On a train the other day, a man is talking on his mobile phone about a business partner. It’s hard not to overhear the conversation, because the man is talking in that strange way that people have on a mobile phone, as if there is nobody else in the same county. He’s discussing a business opportunity, and in particular one of the key individuals involved, by name.
My partner Lesley is one of the others on the train. She is sitting with a friend, and both are working on their laptops. As the overheard conversation continues, and starts to reveal some things that perhaps ought to be confidential, the friend twists his laptop screen around so that Lesley can see it. On screen is her friend’s Outlook contact information for the person being discussed. Lesley has her 3G card, so is able to look up the person on LinkedIn at the same time.
The world isn’t just small any more, you can actually fit quite a lot of it into a railway carriage.
On a train this morning, a mobile phone rings. There is a collective intake of breath. The ring tone is the unmistakeable sound of a hunting horn.
The sound has lasted no longer than it takes to remove a handset from a handbag. In that time, forty people have formed their opinion about the owner of the phone. It’s a polarising sound – some thinking “one of us”, others thinking “one of them”, and not everyone thinking nice thoughts about hunting and hunters. Guessing from the age and dress of the owner, I’d say they just thought it was a helpfully distinctive ringtone.
How good would it be if you could position yourself or your brand with such speed and economy of effort? That’s why so many television adverts use well-known music as a backing, as a carrier for the idea. It’s why television stations spend so much money on station idents. Yet the ident doesn’t mean anything until it has had time to build its own story.
What sound could you use to support and explain your brand? What’s your ringtone?