Month: July 2025

 

At one of our recent C Suite Leaders Meet that our organisation ISD Global curates every three to four months both in Dubai and India, a very accomplished and senior leader came up to me and whispered ” Everything here is optimised for output. But nothing here is designed for imagination “. She sounded more than a bit disappointed at the mindset prevalent in her organisation. This came at the end of my fireside chat that I had with brand guru Harish Bijoor where we tossed the conversation around Unmarketable is the New Unforgettable for brands and the need for today’s CEO to be actually a Chief Emotion Officer, at home delivering goosebumps for his customers as much as being on the slippery slope of stakeholder inquiry.

 

Odd as it might sound, but let me tell you there is some science behind this and where it gets scientifically fascinating: companies, like brains, can rewire themselves. But optimisation thinking creates neural pathways that strengthen existing connections. Imagination thinking creates entirely new neural networks.

 

Optimization asks: “How can we do this 10% better?” Imagination asks: “What if this didn’t need to exist at all?”

 

Consider Zoom’s approach during the pandemic. While other video conferencing platforms optimized for enterprise features and security protocols, Zoom imagined a world where a grandmother could host her birthday party with family across six continents—and make it as simple as clicking a link.

 

Result: Zoom became a verb.

 

And why this matters more than ever is because in a world where AI algorithms can churn out mass content, factories can spit out identical products by the million, and quarterly targets devour creativity—output obsession is a disease. Brands that confine themselves to rigid metrics inevitably trade soul for spreadsheets. Meanwhile, those who dare to design for imagination unlock new realms of innovation, emotional connection, and long-term growth.

 

Some of the wake-up calls most of us would instantly identify with include – Remember Kodak? Optimizing output meant cranking out film rolls at scale—but they ignored the imaginative leap into digital photography. Result? Extinction.

 

Or think of Nokia—masters of efficiency and output, they missed the smartphone imagination wave and lost billions.

 

These are cautionary tales screaming: Output without imagination kills relevance.

 

The output trap is where efficiency eats into your soul. Look around. The corporate world is drowning in a sea of sameness. Which is the reason why we get generic mission statements that sound like AI calibrated horoscopes. ” Disruptive” campaigns that disrupt nothing but attention spans. Vanilla branding that blends into the background like elevator music

 

Amul succeeded not because they churned out more butter faster but by injecting imagination into every ad, every product tweak, every community initiative—turning a brand into a cultural ethos.

 

Apple famously trades incremental output for revolutionary products. The iPhone wasn’t about producing a better phone faster; it was about reimagining communication itself.

 

Tesla does not obsess over conventional car production volumes; it fuels imagination to redefine electric mobility and energy storage.

 

Zomato evolved from being a delivery app optimized for output to a lifestyle ecosystem designed with imaginative user experiences and hyper-personalization.

 

Let us not overlook the fact that mediocrity is fully booked.

 

If the word “innovation” shows up more on your PowerPoint than it does in your product or process — you’re not innovating. You’re powerpointing.

 

And if your team spends more time measuring performance than imagining possibility, then congratulations — you’re in the business of producing outputs, not creating breakthroughs.

 

Imagination doesn’t need a massive R&D budget. It needs audacity, permission, and a healthy disrespect for “the way things have always been done.”

 

Output is Linear. Imagination is Liminal.

 

Zerodha reimagined stockbroking from a geek’s garage. boAt turned earphones into fashion statements. Phool.co turns temple waste into luxury incense and leather substitutes. Paper Boat imagined nostalgia as a drinkable asset class. Netflix designed for imagination. Airbnb imagined homes without hospitality degrees. Patagonia imagines capitalism with conscience.

 

Permit me a bit of purposeful provocation here. As a brand or organisation do you punish failures or reward bold hypothesis?  Are your processes designed to sustain status quo or provoke surprise?

 

Imagination is a strategy and dare I add, the next big competitive advantage.

 

In a world where AI can optimise faster than any human, your only unfair advantage is imagination. You don’t outspend your competition. You out-dream them. You don’t outproduce the market. You outimagine it.

 

In the see-saw between output and imagination, imagine what the iconic management guru Tom Peters would have asked us to accomplish: KPIs & OKRs to Wild Cards and What Ifs; ROI(Return on Investment) to ROE(Return on Enchantment); Design Thinking Workshops to Design Thinking Retreats; Customer Feedback to Customer Daydreams; Market Fit to Meaning Fit; Productivity tools to Possibilities Jam.

 

Cross-Pollinate Ideas aka Borrow from other industries, cultures, even failures, to spark imagination.

 

Some food for torque to unleash imagination. Do Nothing, Pause for Thoughtlessness. If your calendar has no white space, your mind has no blue sky. Accept that fact that the boardroom can accommodate fiction. Let leaders read and pitch sci-fi ideas. Do you think Metaverse was born from an Excel Sheet? Turn hierarchy on its head. Let interns and juniors break your business model. Calibrate an imagination budget– no ROI expected. Only ROFL| WTF & OMG.

 

 

We should forever be asking: What’s Your Brand’s ROE – Return on Enchantment? Because while you are busy measuring output, the world is actually seeking awe.  Because the question isn’t how much output you can produce. It’s how much wonder you can unleash.

 

And as we conclude, some truth be told, inconvenient as it may seem:

 

If you’re hiring only for skill, not for curiosity, you’re building a robot farm.

 

If your brainstorms are just “action items in disguise,” call them what they are: meetathons.

 

If your brand decks use more words like “scale” than “soul,” you’re scaling sameness.

 

In conclusion, here’s the core provocation: “Are you Optimising for Output or Designing for Imagination?” Ready to torch some tired templates? Let’s go.

 

 

 

It is said that the more confused a brand’s positioning, the bigger the star on the payroll. Some marketers use celebrities the way bad students use last-minute tutors: hoping to pass without learning anything. A lot of brands today don’t build trust — they borrow it from celebrities, hoping the glitter will cover up the rot. You might as well be asking “If your brand needs a celebrity to speak for it, maybe your brand has nothing to say “.

 

It would appear that Celebrity Brand Endorsements are the ultimate Cop-Out? And many marketers treat celebrities like Swiss Army knives: a one-size-fits-all shortcut to awareness, aspiration, and acceptance. That said, what gets overlooked are the kickers: It doesn’t guarantee sales.(Ask Pepsi when they lost to Coke in blind tests — with more stars in their ads.). It doesn’t build loyalty. (Fans of Alia Bhatt don’t become loyal to every shampoo she endorses). It doesn’t replace strategy. (Bad product? Bad experience? Even Big B or George Clooney can’t save you).

 

So why do we do it? Because insecurity sells. Because boardrooms love celebrity selfies. Because marketers are often too scared to let the product speak. Or worse — the product has nothing worth saying.

 

From Brylcreem riding the wave of erstwhile England cricketer Dennis Compton’s suave in the 1950s to Tide Pods needing no celebrity because stupidity went viral organically, the use of celebrity brand endorsers is as old as the advertising game itself.

 

India’s tryst with this madness began earnestly with the likes of Kapil Dev for Palmolive (“Palmolive da jawab nahin”), and Hema Malini for Kent RO. Globally, Michael Jordan was Nike. Until Tiger Woods wasn’t anymore.

 

The idea? Fame is transferable. If people love them, they’ll love us.
The reality? They might love them so much, they’ll forget you were even in the ad.

 

Quite a few brands have tasted the Slam Dunk of Celebrity Branding success. Namely: Nike + Michael Jordan = Air Royalty . Not just an endorsement. A co-creation. A mythology. Jordan didn’t just sell shoes — he launched a culture. When Nike signed a rookie basketball player named Michael Jordan in 1984 for what seemed like an astronomical $500,000 plus equity deal, competitors laughed. Today, Jordan Brand generates over $5 billion annually for Nike. Sometimes the suits get it spectacularly right.

 

George Foreman & His Grill: The Knockout That Kept Giving : The former heavyweight champion turned his post-boxing career into a $200 million payday by lending his name to a countertop grill. Foreman reportedly earned more from his grill endorsement than his entire boxing career. Now that’s what you call a comeback story.

 

David Beckham: The Man Who Made Everything Golden: From Pepsi to H&M, Beckham’s endorsement portfolio reads like a masterclass in personal branding. His lifetime deal with Adidas reportedly exceeds $160 million, proving that sometimes pretty faces come with pretty impressive price tags.

 

Virat Kohli & MRF: When Cricket Meets Commerce : Kohli’s MRF deal reportedly fetches him ₹8 crores annually, making him one of the highest-paid cricket endorsers globally. The bat sticker that launched a thousand brand partnerships.

 

Pepsi + Every Pop Star Ever. Michael Jackson, Britney Spears, SRK, Beyoncé — Pepsi didn’t just sell cola, they sold cool. For a while, at least. Ranveer Singh + Thums Up. Kinetic energy meets an effervescent brand. The match felt like a wrestling tag team, not a forced arranged marriage.

 

Is Celebrity Brand Endorsement Worth It? Yes, if:  The star actually aligns with the brand (Roger Federer + Rolex = class).  And, the campaign is creative, not just a famous face reading a script.

 

For all those basking in glory cases, let’s take a look at some of the high stakes’ mishaps to have traveled on the Celebrity Endorsement gravy train.

 

Tiger Woods: The $22 Million Meltdown: When Tiger’s personal life imploded in 2009, brands fled faster than golf balls off his driver. Nike stuck around, but others like Gatorade, AT&T, and Accenture cut ties immediately. Total estimated losses? Over $22 million in endorsement deals.

 

Lance Armstrong: The Lie That Kept Cycling:  Armstrong’s doping scandal didn’t just strip him of Tour de France titles; it obliterated endorsement deals worth over $75 million. Nike alone lost an estimated $30 million when they terminated his contract.

 

Kanye West: The Tweet That Broke the Bank :Kanyye’s anti-Semitic comments in 2022 cost him deals with Adidas (worth $1.5 billion), Gap, and Balenciaga faster than you can say “canceled.” Sometimes, even billions can’t buy you back from brand toxicity.

 

The Maggi-Amitabh Bachchan Controversy: When Maggi faced the lead contamination crisis, even the Big B’s legendary status couldn’t save the noodles from a nationwide ban. Sometimes, not even megastars can digest a PR disaster.

 

Pierce Brosnan + Pan Bahar: Bond. Mouth Bond. When 007 endorsed a chewing tobacco brand and later claimed he was duped. So were we, Brosnan. So were we.

 

MS Dhoni + Amrapali Realty: The cricketer’s image was soiled by a real estate scam. Lesson: If your house isn’t in order, don’t be in housing.

 

The assumption is this: if a star is seen with your brand, visibility shoots up. Sure. But what about believability?

 

Would you trust Virat Kohli pitching for an SUV when he’s never spotted without a Range Rover and a personal driver?

Do we really think Katrina Kaif uses Veet herself?

 

Great celebrity brand endorsements aren’t just about visibility. They’re about fit. Authenticity. Brand DNA alignment.

 

But that takes effort. So we go lazy. And expensive. Here’s the hard truth: it’s often a shortcut, but not always an easy one. Mass brands—under pressure to stand out in overcrowded categories—crave the dopamine shot of a celebrity handshake. Yet, relying on celebrity sizzle without a solid brand proposition? That’s lazy marketing. Instead of sweating over creative differentiation, some marketers just write a big cheque hoping fame will fix flaws.

 

“Endorsement is tempting because it’s easy to buy attention, but you can’t buy authenticity—or consumer trust—so easily “.

 

So, next time you see a celeb waxing eloquent about breakfast cereals or cement, ask yourself: is the brand making a smart move—or just riding celebrity coattails down the yellow-brick road of lazy marketing? Shine on, but watch your step—the spotlight is always burning.

 

In summary, some food for thought?

 

Fame is rented. Brand equity is earned. A great product doesn’t need a godfather. Just a story worth telling. If the celebrity outshines the brand, you’re paying for their brand building, not yours. Don’t mistake recall for relevance. Believability is the new celebrity. Authenticity is the new aspiration. Co-creation > Endorsement. Jordan didn’t just promote Nike, he became it.

 

And before we sign off, what could be the solid alternatives to Celebrity Worship by brands? Lets explore:

 

Creators with authentic clout(Real influence > star power). Customers as ambassadors(Nothing sells like shared experience). Founders with story & soul (Think Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, or even Byju until reality struck). Staff with purpose(Patagonia’s staff stories are more powerful than any celebrity).

 

So, if you really want people to stay with your brand? Build with story, furnish with emotion, and light it with truth.

 

Because when the spotlight moves on, the only thing left standing… is your brand’s soul.

 

 

 

 

 

Remember when cavemen gathered around fires, sharing stories that bonded them for life? That wasn’t just happy social hour—that was the world’s first branding masterclass.

 

If your brand makes sense, great. If your brand makes believers, unstoppable.

 

Forget eyeballs. Find soulmates.

 

Brands are out there playing the dating(bribing?)game with consumers—swiping right with offers, winks, jingles, and discounts. But here’s the deal: People don’t want to be “targeted.” They want to belong.

 

Enter Tribal Branding.

 

This isn’t about demographics. It’s about psychographics. It’s not about how your product looks. It’s about what your tribe feels when they see it, touch it, wear it, scream it, tattoo it.

 

From Apple to Harley, Starbucks to Nike, Patagonia to Manchester United, Beyonce to SRK— Tribes don’t follow brands. They carry them on their backs.

 

In this edition of SOHB Story👇 by ISD Global, we decode why brands built on communities crush those built on commodities. How tribal rituals, language, myths, enemies, and symbols create irrational love and eternal loyalty.

And why if you’re not building a tribe, you’re just building traffic. Because, there’s no middle ground in the attention economy.

 

This is your brand’s new religion. And no, this one won’t need an ad budget to go viral.

 

This edition of SOHB Story (State of the Heart Branding)👆 by ISD Global isn’t another marketing playbook gathering digital dust. It’s your tribal manifesto—a deep dive into why Harley riders would rather walk than drive a Honda, why Apple users defend their choice with religious fervor, and why Nike customers don’t just wear shoes—they wear battle armor.

 

Because in a world of infinite choices( or the Sea of Sameness), belonging isn’t just powerful—it’s profitable.

 

Nike spends $3.2 billion annually on marketing. But their most powerful advertisement? The unpaid testimonials from customers who’d rather run barefoot than wear Adidas or any other competing brand. That’s not marketing—that’s tribal warfare.

 

Every marketing guru tells you to ‘know your customer.’ Here’s what they don’t tell you: Your customer doesn’t want to be known. They want to belong. There’s a difference that’s worth billions. Probably trillions.

 

In the early 90’s, owning a computer made you a geek. In 2005, owning an iPhone made you an early adopter. In 2025, building a tribe makes you a category king. The question is: Are you building one?

 

Our team at ISD Global after analyzing 500+ global brands, distilled one one pattern that emerged front and centre: The most profitable companies aren’t the best at marketing—they’re the best at meaning-making.

 

Brand loyalty isn’t about satisfaction scores anymore. It’s about tribal affiliation.

 

Let’s understand what Tribal Branding is NOT : Ads | Offers | Outreach

 

What Tribal Branding IS: Rites | Rituals | Symbols | Enemies | And yes, a reason to belong

 

Build temples, not billboards. Create chants, not campaigns. Spark fire, not frequency. Stand for something. Loudly.

 

You must tribe before you vibe.

 

This is food for thought and NOT etched in stone!

 

Your brand differentiation delusion might be killing your brand. So, time to stop being a marketing masochist!

 

The reality today is that if you are not spreading the word about your brand, you might as well get ready to die forgotten. Sorry, but that’s the brutal truth.

 

Most brands are obsessed with concentrating their message—polishing it, perfecting it, locking it in a vault like it’s the frigging Kohinoor diamond. Meanwhile, the brands that actually win? They’re too busy multiplying their message, not manicuring it.

 

Remember when Old Spice went from “grandpa’s aftershave” to “viral sensation”? They didn’t do it by whispering about ‘olfactory differentiation.’ They screamed absurdity into every screen, meme, and timeline until you couldn’t escape Isaiah Mustafa’s shirtless charm. Result? Sales up 107%.  And the overthought cologne brands?? Far too busy glorifying differentiation. Maggi didn’t become India’s 2-minute addiction by waffling about ‘premium noodle experiences.’ It was ubiquitous—in trains, dhabas, hostels, and midnight cravings. The brand didn’t differentiate; it dominated through sheer repetition.

 

In the University of Branding, differentiation is a marketing masturbation. Brand marketers love to fetishize differentiation like it’s the holy grail. Reality: Consumers don’t give a shit. Differentiation is a byproduct, not the goal. Familiarity is the goal.

 

Apple doesn’t win because it’s ‘different’—it wins because you see that damn logo everywhere.  Zomato doesn’t thrive on ‘unique food delivery tech’—it thrives because its ads are unavoidable, like the drunk friend at a get together calling anything and everything in pants his brother.
Tesla didn’t wait for ‘perfect differentiation’—Elon Musk turned Twitter into a free Tesla billboard.

 

The brutal truth is that your customers don’t give a flying fig about your “unique brand proposition.” They care about one thing and one thing only—whether they’ve heard of you before when it’s time to buy. As Ad Contrarian, Bob Hoffman elicits brilliantly- ” a poorly differentiated brand that everybody has heard of has a lot better chance of success than a well-differentiated brand that nobody’s heard of “.

 

Coca-Cola doesn’t win because people passionately believe in the “Real Thing” mythology. It wins because you literally cannot escape it. From Times Square billboards to remote village shops in Myanmar, that red logo is more ubiquitous than oxygen. They’ve made familiarity their superpower, not differentiation. Result? While craft cola brands agonize over their “artisanal positioning,” Coke sells 1.9 billion servings daily. Every. Single. Day. Little wonder that it is the Red Menace that conquered the earth.

 

McDonald‘s food isn’t winning Michelin stars anytime soon, yet they serve 70 million customers daily. Why? Because those golden arches have burned themselves into our collective retina. From Manhattan to Mumbai, from São Paulo to Stockholm, McDonald’s achieved something no brand strategist’s whiteboard ever could: unavoidable familiarity. Meanwhile, countless “better burger” brands with superior “brand stories” die quiet deaths in strip malls.

 

Unilever doesn’t win because Dove’s “Real Beauty” campaign touched your soul. They win because they own shelf space in your brain through sheer omnipresence. When you need soap, shampoo, or ice cream, a Unilever brand pops into your head not because of emotional connection, but because of neural pathway dominance built through relentless exposure.

 

Crocs – they are ugly as sin. But worn by surgeons, rappers, kindergarten teachers, and Snoop Dogg. Not because it whispered, “I’m different,” but because it screamed “I’m everywhere and I don’t care what you think!”

 

Amul India-They didn’t just build a brand. They built a culture. That little Amul girl doesn’t just advertise. She comments. She connects. She’s a content marketer in polka dots, out posting every global agency on relevance.

 

If you want to bring in real neuroscience( not the brand consultant pseudoscience ) of what our brain does when making purchase decisions:-

 

Step 1: “Do I recognize this?”Step 2: “Good enough.” Step 3: Purchase complete.

 

That’s it. No brand journey mapping. No emotional storytelling analysis. No values alignment assessment. Just pattern recognition running on autopilot.

 

The psychological principle is called the “mere exposure effect“—people prefer things they’re familiar with, even if they can’t remember where they encountered them. It is quite possible that your million-dollar brand strategy is competing against basic human psychology and losing. Worth introspecting??

 

Social media promised to democratize branding. Instead, it created a generation of marketers who think 50,000 Instagram followers and a viral TikTok make a brand.

 

Reality check: Those followers aren’t buying. They’re scrolling. The brands making actual money are still the ones buying massive reach through old-school channels while everyone else fights for engagement rates.

 

Facebook(now Meta) didn’t become worth $800 billion because of emotional storytelling. It became unavoidable.

 

The most successful brands in history aren’t the most loved—they’re the most familiar. They didn’t win hearts and minds; they won eyes and ears through relentless, systematic, boring repetition.

 

Your customers don’t want to fall in love with your brand. They want to remember it exists when they need what you sell.

 

The sooner you accept this uncomfortable truth, the sooner you can stop pretending to be a storyteller and start being a spreader.

 

Because in the end, familiarity doesn’t breed contempt—it breeds sales.

 

This is not etched in stone and hence worthy of revalidation- Nevertheless, a quick checklist on what could be going awry:-

 

To Brand Owners: You’re paying consultants to make you feel smart while your competitors make you irrelevant. Every dollar spent on brand strategy sessions is a dollar not spent on getting in front of customers.

 

To Brand Managers: Your KPIs are measuring everything except what matters. Brand awareness isn’t about brand love—it’s about brand recognition when it counts.

 

To Marketing Directors: Your sophisticated targeting is sophisticated failure. While you’re reaching the “right” 10,000 people, your competitors are reaching the “good enough” 10 million.

 

To CMOs: Your board doesn’t care about your brand purpose. They care about market share. Familiarity drives market share. Everything else is expensive therapy.

 

If the above has merit, then the below just might be a roadmap to address it:-

 

Audit your spend: How much goes to “brand building” vs. “brand spreading”? Flip the ratio.

 

Measure mental availability: Can people recall your brand when they need your category? If not, your differentiation strategy is academic masturbation.

 

Go broad before deep: Reach more people averagely before reaching fewer people brilliantly.

 

Embrace boring consistency: Your logo, your message, your presence—make them boringly familiar.

 

Accept the familiarity truth: You’re not building a beloved brand. You’re building a recognizable one.

 

In branding, concentration is constipation. Movement (of message) is everything.

 

Differentiation is a delusion in designer fonts. Today’s world doesn’t want mystery. It wants momentum. Familiarity doesn’t breed contempt. It breeds conversion. Why? Because in a world addicted to scrolls, swipes, and skips, you have 2.5 seconds to earn brain space. And the brain loves what it already knows, or at least what it sees everywhere.

 

It’s not about being different. It’s about being shared. And if your brand isn’t a conversation, it’s a cough in a hurricane.

 

The road to hell is paved with good intentions—and a few fat-fingered typos. We live in a world where spelling bees have become irrelevant… because our phones now bee for us. Technology was supposed to make our lives easier. Instead, it’s turned us into semi-literate Morse-code monkeys, banging away on glass screens while AI gleefully rewrites our intentions.

 

Typos used to be innocent errors—freckles on the face of the written word. Now, they’re full-blown sabotage missions engineered by the dark lords of autocorrect.

 

Remember when autocorrect was supposed to be our digital guardian angel? Instead, it became our mischievous poltergeist. Apple’s iOS once famously changed “I’m going to be a little late” to “I’m going to be a little latte.” Suddenly, punctuality became a coffee-related emergency.

 

Welcome to the the autocorrect apocalypse, where: Emails get sent with “Public” turned into “Pubic.” Presentations refer to the “Mating Strategy” instead of “Marketing Strategy.” Condolence messages accidentally say “Congratulation on your loss.” Indian politicians address “Pubic Welfare Schemes” without a hint of irony. Global brands tweet “Thangs for the support!” and trend for all the wrong reasons.

 

Let’s face it. We are willing or unwilling participants in the embarrassment economy. Typos mint embarrassment like central banks print money. They’re the reason your LinkedIn endorsement says you’re “great at pubic speaking,” or your résumé boasts “attention to derail.” They’re the silent assassins of professional credibility, the accidental poets of personal humiliation.

 

But here’s the twist: typos humanise us. In a world of polished personas and curated feeds, a well-placed typo is a reminder that behind every screen is a person—flawed, funny, and refreshingly real.

 

Organizations aren’t immune. A global fast-food chain’s app once offered a “spicy chicken sandwich,” but the typo promised a “spicy children sandwich.” Cue parental outrage and a PR nightmare. In India, a matrimonial site’s ad urged users to “find your soulmate,” but the typo suggested they “fond your soulmate.” Romance took a turn for the awkward.

 

Even governments aren’t spared. A municipal notice in Mumbai warned residents about “loose cattle on the road,” but the typo announced “lose cattle on the road.”Suddenly, the city was in a bovine crisis of existential proportions.

 

Shortcuts aren’t funny, you bet. Predictive text and autocorrect were supposed to be our digital sidekicks, not our stand-up comedians. But somewhere between “convenience” and “catastrophe,” they decided to freelance as pranksters. We’re not that lazy—we just want to type “best regards,” not “beast regards.” We’re not looking to be typecast as the office clown or the family meme.

 

Yet, here we are: a world where “public” becomes “pubic,” “shift” becomes “shit,” and “ducking” is the new F-word. The line between efficiency and embarrassment has never been thinner—or funnier.

 

Typos are the reason your heartfelt email to a client reads, “Looking forward to our meating,” turning a professional exchange into a carnivorous punchline. Or when your organization’s official tweet announces, “We’re excited to lunch our new product!”—suddenly, your PR team is in the business of catering, not tech.

 

Typos are the digital age’s serial offender. We live in an era where autocorrect is the unsolicited editor we never hired, predictive text is the overzealous intern who finishes our sentences (badly), and typos—those mischievous gremlins of the keyboard—have become the accidental ambassadors of our digital souls. In the grand theater of technology, typos are the slapstick comedians, the court jesters, the occasional saboteurs. They don’t just cross the line—they somersault over it, dragging our dignity behind them.

 

Some years ago, defense contractor Lockheed Martin once sent a press release about their “new missile technology” that autocorrected to “new missile theology.” Defense analysts worldwide spent hours trying to decode the spiritual implications of weaponry before someone realized it was just another victim of the typo epidemic. Typos have had a role to play in diplomatic debacle as well. The Ministry of External Affairs in India once issued a statement about “strengthening bilateral ties” that was published as “strengthening bilateral ties” in Hindi but somehow became “strengthening bilateral pies” in the English translation. Foreign diplomats were reportedly charmed by India’s apparent commitment to pastry diplomacy.

 

Autocorrect has been playing a stellar in the Republic of Romance. Dating apps have become breeding grounds for typo catastrophes. A woman in Chennai meant to tell her match she loved “long walks on the beach” but sent “long walks on the bench.” He showed up for their first date with a picnic basket and a very confused expression at the local park bench.

 

In our quest for digital perfection, typos remind us that technology is ultimately human. Every autocorrect fail is a testament to our beautifully imperfect relationship with the machines we’ve created to serve us. Call it the humanisation of technology.

 

CEOs, presidents, and kindergarten teachers all fall victim to the same digital demons. In a world of increasing inequality, it’s oddly comforting that autocorrect treats everyone with equal disdain. Talk about typos being the great equaliser.

 

The United States of Amoeba: A Chinese newspaper’s autocorrect turned America into Amoeba, reducing a superpower to a single-celled organism.

 

“Narendra Modi vs. Moody“: A major Indian news channel’s ticker once flashed PM Moody addresses the nation. Freudian slip or predictive text prophecy?

 

The next time autocorrect turns your “sincerely” into “sin cereal,” remember that you’re participating in the grand human tradition of making mistakes. You’re not alone in this typo-ridden journey.

As we navigate this brave new world of digital communication, perhaps the real lesson isn’t to avoid typos altogether. Maybe it’s to embrace them, laugh at them, and remember that in our perfectly imperfect digital age, the best conversations often start with “Sorry, I meant to say…”

 

After all, in a world where we can’t even trust our phones to understand us, perhaps the greatest act of rebellion is to keep typing, keep making mistakes, and keep finding humor in the chaos. Because at the end of the day, we’re all just humans trying to communicate in a world designed by other humans who apparently couldn’t spell “definitely” correctly either.

 

If autocorrect was a person, it’d be in jail for impersonation, fraud, and emotional trauma. Don’t get “type”-cast as careless. Slay the typo dragon before it breathes fire on your credibility.We’re not lazy. We’re just typo-prone Homo Sapiens in a QWERTY cage match.

 

A typo is just a small mistake. But in a world where impressions are digital and permanent, it’s also a viral meme waiting to happen. So take a pause. Reread. Rewrite. Resist the siren song of autocorrect. And above all—don’t let typos write your story.

 

Think about it:

 

Rolex doesn’t make watches. They make TIME feel inadequate.

Ferrari doesn’t sell cars. They sell the AUDACITY to make people wait.

Chanel doesn’t create handbags. They create YEARNING with a zipper.

 

These brands didn’t become iconic by being available. They became iconic by being UNAVAILABLE.

 

Whether you’re the C in CEO, the X in CXO, or the O in “Oh damn, we need a better brand!” — this post is being dared as your wake-up call. Pardon the trespassing, if any.

 

Warning:Reading this may cause extreme envy from competitors, sudden surges in demand, and an uncontrollable urge to say “Access Denied”with a smirk.

 

Access is the new aspiration, and the smartest brands are playing hard to get — not because they’re arrogant, but because scarcity sells, and abundance bores.

 

Let’s get real — everyone wants what they can’t have. And in branding, desire is built not by shouting YES, but by whispering a seductive NO. 

 

This isn’t a post—it’s a branding exorcism. The intent here is to:

 

Murder your desperation for mass appeal.

Resurrect your brand as the unattainable holy grail.

Teach you to weaponize “NO”—and make them thank you for it.

 

Let’s talk EXCLUSIVITY. Not the snooty, “velvet rope at the club” kind—no, we’re talking about building such legendary demand for your brand that even your “NO” becomes the hottest ticket in town.

 

Interested in some counter-intuitive truth? That most C-Suite leaders know but won’t admit? The most successful brands don’t chase customers. They make customers chase THEM.

 

Hermès doesn’t advertise their waitlists. They ARE the waitlist.

Tesla removed their referral program. Demand went UP.

Supreme drops limited collections. The world loses its mind.

 

The pattern? These brands have weaponized scarcity. They’ve made “NO” their most powerful marketing tool.

 

Why Exclusivity?  Because “premium” is overrated. True exclusivity isn’t about being expensive—it’s about being irresistibly unavailable. It’s the art of making your audience beg for a NO. (And then charging them for the privilege) .

 

This approach is perfect for all those brands tired of competing on price (yawn). For all the leaders who’d rather be coveted than just visible.
And for anyone who’s ever thought, “I wish my ‘no’ had a waiting list.

 

Imagine walking into your next board meeting and saying: “We’re turning away customers. Our waitlist is 3 months long. People are literally begging us to take their money.”

 

That’s not arrogance. That’s strategic exclusivity.

 

Don’t just build brands. Build cults. Teach your brand to say NO (so they value your YES). Create scarcity (even in abundance). Build waitlists (not just wishlists). Make rejection feel like recognition.

 

Because the best relationships start with a little hard-to-get.

 

Let me add here that this strategy isn’t for brands that want to be everything to everyone. It’s for brands that want to be EVERYTHING to SOMEONE.

 

Ready to jump in? CEOs who’d rather ignite desire than chase attention. CMOs ready to write the next invite-only rulebook. Brand Owners and Guardians who want people to earn their loyalty—and not just collect it in a swag bag.

 

If you’re not pissing off 90% of people, you’re not for the 10% who matter.

 

Some food for thought: YES-men brands die anonymous. NO-makers become legends. The secret to brand lust? Make them feel they don’t qualify. Say NO. Not out of arrogance. But out of brand hygiene. FOMO is built on denial, not discounts. Build a brand people brag about being rejected by.

 

This isn’t for you I am afraid if you are the type of leader who believes “Customer is always right” (spoiler: they’re not); Thinks bigger markets = better business (cute, but wrong); Wants to be liked more than respected (therapy might help); Measures success by how many people you please (please stop). Then keep scrolling. This conversation isn’t for you.

 

On the flip side, this is certainly for you if you are the type of visionary leader who wants people to tattoo your brand logo on their souls; Believes in quality over quantity (revolutionary, we know); Understands that exclusivity is the ultimate aphrodisiac; Is ready to make competitors weep with envy.

 

So, are you ready to turn polite rejection into mass hysteria; where you’ll have customers outside your inbox like it’s Black Friday; to experience the forbidden joy of denial—Watch prospects go from “please?” to “pretty please with influencer sprinkles; where you are turning demand into an extreme sport— Because when you’re exclusive, FOMO burns, but FOTNO (Fear Of Them Not Owning) scars.

 

All set to grab your industry by the lapels and deliver a sassy, velvet-gloved “NO”? Because SOHB-State Of The Heart Branding– isn’t for brands that want attention. It’s for brands that are the attention.

 

Let’s start with a little horror story.

 

You didn’t buy that protein shake. You became a gym-going, mirror-selfie-clicking, sleeveless-wearing person because of that shake’s Instagram campaign. Congratulations. You didn’t just get sold a product. You got assigned a personality. And that, dear reader, is Advertising 5.0: Continuous Behaviour Modification on a Titanic Scale.

 

Gone are the days when advertising was about shouting “Buy One, Get One” louder than your competitor. Today, it’s about whispering into your subconscious, hacking your dopamine loops, and puppeteering your routines until you think it was your idea all along.

 

If you think you’re immune to advertising, congratulations—your programming is complete.

 

Advertising has metamorphosed into the Great Mind Heist– and you are the Willing Accomplice.

Welcome to the Behaviour Modification Olympics—and guess what? You’re the main event, the mascot, and the medal. Remember when ads begged for your attention like a desperate Tinder date? Now, they don’t ask. They hack. They slip into your DMs, your dreams, your dopamine drip. They’re not selling soap—they’re laundering your free will, one micro-targeted nudge at a time. If you think advertising is about selling you a bar of soap, you’re already in the shower, singing their jingle, and you don’t even know it.

 

Recall the time when ads were just those annoying interruptions between your favourite TV shows? When “Nirma, washing powder Nirma” was the petulant earworm you had to endure? Fast forward to today: advertising isn’t just selling you stuff—it’s reprogramming you, one dopamine hit at a time. Welcome to the era where advertising has mutated into a relentless, 24/7, behaviour modification machine. And you, dear reader, are the lab rat—except the cheese is your own attention span. Welcome to the age of behavioural puppeteering.

 

Then & Now– Then :- TV, radio, print—ads were like that overeager uncle at weddings: loud, obvious, and easy to ignore. You could switch the channel, flip the page, or just walk away. Now :-ads are the invisible strings pulling your every move. They know when you’re hungry, tired, or just bored enough to buy a Himalayan salt lamp at 2 AM.

 

Let’s try to understand this behaviour modification on steroids a little better through some examples. Ariel India #Sharetheload. What started as a detergent ad became a social movement. Ariel didn’t just sell soap—they sold guilt to Indian men for not doing laundry. Over 1.5 million men pledged to “share the load,” and the campaign sparked national conversations about gender roles. Suddenly, not helping with chores wasn’t just lazy—it was socially unacceptable. Bell Bajao (Ring the Bell), India– A campaign that didn’t just raise awareness about domestic violence—it recruited men to intervene. The message? If you hear violence, ring the bell. Over 130 million people reached, and a new social norm: silence is complicity. Advertising as a moral nudge, not just a product push. In the US, Neutrogena used real-time UV data and your location to push sunscreen ads just as you stepped into the sun. Result: you buy, not because you want to, but because the ad knows you need to.

Advertising isn’t just about making you buy—it’s about making you be. The next time you reach for that product, ask yourself: is it your choice, or have you just been nudged, poked, and prodded into submission?

 

You’re Not the Customer—You’re the Product. If you’re not paying, you’re being played. Your Habits Are the New Currency. Every scroll, like, and pause is data—fuel for the next manipulation. Opt-Out? Good Luck. Even your “Do Not Disturb” is just another data point. The Only Way Out Is Through Awareness. If you can’t spot the sucker in the ad game, it’s you.

 

You think you bought those Nike Air Max because they were on sale?
Wrong. Nike didn’t sell you shoes. They installed an identity app inside your skull: Just Do It. Don’t think. Don’t rest. Don’t ask. Perform. Project. Perspire. Repeat.

 

The needle is being moved. From what to buy to who to be.

 

Old School Ad Man: “Buy this detergent. It removes 99% stains.”

 

New Age Algorithm: “Your neighbor already has this detergent. It also makes their kitchen smell like Santorini sunsets. Don’t be basic.”

 

Swipe through Swiggy, scroll Instagram, browse Flipkart—what looks like convenience is just camouflaged compliance.  Zomato’s notifications aren’t reminding you to eat. They’re training you to salivate on cue. Cred doesn’t reward good behavior. It creates behavior by defining what “cool” financial adulthood should feel like. Tata Neu? It’s not a super app. It’s a walled garden where your choices go to get domesticated. And don’t even get me started on matrimonial apps. It’s no longer shaadi.com, it’s identity re-assembly dot AI.

 

TikTok isn’t a social media app. It’s a neurological lab conducting mass experiments in 15-second doses. Amazon doesn’t wait for demand. It plants the seed, waters it with algorithms, and sends a delivery guy before you even knew you needed it. Apple’s not selling phones. It’s prescribing taste.

 

Remember when India went cashless overnight? What looked like a financial revolution was actually the world’s largest behavior modification experiment. Apps like Paytm, PhonePe, and Google Pay didn’t just make payments easier—they made spending invisible. No physical money changing hands means no psychological friction to spending. Result? Digital payment transactions in India jumped from 2.4 billion in 2016 to 87 billion in 2023. That’s not adoption; that’s addiction by design. From cash to cashless to clueless?

 

In India, companies like Byju’s and Unacademy didn’t just sell education—they sold parental anxiety. Their ads featured crying mothers, disappointed fathers, and the implicit message: “Your child’s failure is your failure.” They turned education into an arms race where parents mortgaged their futures to buy their kids’ dreams. The result? A multi billion dollar industry built on fear, hope, and EMI payments. Selling dreams by delivering debt?

 

We’re not in the age of brand loyalty anymore. We’re in the age of brand colonization. The biggest brands aren’t brands. They are behaviour pharmacies.

 

Your willpower is the product. Your habits are for sale. Let’s call it what it is. Advertising is no longer trying to change your mind. It’s trying to own it. And in doing so, it’s turned from an art form into a behavioural operating system.

 

It isn’t about better ads. It’s about better addiction loops.

 

Why do you think YouTube autoplays?
Why do you think Netflix asks, “Are you still watching?”
Why do you think Spotify creates “Your Weekly Discovery”?

 

Because they don’t just want your attention. They want to choreograph your day.

 

Default Settings Are Designed to Exploit You: Every default setting on every app is designed to maximize engagement, not user benefit. Auto-play, push notifications, infinite scroll—these aren’t features, they’re behavioral modification tools. The first thing you should do with any new app is turn off notifications and change the default settings.

 

The Algorithm Knows You Better Than You Know Yourself :-Your smartphone knows when you’re happy, sad, lonely, or excited based on your usage patterns. It knows your political views, your shopping habits, your relationship status, and your insecurities. It’s like having a therapist who sells your secrets to advertisers.

 

Free Will is an Illusion in the Digital Age:- Every choice you make online is the result of hundreds of micro-decisions made by algorithms. The content you see, the products you’re shown, the people you meet—it’s all curated to influence your behavior. You think you’re making free choices, but you’re actually following a script written by an AI.

 

Here’s what we as a tribe (customers) have to be wary of. Brand owners will not stop treating customers like Pavlov’s dogs. They will not give us autonomy but addiction. Thy will not make us feel, but react. For marketers, data is actionable, sellable intelligence. Period. They are not going to treat it like it’s influence with a moral obligation. Consumers (aka, us, the Hunted): Awareness is rebellion, especially in this age of engineered desire. Curate your content the way you’d curate your diet. Detox your data feed. Don’t let trends trend you. Your attention is currency. Spend it like you mean it. Students of Branding: This is your wake-up call. Learn psychology before Photoshop. Because the battlefield isn’t billboards—it’s beliefs.

 

So, even if this seems like stating the obvious, here it is in unadulterated form . Advertising isn’t about selling stuff anymore. It’s about selling stories that script your schedule, style, and self-worth.

 

This isn’t just a creative industry anymore. It’s a behavioural economy with more power than most elected governments.

 

So the next time an ad pops up, don’t just ask, “What are they selling?”
Ask, “What are they trying to make me become?

 

The Real Product is Behavioral Change:– Modern advertising doesn’t just want to sell you a product—it wants to change your behavior permanently. They want you to develop new habits, new needs, new insecurities. It’s not about a one-time purchase; it’s about lifetime behavioral modification.

 

So, Wake Up and Smell the Manipulation !

 

Reality has a knack for RSVPing to your life’s party just as you’re about to sip your victory champagne. You could be in a boardroom in Bengaluru, a café in Brooklyn, or a virtual meeting on Mars—reality doesn’t care. It barges in, unannounced, and says, “Mind if I crash your narrative?”

 

Welcome to the art of living when life refuses to stick to your script. Life doesn’t get the memo that you’re ‘not in the mood.’ It shows up anyway—often with a smirk. The inconvenient truth is that the universe doesn’t do ‘out of office.’ Your breakdown is just its coffee break.

 

The compound interest of denial is expensive. The longer you postpone facing reality, the more it costs. But here’s the secret: every great story in history began with someone facing a reality they didn’t expect and choosing to dance with it.

 

Reality has the emotional intelligence of a charging rhinoceros and the timing of a toddler at a dinner party. Ask Vishal Garg, the CEO who famously Zoom-fired 900 employees and then realized—oops—reality has a thing called brand reputation. Or Elizabeth Holmes, who dreamed in turtlenecks and blood tests, until reality made her trade Silicon Valley stage lights for orange jumpsuits.

 

Reality, does not read your LinkedIn bio. It’s not inspired by your grid aesthetic. It doesn’t care about your hustle porn or your “Grind. Rise. Win. Repeat.” wallpaper. It shows up when the funding dries up. When the cofounder ghosts. When the product actually has to work. When the marriage can’t be saved by “good vibes only.” When your boss says, “We need to talk.” And when it does, it’s a masterclass—brutal, beautiful, and unskippable.

 

Howard Schultz of Starbucks was once fired from Xerox  and then laughed at for wanting to bring espresso to America. Reality said: “No one wants fancy Italian coffee.” Cut to: A multi-billion dollar coffee empire and more pumpkin spice than anyone ever asked for. Mike Tyson: Depression. Obesity. Booze. Down and out. Reality? A heavyweight championship belt and a comeback story that punches as hard as he does. And for pure contrast Harshad Mehta: Believed in too big to fail. Reality doesn’t negotiate with hubris. End credits: The Big Bull meets The Big Fall.

 

Elon Musk didn’t just build rockets—he built a brand on reality checks. When SpaceX rockets exploded, he didn’t cry over spilled rocket fuel. He tweeted memes, learned, and launched again. Pragmatism, Musk-style: “If reality slaps you, tweet about it and slap back with innovation.” Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw walked into banks with a dream and walked out with a “no.” Did she sulk? No. She turned her garage into a biotech empire. Reality told her she was crazy. She told reality, “Watch me.” Today, Biocon is rewriting the rules of global pharma. The lesson? Reality is just a suggestion—not a verdict.

 

From J.K. Rowling’s rejection letters (which could wallpaper Buckingham Palace) to Ratan Tata’s Nano—a car so small it could fit in your self-doubt—reality has a way of inspiring the most unexpected triumphs. It’s not the setback that matters; it’s the comeback. And sometimes, the best stories are written by those who let reality in, then show it the door with style.

 

Because, life isn’t a rom-com where the universe sends you a ‘thinking of you’ text. It’s more like a Tarantino film—blood, guts, and unexpected plot twists. Buckle up. So next time reality kicks in your door, hand it a drink and say:  “Took you long enough. Let’s negotiate.”

 

Reality is the unsolicited WhatsApp forward from life. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t care for aesthetics. It’s that one friend who tells you your breath stinks—loudly—in public. But hear this: Reality doesn’t ruin the party. It does one better. It resets the guest list. It removes the illusion that passion alone pays bills. The myth that “working smart” means not working at all. The startup pitch where “disruptive” = “we don’t have a revenue model yet”.

 

Travis Kalanick of Uber disrupted the world, then got disrupted by his own HR department. Built a unicorn. Got bucked by it. Lesson: You can code your way into the future, but culture will still sneak up and code-switch you out of it. WeWork’s Adam Neumann– he had the vibe of a guru, the funding of a nation-state, and the business model of a daydream. Reality came wearing a SEC subpoena and said, “Namaste, bro. Time’s up.Vijay Mallya ran a liquor empire. Bought a Formula 1 team. And then forgot one minor detail: Cashflow matters more than Kingfisher calendars. Reality now sends postcards to him in London—with extradition notices. Ratan Tata punched reality in the face with humility. When Nano flopped, he didn’t blame astrologers or Mercury retrograde. He simply said: “We tried. We’ll do better.” That’s how real leaders wear failure—like a sherwani, not a shame-shawl.

 

The universe isn’t against you. It’s just way too busy to pander to your laziness. Get in the queue. Bring value. Or bring chai. Delusion is not a strategy. Optimism is not a plan. Manifestation is not a business model.
Hard work? Still trending since 2000 BC.

 

You’re not being punished. You’re being positioned. Reality’s got range. Every time you ignore reality, it does 10 pushups and comes back stronger.

 

One look into the Uncomfortable Mirror and it tells you that we backup our photos but not our relationships. We insure our phones but not our mental health. We prepare for zombie apocalypse but not Monday morning meetings. Reality is laughing at our misplaced priorities. What are you actually preparing for?

 

Every algorithm confidently predicted Hillary Clinton would win the US Presidential elections. Every model missed the 2008 crash. Every expert said Lehman was too big to fail. Reality is the ultimate fact-checker, and it doesn’t care about your data science degree.

 

Boomers: Saves for everything Millennials: Optimizes everything Gen Z: Influences everything Reality: Surprises everyone equally.

 

Whether you’re Mukesh Ambani or the neighborhood kirana store owner, reality treats everyone with equal irreverence. COVID-19 didn’t check anyone’s net worth before shutting down their operations. The democracy of disruption is real, and it’s coming for all of us. And, thats the Universal Truth.