Imagine a meeting of Major League Baseball team owners as they collaborate to improve their financial results. You're in the room. A scrawl of operating statistics covers several flip charts. Alternatives ranging from increasing ticket prices to cutting fan perks are discussed. But at the end of the 10-hour meeting, one option prevails: beginning next season, the pitcher’s mound in every stadium will be moved a modest six inches closer to home plate.
Great excitement follows. Owners can take the results to the bank, and players and fans won’t even notice! How? The executives figure that the shorter distance will make it possible to play a full game in just under three hours, down from the current average of three and a half. They reason that six fewer inches of throwing distance cuts the decision time for a hitter to swing, resulting in more strikeouts. More strikeouts mean less playing time, and less playing time means shorter operating hours for stadiums. (There were about 33,000 strikeouts in 2008.)
Eyes light up as numbers are eagerly keyed into pro-forma spreadsheets on flickering laptop screens. The thirty-minute per game reduction will save millions of dollars of operating expenses for every team. Lower labor and utility costs! Faster fixed charge coverage for expensive stadiums! The savings will drop right to the bottom line!
If you think the boundary-changing idea sounds preposterous, think again. This principle behind this imaginary gambit isn’t fantasy in e-commerce. The difference is that the boundaries are abstract and the money is real—to those receiving it. Want proof? This year, banks are projected to earn $38.5 billion in overdraft charges by shifting a long-assumed boundary called “I accept the charges.” How? According to a recent editorial in The Washington Post (Overdrawn and Uninformed, 9/22/09): “. . . from time to time, you may have found yourself inadvertently making a debit card purchase that exceeds your remaining funds. Alas, the way you may have found out about the overdraft was a notice from your bank, days later, informing you that you owe a $30 service fee. The bank just automatically floated you a small loan and charged you for it without giving you a chance to accept or reject the offer.”
Missed the boundary change? Don’t worry. Thirty-four billion dollars in 2009 overdraft fees suggests you’re not alone. The bank extracts money through a silent, virtual [i]ka-ching,[/i] with binary 1’s and 0’s flowing to complete the seamless transaction, absent the faces of Jackson and Hamilton. And that’s just the point. Customers don’t attempt to intervene because the experience fails to excite the same area of the brain that real money does—a phenomena that author Jonah Lehrer describes in his book, How We Decide. A small transaction-boundary shift yields a $38.5 billion reward—a sensational feat that now has the attention of Congress.
Elsewhere in e-commerce, changing abstract boundaries also keeps fiscal 1’s and 0’s moving from payer to vendor. Ever receive a charge on your credit-card statement for a "trial offer" you didn’t really want? It’s probably because you didn’t remember to “opt out” after you “opted in.” Was there a clear boundary for the transaction?
Opt in/opt out. It’s today’s tool of choice for e-commerce boundary changers. Remember Facebook's Beacon Debacle, in which a man purchased a diamond ring (for his wife?) from overstock.com, and 720 Facebook friends were informed about the transaction? As Christopher Caldwell wrote in The New York Times (“Intimate Shopping,” 12/23/07), “Facebook designed Beacon so that members would be able to “opt out” by clicking a pop-up window. But these windows were hard to see and disappeared very fast. If you weren’t quick on the draw, your purchases were broadcast to the world, or at least to your network . . . Privacy advocates urged that Beacon be made an “opt in” program, which members would have to explicitly consent to join . . . Facebook agreed to this approach. The Beacon fiasco gives a good outline of what future conflicts over the Internet will look like. Whether a system is opt-in or opt-out has enormous influence on how people use it.” No joke. And how much revenue can be generated, as well.
Of course, boundary changing has as much to do with our (presumably) private information sold to others as with the flow of money. Did you “accept” the data-collection cookie that resides on your hard drive? Better check the Terms of Use. “Increasingly, there are no limits technologically as to what a company can do in terms of collecting information . . . and then selling it as a commodity to other providers,” said Representative Edward Markey in August, 2008.
These examples prove that dollars can be taken and lost in the blurry zone between asking for specific approval to complete a transaction, and simply assuming assent for things that formerly required it. Whether it’s baseball or banking, with scalability, a little boundary shift goes a long, long, way.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Pfizer's Ethics Violations Hurt All of Us
"At Pfizer I was expected to increase profits at all costs, even when sales meant endangering lives. I couldn't do that," said John Kopchinski, the sales representative who blew the whistle on Pfizer’s illegal marketing practices of Bextra, a now-discontinued medication approved for arthritis and menstrual pain.
Mr. Kopchinski was fired from the company in 2003. In hindsight, he won’t miss his job. He’ll receive over $50 million from the US government for his efforts to prosecute the $2.3 billion fraud settlement from his former employer—the largest such settlement in US history.
Paying $2.3 billion for “fraudulent marketing" should cause every marketing professional and salesperson to break into a nervous sweat. Why? Because murky ethics aren't limited to Pfizer. They're amazingly common. They begin innocuously, then escalate. According to Mr. Kopchinski, what started as “aggressive promotion” of Bextra mutated into illegal practices. As he put it, “the ethical line kept moving.”
I’ve seen it over and over. Ethical risks are shrouded in code-speak: “we’re a ‘revenue-focused’ organization,” or “our company champions an ‘aggressive sales culture.’” Sound familiar? Anyone who doesn’t take heed from Mr. Kopchinski’s ethical-line observation faces the same risks. In Pfizer’s case, the problems didn’t begin with stereotypical predatory salespeople and percolate upward—they began at the top. Lies float, and so do corporate leaders who don’t set a good example--belly up. As sales effectiveness consultant Christian Maurer wrote this week on LinkedIn, “the fish starts rotting at the head.”
How can bright people working for well-regarded companies commit such ruthless dishonesty, when they wouldn’t think of robbing a cabbie at gunpoint—arguably a far less-heinous crime? By insulating the perpetrators from the victims. Here’s how (please see the embedded links):
Sales commissions: According to the NPR health blog, a “$50 bounty (was) paid to reps when they got doctors to add Bextra to the standard care for patients before and after surgery. These care protocols would direct patients to take Bextra, often at high doses, a few days before a knee operation, for instance, and then afterward to control pain.”
Telemarketing scripts directed to physicians: Salespeople were coached to tout greater efficacy and safety for Bextra compared to Vioxx, a competing painkiller from Merck. The US Food and Drug Administration never approved these claims.
Sales culture: OK. Let’s call it by its real name—intimidation. "If you don't aggressively sell your products . . . you're labeled a non-team player," Kopchinski said, adding that only by promoting Bextra for unapproved uses could he achieve management’s revenue goals.
You can see the evidence in clear black and white, and it’s all creepy. What was Pfizer’s management thinking? Caught with its pants down, Pfizer cut a check for $2.3 billion. Everybody—just shut up, leave the chicanery behind, and let’s move on! Problem resolved. But is it? At the same time that jolly Pfizer managers were gloating over PowerPoint slides showing escalating sales curves, people were suffering or dying from taking medications for unapproved uses. Bad ethics don’t get much worse than that, and even a $2.3 billion mea culpa won’t enable the company to sweep its dark tactics under the rug. A plan to sell cigarettes in elementary schools might have appeared more benign.
Which brings Pfizer’s indiscretions to the everyday salesperson. We’ve all experienced what happens when “baggage” is brought into a sales meeting. A salesperson is often considered guilty before he or she proclaims innocence. It’s understandable. Along with evaluating the performance and features of a product, prospects scrutinize a salesperson’s motivations and integrity. But as Pfizer’s deceit has shown us, prospects now need to look further, and to question whether the top management of a vendor's company has a moral compass. The answer to that question could reveal buyer risks that were previously unimagined.
For more on the topic of marketing ethics, please see:
Goofus and Gallant Make CRM Decisions, and
On My Honor as a Salesperson: Why Sales Ethics Matter
Mr. Kopchinski was fired from the company in 2003. In hindsight, he won’t miss his job. He’ll receive over $50 million from the US government for his efforts to prosecute the $2.3 billion fraud settlement from his former employer—the largest such settlement in US history.
Paying $2.3 billion for “fraudulent marketing" should cause every marketing professional and salesperson to break into a nervous sweat. Why? Because murky ethics aren't limited to Pfizer. They're amazingly common. They begin innocuously, then escalate. According to Mr. Kopchinski, what started as “aggressive promotion” of Bextra mutated into illegal practices. As he put it, “the ethical line kept moving.”
I’ve seen it over and over. Ethical risks are shrouded in code-speak: “we’re a ‘revenue-focused’ organization,” or “our company champions an ‘aggressive sales culture.’” Sound familiar? Anyone who doesn’t take heed from Mr. Kopchinski’s ethical-line observation faces the same risks. In Pfizer’s case, the problems didn’t begin with stereotypical predatory salespeople and percolate upward—they began at the top. Lies float, and so do corporate leaders who don’t set a good example--belly up. As sales effectiveness consultant Christian Maurer wrote this week on LinkedIn, “the fish starts rotting at the head.”
How can bright people working for well-regarded companies commit such ruthless dishonesty, when they wouldn’t think of robbing a cabbie at gunpoint—arguably a far less-heinous crime? By insulating the perpetrators from the victims. Here’s how (please see the embedded links):
Sales commissions: According to the NPR health blog, a “$50 bounty (was) paid to reps when they got doctors to add Bextra to the standard care for patients before and after surgery. These care protocols would direct patients to take Bextra, often at high doses, a few days before a knee operation, for instance, and then afterward to control pain.”
Telemarketing scripts directed to physicians: Salespeople were coached to tout greater efficacy and safety for Bextra compared to Vioxx, a competing painkiller from Merck. The US Food and Drug Administration never approved these claims.
Sales culture: OK. Let’s call it by its real name—intimidation. "If you don't aggressively sell your products . . . you're labeled a non-team player," Kopchinski said, adding that only by promoting Bextra for unapproved uses could he achieve management’s revenue goals.
You can see the evidence in clear black and white, and it’s all creepy. What was Pfizer’s management thinking? Caught with its pants down, Pfizer cut a check for $2.3 billion. Everybody—just shut up, leave the chicanery behind, and let’s move on! Problem resolved. But is it? At the same time that jolly Pfizer managers were gloating over PowerPoint slides showing escalating sales curves, people were suffering or dying from taking medications for unapproved uses. Bad ethics don’t get much worse than that, and even a $2.3 billion mea culpa won’t enable the company to sweep its dark tactics under the rug. A plan to sell cigarettes in elementary schools might have appeared more benign.
Which brings Pfizer’s indiscretions to the everyday salesperson. We’ve all experienced what happens when “baggage” is brought into a sales meeting. A salesperson is often considered guilty before he or she proclaims innocence. It’s understandable. Along with evaluating the performance and features of a product, prospects scrutinize a salesperson’s motivations and integrity. But as Pfizer’s deceit has shown us, prospects now need to look further, and to question whether the top management of a vendor's company has a moral compass. The answer to that question could reveal buyer risks that were previously unimagined.
For more on the topic of marketing ethics, please see:
Goofus and Gallant Make CRM Decisions, and
On My Honor as a Salesperson: Why Sales Ethics Matter
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