Customer engagement - long before social media
Sometime long ago, in an era known as the 70s, Mr Shadbolt – a purveyor of fine wooden veneers in Walthamstow, East London – undertook a simple marketing ploy in order to boost sales. Each week without fail, he would display the name of a chosen veneer on the corrugated façade of his factory overlooking the North Circular and declared it ‘Veneer of the Week’. Some veneers carried the mystery of far-off places: Crown Cut Lebanon Cedar. (Others less so: Curly Birch.) This continued for many years and gathered quite a following in the local area.
In 2006, an American by the name of Jack Dorsey was passing Shadbolt’s factory, no doubt drawn by the transatlantic appeal of the Brent Cross Shopping Centre (it’s got a John Lewis). Jack was overcome by the simplicity of Shadbolt’s message and decided to build an online space where all the world could post its messages. He called it ‘Twitter’. It’s a story with which we are all no doubt familiar. There’s even a feature length film expected in the summer with Jack Nicholson taking the part of Mr Shadbolt. “You can’t handle the Straight Grained European Cherry!”
… OK, maybe not. But in North East London and to those familiar with the joys of the North Circular, Shadbolt’s Veneer of the Week will mean a great deal and it demonstrates the effect that even the most basic engagement can have.
Growing up where I did, developing a familiarity with the “Norf Circ” was as inevitable as chicken pox or being made to think about what I’d done. But as unutterably dull and devoid of excitement as the North Circular is, during the stretch approaching Shadbolt’s the car was momentarily feverish with excitement. With our necks craned and faces pressed against the glass, more often than not it would appear only as a blur of red lettering and we’d turn to my father in eager anticipation. In a slow and appreciative way, as if smoking a Hamlet (which he normally was), he would exhale: “Aspen Cluster” – to which we, in turn, replied “Aspen Cluster!” half in wonder. Temporarily sated we sat back down and prepared ourselves for the next stop on the Sight-Seeing Tour for the Unfortunate, the Edmonton Incinerator.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realised that others like me were veneer aficionados. Playing football in my early 20s, any team playing away were duty bound to report back on the Veneer of the Week. I’ve since found Facebook groups dedicated to it, YouTube clips unsuccessfully trying to capture the magic of passing it and even a Guardian blog post on its 2007 demise.
Through the most basic of messaging on something as seemingly uninteresting as wooden veneers, Shadbolt’s (albeit unintentionally) managed to capture the imagination of the community it served and is still talked about with fondness today.
With a handful of letters and a twenty foot ladder at his disposal, dear old Shadbolt reached for the stars, or at least marginally above the North London miasma. Imagine what could be achieved through social media today.
Comments on this entry are closed.