How to follow all the rules and still be completely ignored.
There comes a moment in every marketing meeting when someone, usually with excellent posture and a deeply reassuring spreadsheet, says: “Let’s stick to best practice.”
This is generally received with nods. Warm, sensible nods. The kind that suggest nothing terrible will happen, and more importantly, nothing embarrassing will happen either.
Which, as it turns out, is precisely the problem.
The Curious Comfort of Sameness
Best practice is a bit like beige. It’s reliable, inoffensive, and goes with everything, while exciting absolutely no one.
Over time, marketing begins to settle into a kind of polite uniformity. Headlines start to sound vaguely interchangeable, campaigns feel as though they’ve already been approved somewhere else, and brands slowly drift toward becoming slightly more enthusiastic versions of each other.
This isn’t due to a lack of creativity, but rather what happens when creativity is placed under scrutiny, it tends to behave itself and avoid drawing attention.
The Myth of the Proven Path
“Proven” is one of marketing’s most comforting words. It suggests certainty, predictability, and the soothing absence of risk. But what has been proven to work has, by definition, already been done, often many times, and often very loudly.
Audiences, meanwhile, are not static. They adapt. They filter. They develop a kind of quiet immunity to familiarity. What once felt fresh gradually fades into the background, becoming less a compelling message and more a kind of ambient noise, present, but largely unnoticed.
The Spreadsheet vs. The Slightly Interesting Idea
Safe marketing has a deep and enduring affection for spreadsheets. They provide structure, clarity, and a reassuring sense that everything is under control. They rarely, however, suggest doing anything particularly bold.
On one side, you have predictable outcomes, measurable steps, and minimal risk. On the other, there’s the slightly uncomfortable idea that might actually make someone feel something, something untested, a little uncertain, and just risky enough to make the room go quiet. Unsurprisingly, the spreadsheet tends to win. Not because it’s more effective, but because it’s far easier to justify after the fact.
The Fear of Being Noticeable
Here lies the quiet truth: safe marketing doesn’t fail because it’s wrong. It fails because it’s forgettable.
And being forgettable is far more dangerous than being slightly odd. At least “slightly odd” has the decency to be noticed. It raises eyebrows, starts conversations, and occasionally prompts someone to pause and think, “Well, that was unexpected.” Which, in marketing terms, is already a minor victory.
The Approval Loop of Mildness
The more people involved in shaping a piece of marketing, the safer it tends to become. This isn’t a flaw in the system, it is the system.
A risky idea gets gently adjusted. Language is softened. Edges are smoothed. Someone suggests making it “more accessible,” which often translates loosely into “less distinctive.” By the end of the process, what remains is a carefully refined piece of communication that is perfectly acceptable in every conceivable way, and utterly lacking in anything memorable.
And Yet, The World Rewards the Slightly Unreasonable
The campaigns people remember rarely come from a place of strict adherence to best practice. They tend to be a little different, a little braver, and occasionally confusing at first glance. They don’t always fit neatly into frameworks or templates, which is precisely why they stand out.
They feel human. Slightly imperfect. Willing to take a small step away from the expected.
And that step, small as it may seem, is often the difference between being seen and being overlooked.
So What Do You Do With This?
This is where things become mildly uncomfortable. There isn’t a tidy formula that tells you exactly how bold to be, or when. There’s no universally accepted percentage of risk that guarantees success.
There is only a choice.
You can follow best practice and blend in, or you can risk being a little more interesting than is strictly necessary. Neither path guarantees success, but only one offers the possibility of being remembered.
Final Thought (Filed Under Mild Panic)
Best practice isn’t the enemy. It’s just incomplete.
It tells you what has worked before, but it doesn’t tell you how to make someone stop, pay attention, and actually care.
And in a world where attention is fleeting and curiosity is fragile, playing it safe may be the riskiest move of all.
Are you following best practice because it works, or because it’s the safest way to avoid standing out?
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