Do not send to ask for whom the car honks...

It honks for thee...Or said another way, let's not sound the death knell yet for the automotive industry, even the American automotive industry, please. The ability of the ‘cash for clunkers’ program in the United States shows that something aggressive and innovative can move the consumer to shop – and shop for high ticket items – when the deal is right and there’s an environmental halo attached.

But if the category isn’t quite at death’s door, it does required some medicine more serious than the business-as-usual plastic surgery of new models and raging horsepower before we can stop thinking about that looming do-not-resuscitate order. Herewith, my fairly radical three-stage Rx to put the pedal back to the metal.

1. With car dealerships closing (and being closed by the manufacturers), let’s anticipate that there’s going to be some pent-up frustration on the part of current and new owners when it’s time to get the cars serviced and repaired. How to handle? One hypothesis is to reinvigorate the moribund gas station, which now makes much more on junk food and caffeine-based human fuel than it does on gas. There’s a well-trained and licensed group of mechanics, service and parts departments and car owners all being orphaned. Why not create a Match.com for station owners, mechanics and car owners – and bring about the return of the neighborhood, community (licensed and authorized) repair shops? One size wouldn’t have to fit all; rather one corner Shell station could service BMWs, while the Mobil across the street would handle Chevys and the Texico down the block gets the Fords.

2. Penske has purchased Saturn and has two years in which to find a manufacturer to produce the cars, once General Motors is out of the picture. My candidate for both manufacturing and distribution? Walmart. No, really. Think about it: Those big parking lots already dot the universe. Nobody knows more about carving costs out of a supply chain. In many cases Walmart already has auto centers on premise. Certainly the Saturn and Walmart personae complement one another sort of thrillingly. And, Walmart is global, so the Saturn brand would have immediate room to expand into new (to it) markets.

3. Take the current showrooms for the remaining dealerships and make them into Points-of-Distribution (POD) for like-minded brands. Those of us who have had to spend hard time in the waiting room of car dealerships know that no matter how nicely configured they are, no matter how many free donuts they offer or how intuitive their cappuccino machines, it’s still more like one of the rings of Dante’s Inferno than it is the “relentless pursuit of perfection.” Just as airports have become shopping environments for major chains, why not repurpose all that space into something that’s genuine fun or at least convenient for the customer – and a profit center for both car maker and retailer? Let’s have an Apple kiosk, a mobile phone store, even a shoe repair on-site. Why not a Geiko representative at the ready? Or a TD Bank rep?

I’m not being facetious here, but I also recognize that none of these ideas is going to be implemented tomorrow. What I do hope will happen, however, is that some drastic re-thinking is brought to bear. We’ve moved beyond the era of obsolescence arriving in every three-year increments. The cars being designed and built now are really very good cars at every price point and they are built to last. Prius and its followers have shown conclusively that the greening of the industry is not only possible, it’s happening. The impetus to the ‘cash-for-clunkers’ program was to get gas-guzzlers off the road and whoosh! They are gone. This market is responding and without the flop sweat that spewed out of so much of the industry’s spring and early summer advertising. The frantic desperation is gone – and it needs to stay away. Nothing sells like confidence and nothing shows confidence better than new, exciting consumer-driven solutions.

One of the trends we’re noticing here is the appeal of “inconspicuous consumption,” as when people make plans to have lunch at Fred’s, the restaurant in high-end Barney’s. They certainly look at the merchandise as they make their ascent on the retailer’s escalators and pause to touch certain items while they exit the store, but the conversation is about the food and the name drop afterwards is about Fred’s, not Barney’s. No telltale shopping bag, just a great “shopping lite” experience. A guilt-free indulgence in a social setting.

How do we remove the guilt-inducing agita of buying a new car right now? I can’t help but wonder if car makers should be concentrating more on substance and putting the brake on style changes for the moment. We may not want to telegraph to everyone that we bought the newest car with the newest look, but we may be willing to talk about elements of the decision that seem more ethical in this economy. Perhaps figuring out some “after market” enhancements is a way to keep them coming to the showrooms and buzzing about it afterwards.

A few thought starters:
• Better fuel economy and reduced carbon footprint, obviously. Are there ways to retro-fit some cars to maximize mileage?
• Safety? You bet. But not just seat belts, air-bags and television screens instead of rear-view mirrors. Why can’t we figure out a design solution to prevent any driver’s ability to drive drunk? What parent of a teenager or college-bound student wouldn’t pony up for that option? And what about figuring out how to block texting from the driver’s seat?
• Routine service under Warranty? Please. Perhaps even a satisfaction guarantee like General Motors just announced.
• And a repurchase guarantee to speed the cycle and retain loyalty.
But the good news right now is that we’ve miles to go and new promises to make and keep before this industry is put to sleep.

Mama, what's a sale?

Really, that's what my daughter Mattie asked me the other day as we were doing some back-to-school shopping. Her confusion was telling: In every store we shopped -- from major national retailer to neighborhood boutique -- there were signs above virtually every rack of merchandise.

What, after all, is a sale? She was under the impression that everything in the store was "for sale," so why the banners and rack toppers? I tried to explain, but really came up empty. Indeed, when everything is on sale all the time, why bother with the signs? Were the clothes last season's? Nope. Were they damaged in some way? No, again. Was the store going out of business, as several of her favorites had? Not this time.

You see it's as hard to explain flop sweat to a nine-year-old as it is to not notice the look of sheer terror in the eyes of the store's manager when someone walks by, considers entering and walks on, or comes in, fingers the goods and then exits without a purchase. The interior voice of "Why?" and "What could I have done differently?" "What about another 'today only' 10 percent (more) off?" seemed to dart darkly in the cartoon balloon above her head.

I was watching the end game of a process I did not particularly want to explain to Mattie. One best summed up by a former client several years ago: "One generation of marketers has addicted three generations of consumers to the heroin of price promotion." It's that death spiral that Mattie was noticing: When everything is on sale all the time, what indeed is a sale? It's sort of a post-modern, or at least post-economic meltdown, question.

We all know the reasons for the dilemma. What is beginning to emerge now is perhaps a pathway out -- albeit at tricky one. Today's edition of The New York Times (September 23, front page) offers the best clue: A study done for the French government suggests that we've had -- as a global economy -- a single-minded focus on growth of GNP as the best metric for judging the health of various economies. In the retail world, this translates into an unrelenting obsession with growth in comp store sales (open at least a year) vs. year ago. It's pretty much all analysts look for, so it's pretty much what drives the sector. And, it drives some pretty bad behavior which encourages topline growth (and aggressive discounting to achieve it) at the expense of many other intangible variables, such as store loyalty, shopping experience, and professional sales help expertise. Most horribly, of course, it erodes the metric that does and should matter: Profit.

So my modest proposal today: Change the metric to profit per square foot in stores open at least a year vs. year ago. Pause and consider what changes in behavior would cascade from that one change.

In my work as a marketing consultant and writer (Shopportunity!, Passion Brands), I've learned that the desired emotional response women want from a great shopping experience is to feel lucky. Retailers have taken the fast road to evoking that sensation: Indeed, we do feel lucky when we get something we want at a great price. But that's not the only way to do it. When we get the right jeans to go with our favorite tee-shirt, the sensational new shoes for the dress already hanging in the closet, the perfect suit for the client dinner, we feel lucky too. And the kind of luck which transcends price is the kind that serves as a breeder reactor to profit and with it an enhanced loyalty, store experience and salaries to pay fabulous sales professionals.

As our own situation proved compellingly, the right pink plaid skirt with the right shirt with the coordinating faux neck tie is a fabulous investment impervious to the presence of a "sale" sign. Why cheapen the experience when the discount buys you nothing and costs you much?