The Adgenda: "Lemonade" ads are a smart move from HSBC

Although the music is kind of creepy.

HSBC has put a cheery face on banking with a grade-school entrepreneur in their ads Lemonade and Lemon Grove.

The first video starts with the all-American summer image of a kid earning some pocket money from her home-made lemonade stand. Suddenly trouble arises when her latest customer doesn’t have any American change. Not to worry, turns out not only does our littelest businesswoman cover all major currencies, she also speaks Cantonese. Cue a bus full of new customers and an emerging local lemonade monopoly for international customers.

This raises some questions though. Does the dad get a cut of the profits? Is her home-made sign a lewd marketing campaign playing on the “innocent small business” image? Does she skim a few percentages over the exchange rate for herself? She’s obviously put a lot of thought into this. Fast forward to the next video and the situation has escalated wildly. She now has a lemonade empire stretching at least from America to France. She has also shown her true colours as a hyper competent polyglot with revenues large enough to fly to India to expand her supply routes.

What are the fathers thinking throughout all this? Are they really as naïve as the video leads us to believe and just play along with their daughters little game of merchant? Seems so as when the girl storms off for her next corporate adventure her dad is completely out of the loop. Did she only bring him as a cover story for border controls? If the story and her business follow this exponential growth the next video will feature a global mafia-like organisation, run entirely by twelve-year olds, with complete control of the world’s lemonade trade. The slogan of the ads confirm this: “In the future even the smallest business will be multinational.” Imagine the money she saves alone on using nothing but child labour. She has definitely not filed the official paperwork and who would prosecute a kid working at a street side lemonade stand? The rest of us will simply have to pray she doesn’t turn her attention beyond lemonade.

On a more serious note this is a smart move from HSBC’s side. Bankers have not exactly enjoyed a great image in the last decade, or for that sake, ever. A positive spin and a loveable character are standard for defusing blame and shifting attention. But it seems to focus a bit too much on presentation and too little on outcome. How did the advertisement team picture this play out? An executive wondering which bank could best suit his new takeover and bam his mind flies to HSBC because of an ad which seemed more suited as a storyline for one of his kids’ tv-shows?

Andrea Newman, global head of advertising and marketing communications, HSBC, said the purpose of HSBC’s “In the future” campaign aims to: “bring a sense of warmth, simplicity and optimism to inspire growth.”

The choice of music is terrible and kind of creepy though.

HSBC Photograph: Getty Images
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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.