Branded Blog

Last week, in celebration of having finished my yoga teachers training course, the Barefoot Mountain Guide and I climbed on board the Shosholoza Premier Classe train at Park Station in Joburg, and took a leisurely 24 hour ride through the wondrously green Karoo back home to CT.

Traveling by train is one of those highly romanticized ideals of travel, and I have to admit that although I was really looking forward to it – my last train trip having been yonks ago when my mom used to pack little sister and I up and get on a train from Welkom to visit Nana in Cape Town – there was a tremor of trepidation at revisiting this wonderful memory and running the risk of totally annihilating it in the process.

So when we got to Park Station on Sunday afternoon and the Premier Classe lounge was too small for all the passengers, and the first delay was announced after our boarding time, I really began to doubt the wisosity (a word coined by previously mentioned little sister) of this choice.

Especially when they brought in the suspect “champagne” – sorry, I’m a terrible champagne snob and JCL just does not even make the cut-off of the category, never mind the list of drinkable local versions! – and chocolate cake to pacify us before telling us that actually the issue was that the copper hot water pipes on the train had been stolen en-route somewhere overnight from CT (I kid you not), and they were having to replace them so it was going to be long wait, I almost phoned Kulula to beg forgiveness for my abandonment of them and plead for a spot on the 7:45pm departure from Lanseria. No champagne required.

Having been told that we’d be boarding at 9pm, the Mountain Guide & I hopped into a taxi and went to go find a movie to watch in Rosebank, but as it turned out the boarding time was brought forward and we didn’t get to see the end- but we did get to step into our lovely cabin, white linen and all and dress up for dinner on the train.

And the reason that I’m not sounding at all stressed about the delays and lack of seating and the late dinner and the bad champagne? Simple. A classic example of the power of good basic crisis management & how it can turn a potential disaster into the engine for outstanding word-of-mouth PR. I’m talking about it now, after all. At 6pm on a Sunday night, the day before a public holiday, the CEO of Premier Classe himself came out to Park Station and announced to the entire train-full of grumpy (but I have to say, remarkably patient and pleasant despite the issues) passengers that although the train was almost ready to go and we would all still hopefully enjoy our journey to CT, Premier Classe would be refunding the full fare for the entire trip. 100% refund. A free luxury train ride to Cape Town, how marvelous! And so disappeared in a split-second any trace of grumpiness, any annoyance at the 5 hour delay, and any discomfort from bad champagne and cake. Smiles all around.

And from there on in , it genuinely was one of the loveliest trips between Joburg and Cape Town I have ever taken – and I’ve done far too many to even bother counting.

I am really very excited to be able to report without a shadow of irony, that the staff both before departure but especially on the train were outstanding. Friendly, informed, extremely well trained, and even enjoying working together – which is an achievement anywhere, nevermind in the confined quarters of a moving train!

The luxury of crisp linen bedding on made-up beds with chocolates at turn-down and unmatchable views ; the delights of someone bringing tea and coffee to your cabin on a tray;

the sumptuous and indulgent (but not diet friendly!) meals served by smiling staff who twirl and shimmy past each other in what resembles a choreographed ballet of service in the dining car; the extreme indulgence of lying on your bed with a newspaper and watching the countryside slide by;

the giggling entertainment of a tandem shower on a moving train (highly recommended!); the change in perspective you get from just being for a few hours instead of constantly doing; and the luxury of time to spend with someone who you love are each worth the money on their own. Together they are magical.

And standing out above all these wonderful moments for me, was watching the sun rise quietly over the Karoo very early on Monday morning. Having slept fitfully during the night, lulled by the clackety-clack rhythm of the train, I awoke to the slowing of the train for an early morning stop in – an unheard of thing for me, but 4:20am I was awake and I quietly pulled the curtains open and slide the blind up to find we had stopped on our way towards the still sleepy town of De Aar.

The sun was just starting to share some light over the horizon before sunrise, and the absolute stillness was tangible, tactile. The air wide & breathable, the sky open and waiting. Such a perfect moment of dawn, it took my breath away. And then we drew slowly out of the station again, and the rising light revealed thunderstorms on the distant horizons and then a bridge over a silvery river quietly carrying on down its path. And for just a moment as we chugged inevitably over the bridge, the distant lightning and thunder-heads framed the silver river and it was perfect. Beauty as only early dawn Karoo can demonstrate. Perfect. And momentary. I was transfixed, and spent the next couple of hours watching the sun shake out its feathers, spread its glow and finally rise above the green Karoo. Breathtaking.

And it reminded me of that fact that we try so hard to change, with so much human effort and angst. Perfect beauty is fleeting. It can be no other way. And yet we try so hard to hold onto such moments, extend them, relive them. We forget that the crux of their perfection is in that very fleeting nature – nothing that is examined or extended can maintain perfection, it will inevitably degrade and disappoint. It will become real.

And here is the point at which I think we need to re-think our stories of beauty and perfection. We need to learn to see the beauty and perfection of the ordinary, so that we can live continuously in that joy and not wait for fleeting perfection before we are happy. We need to be happy with and in the everyday reality of life, otherwise it just becomes one long waiting room experience. Not fun for anyone involved.

So how on earth am I going to get from here to brands?

It occurred to me, later that same Monday morning on the train, that for consumers the experience of using a brand could easily be seen as a train ride through an unknown country. Once the consumer is on the train ride through your brand, they can only see what is presented to them directly from outside the train, and what they see and experience is all they get to know about your brand. And I think the mistake we often make as brand owners is to feel that we have to make every single experience that consumers have of the brand momentous.

I don’t think they all need to be momentous. They all need to be good, but in different ways for different reasons. They can’t all be crossing the river at sunrise, but they can all help create a journey that feels worth the effort, that has a sense of reward even during the most prosaic daily encounters. It’s often the mundane moments that actually make the difference in the end.

So here are my (brand) lessons from the train:

#1 – Sometimes, when you feel like you’re in the dark, it’s good to be able to see the tracks and know that even though you’re not sure where the journey is taking you, it’s got a solid base you can see and you’re pretty sure you’re going in the right direction. Don’t keep consumers in the dark with no tracks, they’re going to hop off at the first opportunity.

# 2 – Sometimes the things you think are downright ugly, turn out to be beautiful from the train. Don’t censor so much.

#3 – Sometimes, there is a wire in the way of the perfect picture you’re trying to create. It doesn’t matter, it’s part of the picture and makes the whole experience more real and therefore more wonderful. In fact, more and more consumers would rather see the wires behind the perfect picture which they know are there anyway, and the truthfulness of it helps them feel empowered and involved rather than excluded and patronised. Don’t pretend so much.

#4 – The tracks don’t always run straight or in one direction. It’s ok. Any journey is like that, the uniqueness and the interesting things you find along the way are what make it worthwhile. Allow consumers to meander with your brands a little, let them explore – just make sure they don’t wander off the tracks completely. Make sure the tracks you’re laying have enough interest to keep them coming back.

#5 – Make sure the signs you put up along the way are legible. And worth reading. There’s nothing more annoying than missing one you wanted to read, or reading one and feeling like it was a waste of time. You only have a handful of moments to really talk to your consumers, make them count.

#6 – Sometimes, you have to change engines along the way. Make sure you know what drives your brand, and if you have to change engines sometime, make it clean, make sure you use the best crew, and let everyone know what’s going on. Otherwise you’ll leave all your consumers standing on the tracks behind you, wondering what happened.

Come to think of it, do you even know what drives your brand?

And finally, #7 – the exit is important. Consumers come and go for trillions of reasons, so don’t miss the opportunity of the exit. Make it memorable. Make it positive. Make it hard to leave, even if you have no choice. And then, maybe, you’ll create a brand ambassador from someone who used to be a passenger. And what more could you ask for really?