “Our outside renovations are designed to make you feel welcome as soon as you drive up. We’re freshening up our grounds, modernizing our structure and redesigning our welcome mat. Plus we’re adding energy-efficient windows and insulation to keep you warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer.”

Here’s another example.

“All public spaces will receive new, comfortable soft-seating, upgraded furnishings, new carpet and wall coverings, along with a newly enhanced guest registration area and gift shop. Included in our lobby renovation will be a newly remodeled 24-hour business and tech center.”

Aren’t they trying to say, “Even when you’re not in your room, you’ll feel at home. Our new furniture and decor will make you want to get comfy and read a book, while the new business and technology center will provide the tools you need to stay connected”?

The point (besides the obvious fact that they shouldn’t let interns write copy that will be posted in inch-high letters all over the building) is that the message doesn’t pass the “so what?” test. Am I really going to be compelled to come back because I will get “new carpet, wall coverings, paint and a brand new in-room furniture package”? (And aren’t we glad they’re installing “new carpet” instead of just “carpet,” which may or may not be new?). Or will I come back because they’re making changes that will make me feel welcome, warm and cozy?

One other point, then I’ll let this go. By posting these signs about the upcoming improvements, the hotel makes those of us who are staying in the “old and unimproved” version feel a little gypped. Good thing the amenities are so upscale .

I’m starting a marketing analysis with a Baltimore company in about an hour, and I’m waiting in a pre-renovation room at a Holiday Inn near the airport.

The place ain’t so great. The only elevator took me to floor three instead of two (yes, I pushed the right button). The ice machine is broken. The desk is torn up, and the desk chair is an armchair that is 4 inches too short.

But I walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago, and I saw the soap. Semi-concealed in a little waxpaper bag, the lable said two simple words: “Aromatherapy” and “Face.”

My first thought? “Oooh… nice soap.”

Nice soap? How the heck do I know it’s nice soap? My mind, well trained from years of rampant consumerism, automatically associated “aromatherapy” with luxury. And the little wax bag (kind of like the ones that hold fried pies) just added to the upscale thought association.

Why do we do this, and, what’s more important, how can we as small business owners capitalize on it? I’m almost positive that the “Aromatherapy Face” soap is the same quality as the little bars that come in hotels that cost half the price. But the packaging made the difference, and we can learn from that.

Remember Calvin and Hobbs, the comic strip? Calvin was convinced that he’d get a great grade on reports as long as he encased his gibberish in a really nice report cover. That’s kind of what the soap label is… a really nice report cover. But I was fooled, at least for a moment.

Here’s what I learn from this: the first impression does matter… a whole heckuva lot. That’s why I create official proposals on letterhead. That’s why I printed out the agenda for today’s meeting with a colored printer and made copies of all the relevant materials. They’re all in an attractive report cover. That’s why I have glossy business cards and a real cover sheet for faxes. First impressions matter, and then we have to prove that we haven’t just sold the packaging without the substance.

Dear readers,

I’ve started this blog post at least 5 times this morning. Nothing’s coming out right, so I’ll just give a summary of the pithy pearls of wisdom I was hoping to deliver. These are all the ideas I had in reserve, so I’m tapped. Maybe read just one a day for the next couple of days in case I don’t come back with more posts?

• I was going to write about me changing my haircolor and the fact that stylists have begged me to leave my roots alone (and for God’s sake — step away from the bangs when you’re holding a pair of kitchen shears and a glass of white wine at the bathroom mirror!).The Point? Some things are best left to the experts. Unless you really have the expertise, don’t do your own taxes, website, logo or hair color. Investing in an expert is a really smart move.
• I want to book many more speaking gigs in 2009, so I started a marketing train in my head. Have to rebrand website, build new one, create clever postcard, write personal letters, get new database, start membership into National Speakers Association… The list became overwhelming, and I put it off and off and off because it was too big.The Point? Sure, you’ve got a great idea, but you might not have to do everything at once. I ended up crafting a 2-page flyer with session descriptions and testimonials, and I sent it to about 50 people who enjoy my stuff. Let’s see what that brings. The new website can come later.
• I just got the new Google Phone, and I was going to write a review (Post One). And then I was going to write about data management and creating filters so your email is organized because my new phone gets every single email and it’s overwhelming (Post Two). And then I was going to write about how the availability of things like the Google Phone makes us forget that we really don’t need a lot of toys on our phone. It’s a damn phone, for gosh sake (Post Three).The Point? Wait for the next generation of the Google Phone. This one’s a little clumsy. Use Google and Outlook to create email filters that automatically sort incoming mail, and filter what you push to your phone so your important messages don’t get lost. And you (I) don’t need the latest and the greatest technology to do our jobs or live our lives. Sure it’s cool, but having the ability to scan bar codes with your phone to check for the best price will not improve your life.
• Today is Mom’s last day of radiation. I can’t believe she got through it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so brave and so sick at the same time. Thanks to everyone who sent their positive thoughts.The Point? There isn’t one, really. Just thank you, and thank you, Mom.

To all my blog-following friends,

I’ve been skirting around the issue of the cancer in our family because I wanted to protect someone’s privacy. Last week Mom gave me permission to say what’s going on, so here goes.

Mom has been battling thyroid cancer for several years. We found out in August that … well… boy I hate actually putting the words down because I hope they’re not true. We found out that she’s losing the battle.

This is not fair. This is not right. This is 100 percent wrong. She’s got a cancer that they say, “Man, if you have to get cancer, this one is the one to get because it’s curable.” She’s supposed to be able to see her grandkids go off to college, and I’m supposed to talk her into doing the 3-day breast cancer walk with me. She’s not supposed to be sick at age 63. To say “this sucks” is just not nearly strong enough.

I’m telling you this today because she’s coming to the end of a heinous treatment she had to undergo so that she will have a better quality of life for a while. I can’t describe how hard it’s been to watch her go through these last few months. She has lost her voice, 30 pounds, her joie de vivre…. You get the picture. And the kicker is that this treatment will not cure her; it’ll just make the time we have a little easier.

So, Mom has 4 more treatments next week, then we hope, hope, hope she’s done. She needs all the courage she has to get through the next few days. She needs positive thoughts, encouraging words, prayers…. whatever is out there to give.

So, if you’re so inclined during the next week, push some positive energy our way. If you choose to leave a comment to this post, I’ll print it out and send it to her. And heck, if you want to send her a note via mail, write me and I’ll send an address (please make sure you haven’t been convicted of stalking in any state).

Thanks to you all for your support and kind words during this difficult time. And thanks in advance for your positive energy.