Dim Bulb

An Inelastic Snap

A barrel of crude oil has nearly doubled in price in the last two years, and retail prices of about $4 per gallon are around 50% higher than just a year ago.

And most people shrug and pay it?

This would be called a perfect example of inelastic demand in the parlance of economists, meaning that consumption doesn't seem all too sensitive to pricing.  Cost goes up or down, but folks -- maybe not all, but certainly a vast majority of consumers -- just keep on buying.

The media can't provide a rational explanation for what's going on.  Nobody fully accepts (or understands) wan references to China needing more oil, or America needing to swap pristine wildlife reserves for drilling derricks.  If supplies are really getting tight, why is it that not one expert predicted the demand? The vaunted mechanism of the free market seems to be in full catch-up, or reaction mode.

But to what is it reacting, exactly?  I find this lack of a clear, concise, credible answer rather incredible.

What's more amazing, though, is that consumers seem willing to overlook this oversight and, shockingly, continue to consume the stuff like it is going out of style (which it very well might be).

What does this tell us about how people make choices?

• We don't weigh options too well. So how many of us are driving less because gas costs so much more?  OK, maybe some people, but not many, according to the consumption figures (the oil companies are selling all the gas they can deliver).  As a 50% higher expense, you'd think consumers would see some trade-offs revalued, and perhaps change their behavior?  One trip to the mall instead of two?  Combining errands to a single journey?  Biking or walking instead of driving to a close-in destination?   
• We compartmentalize. What if we consciously considered that the oil companies will soon be doubling the money they charge us for the privilege of helping to destroy the planet?  Wouldn't that affect our refill intentions ever-so slightly?  Now, count all of the impacts of rotten traffic (delays, aggravation, risk and cost of accidents), and it's almost like we wear one "head" when we drive, and another when we choose to think about all those other things that supposedly matter to us (or that we consider a bother). 
• We really don't remember things for long. Weren't you pretty shocked and/or angry when you realized that filling your gas tank cost so much that first time?  I bet you felt less so the second time, and by the time you reached the 10th refill, you barely shrugged your disapproval.  When the newscasters proclaim that oil prices have declined a few pennies, should we feel relieved?  It just means that the cost may level, or go down slightly.  But does anyone remember...truly remember, as in an active realization...how cheap gas used to be?

Remember, I'm talking about the same consumers (you and me included) whom we hope will be aware of our branding, absorb and contemplate it, and then apply what we’ve promoted to their purchase decisions. 

Uh oh.

While the snap of this inelastic demand of ours for gas might sting, it isn't prompting a broad overhaul of our behavior that I'd expect (and wish) to see.   Bulbs brighter than I am should be talking about why.

Maybe the price has to reach some as-yet unimagined threshold (like the prices Europeans pay?).  Perhaps we’ll take action when we see the impacts of costly oil ripple through other industries (airfare is going to keep getting expensive; retailers will possibly start raising prices to help defray shipping costs, etc.).

But so far, it's just revealing how difficult, imprecise, and utterly confounding the influences on purchase behavior can be.

Logo You Don't

How do you feel about logos appearing on the shirts, jerseys, and sweaters of professional sports teams?

I guess there are really two questions to ask:

• Are they distasteful?
• Whether distasteful or not, is it smart branding?

We've seen equipment manufacturers put logos on their products since time immemorial.  Bauer.  Wilson.  I think I got hit in the head once with a Spalding-branded baseball (thank goodness the logo was printed, not embossed).

The bridge from that obviously legitimate to the slightly exploitative was built by Nike, followed shortly thereafter by the other footwear companies, all of them wanting to expand sales to other parts of athletes' bodies.

The one exception has always been NASCAR, where drivers have waded through their jobs wearing what a good CMO friend of mine calls "brand soup."  Outfits and equipment alike are nothing but billboards, and messy, crowded ones at that.

What has any of that pro logo-ing accomplished for sports equipment brands?  I can imagine it has helped them with sales: if my favorite pro prefers one protective ear-cup over another, well then I want one, too.  So it's really a marketing tool in this instance, isn't it?  It sells more of whatever it is that’s been logo-ified (I can't explain what the NASCAR branding accomplishes, other than giving everyone a headache).

But now we're seeing corporate logos on sportswear that has absolutely nothing to do with the equipment. 

What piqued my curiosity was the announcement that McDonald's golden arches logo is going to be featured on all of the WNBA team jerseys during the next season's opening week.

So not only does McDonald's not make sporting gear, but some might consider its product offering not altogether in keeping with the spirit of competitive sports, women's health or, well, ease-of-movement in general.  It's not like they're selling cigarettes or guns, but I don't know. 

And I understand that the Red Sox promo'd EMC’s logo on their jerseys during exhibition games in Japan.  Supposedly other sports leagues are thinking about similarly exploiting 

Driving all of this latest initiative is:

1. The failure of other branding outlets to offer any availability (see a lot of sports stadiums in need of corporate sponsors anymore?)
2. The ongoing challenge of proving that brand logos do much of anything other than get some exposure, and
3. The damn-the-torpedoes approach of pursing said logo placement anyway

Does a McDonald's logo on WNBA player uniforms say anything about the McDonald's brand?  Or is it just clutter...more visual "noise" that we consumers can ignore.

Or maybe when is McDonald's planning to announce its new line of women's basketball jerseys? 

Hummm...now there's a really dim bulb idea!

Hello, It's Me...er...You

I've been watching Lincoln Financial's "Futureself" commercials for a while now, and I want to like them even more than I do.

It's a really cool conceit: people at meaningful junctures of their lives meet themselves as apparitions from the future.  Two spots take place in hospitals (proud dad seeing his child for the first time; worried wife wonders if her husband will live), while a third, and the least interesting spot, happens when a rich older self visits his younger self sitting in coach on an airplane.

The ghosts of rich-people-to-be offer reassuring (and a little funny) advice to their less- well-off younger selves, and encourage them to be prudent planners.  If you go to the LFG website, a virtual sticky note promises to let the visitor "see your future," only that future is effectively to suffer a sales pitch. 

An agency called 22squared produced the campaign, and here's how its CEO described the work:

    "This new campaign is rooted in the principles of 22squared's friendship marketing model.  Our collaborative process with Lincoln Financial began with the realization that the social tenets of friendship govern the relationships between individuals and brands today. Lincoln Financial has bravely chosen to directly establish relationships with individuals as friends vs. consumers as their competitors often do."

Normally, that much nonsense turns me off completely, but I like the campaign even in spite of the fact that a "friendship marketing model" sounds like a second date along the path to Lovemarks.  It's all blather, particularly the comments about social tenets and relationships.

"Futureself" is a cool idea made into a few TV commercials, along with the requisite collateral marketing that we see all the time.  Here's how it could have been really cool:

• It could have been really funny or moving.  Like maybe somebody was about to make a real mistake.  Or the older self could have a limp because of a skydiving accident that hasn't yet happened to the younger one, yet he tells him to go for it anyway.  The copy for the spots was just too pedestrian, and it consistently defaulted to generic advice on financial planning ("my hair is on fire...yes it is, and it's fortunate that you have sound financial advice...").  Imagine your futureself given 30 seconds to talk to you right now; do you think you'd tell yourself some pablum about being true to thine own self?  Hasn't anybody at the agency seen "Back to the Future II?"
• The consumer challenge could have been more engaging.  The web site is a propaganda site with a nice entry point.  Instead, imagine if the campaign would have allowed consumers to, say, create their own "time capsules" for themselves down the road...this could have required registration, which would enable LSG to start a real dialog with them.  Maybe the challenge could have been to offer a small, specially-priced action -- say, put away $100, or something -- as a gift for your futureself, or perhaps your futurechild?  There are no obvious or simple actions promoted here...just lots of sales nonsense
• The social component could have been legitimately social.  Well, there isn't any social component to this supposedly social campaign.  What if LSG hosted forums for people to share their "what I wish I could have told myself" thoughts with others?  Perhaps users could create "top ten lists of advice" or, more playfully, "predict the future" surveys and contests

I'm sure there are lots more, and even better, ideas that would elevate this smart creative idea into a truly stunning marketing campaign. 

For instance, how about making the stupid company logo larger on the spots' closing screens?  Maybe an easy link to go to, or an SMS # to punch?  How about a challenge right then and there, instead of showing the inert, hard-to-read URL? 

Anyway, I'm sure my futureself would tell me to change the bulb already. 

The Ethics of Ethics

Consumers are willing to pay more for ethically produced products, according to a study published in yesterday's Wall Street Journal and the MIT/Sloan Management Review.

The researchers, both Canadian academics, defined "socially responsible" companies as those which are:

• Considered to have progressive stakeholder relations, such as diversity hiring programs
• Believed to follow eco-friendly practices, like using green tech
• Seem to demonstrate respect for human rights, so no child or forced labor in factories

Consumers were then asked how much they'd pay for, say, a cup of coffee from one of these "good guy" companies, and then how they'd price a similar cup from a socially irresponsible business.

Poll participants picked higher prices for the white hat products; ergo, investing in social responsibility is smart business, as it'll be rewarded by consumers.  In fact, they thought irresponsible products should make less, almost as a punitive tax for being evil.

If only market research were so easy.

There's an obvious, and often-times insurmountable difference between what people say they'll do, and what they actually do.  Usually, the former is influenced by absolutes of righteousness and justice, while the latter is the domain of circumstance and expediency. 

Asking consumers what they value needs to get correlated with how they actually spend their money, or the research is really no more directionally insightful than an entertaining cocktail party conversation.  Of course I'd pay more for ethical products.  I always recycle.  And I drive the speed limit, when I'm not taking public transportation. 

Now, to the details of the ethics issue.

I absolutely want ethical business to pay.  I think if most people knew how their clothing was made, or what went into Chicken McNuggets, we'd see revolutionary change in the how, where, and by whom many products are manufactured. 

But most consumers either don't know or, just as likely, don't really care. 

And what's ethical, anyway?  Kids working in a factory sounds to me like a crime, but when their option is to work in prostitution, or to simply starve, maybe the answer is a little more complicated.  Is it socially responsible to rely on electricity instead of oil, when coal fuels much of the former? 

Beyond Thou Shalt Not Kill and 9 other famously declarative prohibitions, ethics really reside in a definitional construct between people or, in this instance, companies and the communities they serve:

• From which they take employees
• With whom the rely upon for parts and service
• To whom they sell finished products, and
• Near which they impact, whether directly or otherwise

It isn't that ethics are relative, but rather that once you get past the broad rules, they're made real within specific contexts.  Kind of like brands.

As such, I wonder whether the value in social responsibility is for companies to recognize the attributes that matter to their customers, correlate them with what matters to the other constituents they serve (as well as to the management and owners), and act accordingly.

Maybe the opportunity is for businesses to fairly and truly participate in establishing and evolving said ethics in their industries. 

The more they rely on feel-good, generic definitions like the ones perpetrated by the Canadian researchers, the less likely they're going to reap any real pricing benefits from it.  Over time, I think businesses will get punished not so much for being unethical, but rather for being disingenuous about the entire shebang.

Ethics are an ongoing conversation, not a static brand attribute.  Can anybody say social media?

Come See, Remember Me...

If you want to keep your habits and behaviors private, turn off your Internet connection right now.

Search engines (like Google, Yahoo, and MSN) have been making zillions by tracking your search terms and teeing-up ads.  Now, ISPs are getting in on the racket, selling records of your visits to all sites -- along with such variables as time spent, purchases made, yadda yadda -- to firms that can crunch it all, and throw even better-targeted ads back at you.

So Big Brother isn't just watching you; he's selling to you. 

Welcome to "1984" as a multi-platform marketing event.

The data analysis firms, with names like Phorm, NebuAd, and Front Porch, make claims  that what they’re doing is actually protecting online privacy.  Complicated, branded products do things like assign random numbers to online trollers, and then claim to destroy said records after commercials have been assigned to them.

Yup.  And war is peace.  Love is hate.  And imprisonment is freedom.

We’ve always loved the idea of privacy more than ever actually lived it.  Life in your average little town was anything but anonymous.  Everyone knew everyone else's business.  Your movements, statements, associations, purchases, and even your eating habits were usually apparent to others, whether consciously pursued or simply stumbled upon.

In an era before crowds became segments, urbanization gave people a modicum of privacy, just as mass media swathed everyone in the same commercial dribble.  But most people's lives on this planet have been mapped and memorized by other people far more than they've gotten away with getting away from it.

So why shouldn’t we be either unconcerned, if not downright happy, that our every movement online will equip content providers to give us ever-better customized content?

Well, first off, check out whether your ISP is selling your behavior to someone else.  Click on this online test, which'll find a few (but not all) of the analytics that could be keeping an eye on you (and thanks to the New Scientist for the tip).

I think the danger arises when the Internet becomes the primary spigot through which we encounter and explore the outside world.  That troll through customized content could just as easily be seen as a co-opted, managed march, with search yielding not facts or truths, but biased opinion and commercials. 

Forget finding anything on the Internet when the ISPs, sites, and search engines are all in cohoots to find you.  While this is a wet dream right now for marketers, there's a chance that consumers could figure it out and prompt a loud backlash on protecting their privacy.  This could have a negative, er, effect on the efforts of we in the business of selling stuff.

In the end, the result could be consumers monetizing their habits and behaviors, and adding their cut to the money the ISPs and search engines are making.  So the margins get a little slimmer. 

Or...maybe people might just start turning off their Internet-enabled devices, and searching in other ways for information (at least anonymized search, for starters)? 

The times they are a'telling, and the changing isn't free. 

Virtual Ice Cream

Baskin-Robbins' new website, apparently in support of its new logo, begs the question that any company selling something dependent on senses other than sight and sound must confront:

What's the point?

Odor, taste, and touch just don't easily translate into the media of web pages and mobile phone screens.  Animation, cute typography, and any other artistic contrivance can't make up for the absence of triggers for the more tangible senses. 

Baskin-Robbins wishes otherwise.  Its new website is chocked-full of cartoonish fonts and retro-awkward graphics.  The new logo was clearly intended to capture the name and "31 flavors" references, while trashing any visual recognition in lieu of a more "fun" look and feel.  In fact, it turns out that BR now offers over 1,000 flavors, and it seems that every permutation is included in its site.

I just don't get it.  The company cut its calories on offering a bite-sized indulgence to a generation within referential earshot of the privations of war (or, before that, even worse).  The chain was built in the days when cigarettes didn't cause cancer, and dairy products soothed chest pains.  Fashion models weren't yet pencil-thin.  Probably most of Baskin-Robbins' marketing was promotional, and intended to drive people to its stores.

None of this history, or focus on selling stuff, is apparent in its new branding or website.

Instead of affirming a happier, retro past, the company has opted for a generically comic logo with no connection to, well, anything, whether past, present, or future.  The website throws gallons of information at a user, with no organizing principle or guide.  No call to action.  No relevance.

Baskin-Robbins sells lots of ice cream products.  This part, I get.  But I just don't care, since there are lots of other ways to get lots of other ice cream products.  And if consumers today are going to websites more often than they visit actual retail stores, what could the company do about it? 

Well, probably first and foremost, figure out ways to get them off their duffs and into retail stores.  Is there a Baskin-Robbins experience?  Heritage?  What could consumers get at stores, other than the chance to stand in line, get ignored by surly employees, or any other threat of today’s retail nightmare?  Providing this motivation should be the primary and very aggressive purpose of the site, in my humble opinion.

With that said, a secondary thing Baskin-Robbins could consider would be to use the web to address and promote the things consumers want to know .  The main real estate on the home page promotes various desserts concocted with brand-name candy bars.  I wonder if curiosity about flavors drives any visits to the site?  My guess would be a search for a credible, get-out-of-diet-free-card excuse for patronizing the establishment would be a nice starter guess.

Third, I'd chuck the new logo and go back to an older one.  The present tense of this business is grounded in the past.  Throwing that lineage away cuts the business adrift from any purpose, let alone relevance to consumers.

Pictures of ice cream are tasteless (pun intended), and the new logo tells me far less than the old one did.  Well, it all tells me one thing:

There's no such thing as virtual ice cream. 

Bizzaro World Ad

There's so much going on in this ad that deconstructing it is less a branding exercise, and more a foray into some strange and frightening bizzaro world.

Let's see...what’s going on? 

• The kids in the backseat are fighting over a technology toy that's probably supposed to keep them sedate
• Mom is literally steamed about it, and so focused on the problem that her eyeballs...now the size of other, um, body parts...have popped out of her head
• The headline tells us that the world is "overly caffeinated," and thus deserves a water brand that's "sensibly caffeinated."

So is the mom overly or sensibly caffeinated?  What about the kids?  Is this a before picture (so everyone needs more caffeine, however sensibly dispensed) or an after picture (after all, there's no blood splattered on the backseat, and mom's eyes are still connected to her eye sockets)?

Fortunately, there's a tagline along the bottom of the ad.  "It's how Propel does Energy Water."  Ok, maybe not so helpful. 

There's no need state portrayed here; nobody appears thirsty, and caffeine is only relevant to the moment in a negative way, if at all.  The imagery screams conflict.  The faces are all pained (check out the mom's Klingon forehead, and the tendon stretching-thing going on along her eyeballs a la The Mask).  Out the car window, the street is shrouded in a halting light, sans people or other signs of life.

This is a frightening picture.  Imagine the conversations in Propel about how the ad presents the brand. 

I know, I know, maybe its just an ad ad, not a branding ad, so it doesn't really have to make any sense.  You see, different rules apply to different definitions used by marketing departments.  So maybe the ad has nothing to do with the brand, per se, but is intended simply to break through the clutter in Newsweek magazine...in order to draw attention to the punchline, which is the product image (and the major ingredients bubbles) along the bottom.

Now I know that something exists called "Propel Invigorating Water."  Check.  And that is has caffeine in it.  Another check.

But having deconstructed the image, as it pretty much demanded that I ponder it for a moment:

• I'm scared
• I'm not thirsty, and
• I certainly don't want to do my shopping in the bizzaro world portrayed in the ad

If I'm a dim bulb on this one, what am I missing?

   

Muddled Story-telling

For all I can tell, news of the latest off moment in Microsoft's on-and-off, sometimes contentious courtship of Yahoo! is good news, not bad. 

The kabuki drama that is merger reporting in the business media would be silly if it weren't so blindly evident of deja vu, all over again.  Here are a couple of different ways to look at the story:

• Mergers are generally bad ideas.  Seriously.  Name a merger that was successful in the past decade or so.  Even if you could, there's not a pundit or manager who has been able to bottle the recipe.  So it's fair to say, at best, that successes are few, and usually highly circumstantial. The real news in the mergers business hasn't been so much the marriages as the divorces (Daimler-Chrysler) or rumored separations (Sprint-Nextel, according to the news this week).  So why isn't the starting point for coverage of the Microsoft-Yahoo! deal all about why it's likely a bad idea?
• The romance of courtship is deceiving.  Like other mergers, this deal has been described as having something to do with Internet search, online presence, ubiquitous software, brands, experience, life, the future of business, and life in the universe.  By giving us the play-by-play color commentary, the media accept prima facie declarations that would be utter nonsense if anybody actually considered them for a nanosecond. 
• What's the secret sauce?  Ok, let's assume that mergers can work, and that there are dependable reasons why.  What are those qualities within Microsoft and/or Yahoo!?  These factors would need to be expressed as complete sentences, with nouns and action verbs.  The details of how this will specifically and literally produce that outcome.  Failing to find this clarity is one main reason why mergers fail, whether in business or in love.
• Clarify the downside.  Most merger dances, like romances in general, never even get off the ground (look at all the serial dating going on in the airline business).  The proposed Microsoft-Yahoo! deal is no panacea for the problems they're facing as stand-alone business; perhaps more exploration of how they’re going to address those issues independently might shed some light on what/how a combined business might operate.  But think about it...neither of those companies have such a strategy, or at least ones that are known to the uninitiated.  This should be warning sign about, oh, 12.
• Stock value vs. brand value. The lingua franca of mergers is stock price, and the media coverage has centered on this measure of value (or cost, or opportunity, or however you want to spin it).  Yet this is a disconnect between most of the subjective language used to describe the merits of such transactions (see "deceiving romance" above); you can't measure brand with stock price, nor can you reliably commit to future performance based on branding.  So what's the value of a merger?  Nobody really knows.
• Inertia has its merits.  Innovation and load-shoot-aim are parts of the politically-correct blather by which businesses are supposed to operate in our 24/7, real-time global economy.  But doing dumb things is still, well, dumb, and Occam's razor remains a useful tool for determining the veracity, if not downright possibility, of a variety of answers.  So when you think about a combined Microsoft-Yahoo!, does a knowing smile break out across your face, along with a nod of understanding and approval?  If not, maybe there's something fundamentally, systemically wrong with the idea?

My suspicion is that this story is far from over.  I can't quite tell whether or not Microsoft and Yahoo! might be better off if they stay separate, or eventually get together.

Is it too dim of me to hope that the muddled story-telling will get clearer?

This Bud’s For Sumer

So it turns out that Mesopotamian hooch was the first brand.

It was 5,000 years ago, according to archaeologist David Wengrow, when the disparate villages of Sumer began to grow and trade with one another, that stoppers in wine bottles appeared to identify products by type and source.

Makes sense.  The Sumerians invented cities, juvenile delinquency, love songs, Noah's flood, and most of the other tenets of modern civilization that we assume are our own.  They also enjoyed their liquor.  Coming up with the idea of a logo to elevate a commodity to the status of a product would be just another example of our habits having first been theirs.

But was it branding?

Wengrow seems to think so, explaining that labels, along with what the ancients did in production and distribution, amounted to branding strategies. 

Makes sense, too, considering 1) there's no agreement on what actually constitutes a branding strategy, and so 2) anything and everything in existence could be considered some form of it.

So, following this logic, religions are brands (the cross or crescent are logos), as are nationalities (each country has a set of associative attributes).  People are brands, with the analogy applying to how we dress (packaging), the ways we act (outbound marketing), and our reactions to others (customer service).  All bits of communication are symbols into which we pour meaning, and, while our bodies exist in a physical reality, our consciousness lives in an imagined realm of ideas, emotions, and perceptions.

Maybe the ancients branded, just like we do.

Or maybe not. 

Maybe the analogy of branding is just an analogy; those illustrated bottle stoppers simply identifiers, and not an ancient approximation of "waaaaaasabi."  Semiotics and cognitive psych can be sexy (yup, if you're into those sorts of things), but, like all those ledgers of funerary items we got from the Egyptians, maybe people have always accounted for their lives based on far more specific, material criteria.

Makes sense.  While we can think just about anything about everything, our experience is founded upon the details of who, what, where, when, why, and how.  Addressing (or manipulating) this reality could just as easily be called, well, reality strategy.  And branding could constitute little more than the marks we use to label it.

The Sumerians may have been simply claiming ownership of their moonshine. 

Determining whether they were trying to accomplish something more might first require a drink.

A Smart Carpet Company

Luna Carpets, a local business in my hometown of Chicago, is one smart company when it comes to marketing tactics.

I’m not saying consistently smart.  It usually runs those shot-on-video commercials that rely on bad jokes ("honey, are you talking to the carpet again?") and irritating mnemonic phone-number jingles.

But a recent spot rose about the pile with a really smart conceit: double the value of your stimulus check from Uncle Sam by spending it with Luna.

Consider what the offer accomplishes:

• It provides an external purchase prompt. You can only come up so many buy one/get one bundle combinations. Just like car dealerships, most of this regular marketing is really about finding excuses to be on-air with a slightly different version of the always same offer, in hopes of catching consumers at the moment at which they've decided to look for carpeting (or a new car).  The rebate check offer is a variation on the "special insert holiday name here" sale idea, only with an intriguing twist: it anticipates that consumers will have money in their hands, and will at least question (whether for a nanosecond or less) what to do with it.  It's as if a seller knew that you had $20 in your pocket that was otherwise unclaimed by any other purchase, and could offer you the benefits of spending it.
• There's an existing value proposition.  $600 worth of rebate has value independent of how much carpeting it might buy; by doubling it, Luna is significantly extending that value.  $1200 worth of anything is worth considering, isn't it?  Further, the value prob offered by doubling the rebate has a cost basis of zero.  It's all found money.  So there's nothing really to buy here...it's as if Luna can offer customers over a thousand dollars' worth of free flooring.
• The offer presents an immediate action.  The ad offer flips the model of hoping to chance upon consumers contemplating carpeting, and instead uses the rebate check as the trigger for a next step.  It wastes no time telling people about its many styles, or directs them to a web site or phone number for more information.  The pitch is buy now.  And do it when you decide to do something with that rebate check.

There are things Luna doesn't do so brilliantly, most notably forgetting to mention the spot on its web site.  But it's still a very smart ad.

And, ultimately, when it comes to brand, does Luna want consumers to associate various attributes to its name -- quality, wide choice, whatever -- or does it want to be the name attached to the fact that lots of people shop there?

Success...selling things...is a great brand attribute, don't you think?  Who knew there were such bright bulbs in the carpet biz?