product.
( E VEN DEEPER FROWNS AROUND THE TABLE.)
BOB: Coca-Cola.
( S MILES, NODS OF RECOGNITION AROUND THE TABLE.)
CEO (
thoughtfully
): So, Bob, if I understand you correctly, you’re saying that we should take Coca-Cola—which is not only the most successful soft drink in history, but also the single most successful product of
any kind
in history; a product whose formula has remained the same for nearly 100 years; a product whose consumers are fiercely loyal—and you’re saying we should
change
it?
BOB: Yes.
CEO: I like it!
( N ODS AROUND THE TABLE; MURMURS OF “ I LIKE IT, TOO!” AND “ M E TOO!” AND “ W HAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT, AGAIN?” AND “ I WET MYSELF!”)
CEO: Then it’s settled! We’ll change the formula! I’ll call Research and Development!
( P AUSE)
CEO: Does anybody remember how to operate the phone?
Another example of a major corporation doing something that appeared to be clinically insane was the decision by General Motors—which must have an
enormous
executive conference table—to manufacture the Pontiac Aztek, a car so ugly that it routinely causes following motorists to go blind. I mean, OK, imagine you’re a high-ranking GM executive, and the New Car Design Group comes to you with a proposal for a new car, and they show you
this
hideous image:
Photography Credits
No! Sorry! Wrong image! They show you this:
Photography Credits
Now, if your IQ is a positive number, you’re going to look at this image, and you’re going to have some questions. Such as:
• Who, exactly, is the target market for this vehicle? Does research show that there are a lot of potential car buyers out there saying, “I want a squat little car with a
really
big ass”?
• What are we going to call this vehicle? The ButtMobile? The HunchCar of Notre Dame?
But apparently no GM executives asked these questions. Instead, they chose to spend millions and millions of corporate dollars and actually
make
this car, which they called the “Aztek,” which isn’t even
spelled
right,* 6 and if that isn’t scientific proof that executive furniture destroys brain cells, I don’t know what the hell is.
Or take my business, the newspaper business. I know many high-level newspaper executives, and individually they are all smart and wonderful people, especially the ones who have, for whatever reason, given me money. But when they get together to decide things, newspaper executives display the intelligence of soybeans.
Why do I say this? Consider:
For decades now, newspaper readership has been steadily going down. A major reason is that young people don’t read newspapers. Young people either don’t care about news, or prefer to get their news from alternative sources, such as the Internet, TV, cell phones, cereal boxes, skywriting, and other people’s tattoos. But whatever the cause, these young people
do not read newspapers.
As I say, the readership decline has been going on for decades. And over those decades, newspaper executives have tried many, many times to solve the problem. Unfortunately—and this is what convinces me that exposure to office furniture must be involved—they
always come up with exactly the same solution, at newspaper after newspaper, despite the fact that it has never once, not a single time, actually worked.
The solution they always come up with—after hiring consultants, doing extensive surveys, and holding many meetings—is
to appeal to younger people.
They always try to do this via a two-pronged approach:
• Prong One: Do fewer stories about heavy boring topics such as the world, and more stories about topics that, in the view of middle-aged newspaper executives, are of interest to young people who do not read newspapers. These youth-oriented topics include extreme sports, video games, hip-hop music, skateboarding, celebrities, tattoos, celebrity