“Hold the Lettuce, Please”
3 Key Principles for Marketing and Success
This week, I had the opportunity to travel to Dallas with my son. I was making my annual trek to Christian Leadership Alliance’s Outcomes conference, and Jackson wanted to tag along. He pulled the “you took Emma on a work trip” card, and frankly, it’s hard to argue with that classic mom-guilt maneuver.
Ready for a night on the town after accomplishing our wildly important goals!
To say I was reluctant when Jackson first asked would be an understatement. For starters, he’d miss four days of school, which felt like irresponsible parenting. But then I realized he’s in the last two weeks of eighth grade and has adequately met all the basic requirements to “graduate” (insert eye roll). When it comes to middle school, what’s done is done. #yolo
And then there’s the fact that he’d spent a lot of time on his own without my direct supervision. He’s 14 years old, and according to the state of Illinois, at the point where he can legally be left to his own devices for moderate blocks of time.
But did I mention he’s a strong-willed 14-year-old boy?
Who is frequently mistaken as being five or more years older than he really is?
With the smarts and determination to do just about anything?
But without the impulse control to harness those powers?
Lastly, I was convinced that he would be hopelessly bored and regret his decision to go with me. Boy, was I wrong on that front! Jackson had the time of his life in Texas.
Between exploring the hotel, swimming, eating snacks while watching TV in bed, visiting exhibitors for free swag, going on missions as my “personal assistant,” and frequenting the complimentary coffee bar, Jackson was living his best life. He’d set two wildly important goals for our trip: buying a cowboy hat and visiting Buc-ee’s. We successfully accomplished both.
During my downtime, I was able to build truly special memories with Jackson that I’ll treasure forever. On one occasion, we met for lunch at the hotel restaurant, where I offered to treat him to (almost) whatever entrée he desired from the overpriced menu. To my great surprise, when the server arrived, he requested the fajita salad—hold the cheese.
“Wow! You’re really branching out,” I said. “A salad? Didn’t see that coming! No cheese is weird, but you do you, Boo.”
“Shoot!” he said, slapping his forehead. “I forgot to tell her to leave off the lettuce.”
Say what?!
When our food arrived, Jackson was visibly disappointed. He took a side plate and slowly started separating the greens from the meat. At the end of our meal, I asked him if he was happy with his selection.
“It was okay,” he said, “and I appreciate you getting it for me. It’s just that there was far too much lettuce and too little steak for my taste.”
Salad Being Salad
Among Jackson’s favorite pastimes is capturing super flattering “.5 photos” of me.
Throughout that meal and the entire week, the absurdity of Jackson’s expectations brought me endless delight and reasons to tease him. He continued to surprise me with his adolescent perspective. For example, he declared Silly Putty as the single greatest giveaway he picked up from the exhibit hall. “You guys should consider giving that away from Barnabas Foundation’s booth next year.”
Needless to say, however, my son was not the target audience for the leadership conference or Hyatt DFW’s in-house restaurant. Set within the airport, their atmosphere and exquisite meals are catered to grown men and women traveling through for conferences and business.
And frankly, that fajita salad was doing its thing. It was a salad being a salad, a perfectly portioned balance of vegetables to toppings. It was, in fact, a beautifully crafted culinary masterpiece I wish I’d ordered myself. #chefskiss
Naturally, I returned the favor, taking a .5 of Jackson to document our shared fine dining experience.
As grateful as I am to all who welcomed my son as an honorary guest, I would be shocked and disappointed if the conference, venue, or dining experiences were ever recalibrated according to his feedback.
3 Key Principles
In this experience, I was reminded of three key principles that have served me well, both in marketing and in life.
1. Know your audience.
It’s a fundamental truth of marketing: you are not for everyone. That’s not a flaw, it’s the strategy.
The Hyatt didn’t design that fajita salad with a lettuce-averse 14-year-old in mind. They designed it for business travelers who expect a certain level of quality, balance, and presentation. And they delivered exactly that.
Too often in marketing, we panic at the first sign of disconnect. One person doesn’t like the message, the offer, the tone—and suddenly we’re tempted to rewrite everything. But if that person was never your audience to begin with, their confusion isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a signal to stay focused.
Clarity about your audience simplifies everything: your messaging, your channels, your creative, even your confidence. When you know who you’re trying to reach, you stop overcorrecting for everyone else.
Not every “miss” is a mistake. Sometimes it’s just misalignment.
2. Be true to who you are.
A salad that tries to be a steak ends up disappointing everyone.
There’s a temptation in marketing to morph into whatever seems most appealing in the moment, to chase trends, mimic competitors, or soften your distinctives to broaden your reach. In doing so, you risk losing the very thing that makes you most effective.
“There’s a temptation in marketing to morph into whatever seems most appealing in the moment, to chase trends, mimic competitors, or soften your distinctives to broaden your reach. In doing so, you risk losing the very thing that makes you most effective.”
That fajita salad was unapologetically a salad. Balanced. Intentional. Well-composed. It didn’t try to compensate for someone who wanted “more steak, less lettuce.” It trusted its design. Your organization should do the same.
The strongest brands I know are incredibly clear on who they are and what they’re not. They don’t dilute their message to accommodate every preference. They lean into their strengths, even when it means not being the right fit for some.
3. Feedback is an input, not a mandate.
Jackson’s review was honest, passionate… and completely irrelevant to the restaurant’s strategy.
Unfortunately, this is where many of us go off course. We treat every piece of feedback as if it carries equal weight. If we’re not careful, a single opinion can derail a well-thought-out plan.
Good marketers listen. Great marketers filter. Feedback should absolutely inform your decisions, but it shouldn’t dictate them. Not all feedback comes from your target audience. Not all feedback reflects your goals. And not all feedback is rooted in an understanding of what you’re trying to accomplish.
The key is discernment.
Is this feedback coming from someone we’re trying to reach?
Does it align with our strategy?
Is this a pattern or a one-off preference?
If the answer is no, you can smile, say “thank you,” and keep moving forward with what you’ve been designed and called to do.
You Do You, Boo
In the end, not every opinion requires a pivot. Sometimes the best thing you can do, for your marketing and for your sanity, is to stay rooted in who you are and who you’re called to serve.
The goal isn’t to eliminate all friction; it’s to create clarity. When the right audience sits down at the table, they’ll be grateful you got the balance just right.
As for Jackson, he walked away with a cowboy hat, a Buc-ee’s t-shirt, and a renewed skepticism of salads.
And me? I walked away, reminded that great marketing isn’t about stripping things down to please every preference. It’s about building something so well-suited for the right audience that it doesn’t need explaining.
So, here’s to knowing your people, owning your recipe, and being true to who you are. Here’s to those who are killing it as salads. Keep excelling at what you do best!
You do you, Boo. You don’t need to be a steak, just because someone asked.