The “Brand Game” is changing. It’s time we get over it.

There’s this petit coffee shop–no longer just a coffee shop–less than a block away from our co-working offices. It’s quaint, simple and delicious. It’s also located in a reclaimed space in my favorite industrial neighborhood 😍 My co-worker and I frequent it… frequently, to say the least.

Now… we don’t always love everything we order, but–to my co-worker’s point the other day–I always trust what they have to offer. If the roast changes, so be it. I trust them. And even if I’m not obsessed with the coffee that day, I always enjoy the experience. The baristas–friendly as hell–know my name and my order. They always have comedy to interject into stressful days, and I’m obsessed with the way they all dress; I think I need some lessons or I may just have to steal one of their shirts one day (yes, I’m talking about your Succulent-T, Ryan…). Oh, and then there’s things like this:

Needless to say, I like-like.

After moving in October of ’15 and settling into my new office space–I’ll be honest I’m not really sure when they opened–I started visiting daily. And then something slowly began to happen. Almost every time I entered the space I noticed something different; always subtle, but incredibly recognizable. Every time I would ask, “Hey! That (insert random thing here) is cool. Why the change?”

And every time the answer was fairly similar (note: consistency = important):

“Oh yeah! Well… we’re exploring some different options for the space and looking into adding some food & liquor at some point. It’s a process so we’re just taking it one step at a time. We don’t even really know everything yet, just the owners. Kind of exciting, huh?”

Each time it was enough to satiate my curiosities. I ordered my almost-milky, iced Americano–with an extra shot, duh–and went on my merry way.

The cycle continued–consistently–over the next six months or so, until one day my co-worker and I realized that the space had completely changed. Like… completely. Different seating, different counter, different materials. Everything was different; except for the people, the coffee, and quality of service. Before we knew it our senses were enveloped by the scent of cooking sausages.

Food now? They really weren’t joking.

Another day their hours changed to 10pm and there was a drink menu. Beer?! Yasss.

Change, change, change.

And finally, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. We didn’t even notice it at first; not even while ordering. It wasn’t until I was waltzing away from the counter that I recognized the sign outside had been replaced.

Port Side, it read.

I immediately turned around, bumping the person who was attempting to make an order and almost shouted, “Wait! You changed your name?!”

Normally the way a company does this makes me a bit frustrated. I’m all for determining that an identity is no longer representative of the organization for whatever reason, leading to spending countless hours and dollars making said changes. Hell, it’s what I do for a living. There’s just one small problem…

Some of the most recent corporations who’ve done this, like Uber or Instagram/FB, forgot something when they decided to embark on a brand evolution. This resulted in massive blowouts of anger and frustration from loyal customers–millllllions of them. When everyone was blaming bad logos and crappy UI/UX design, I couldn’t help but notice a deeper issue.

They forgot they were in a relationship with us. They forgot that WE–who use their service on the daily, and potentially even depend on it–kind of actually care about the value and meaning of the brand. Why? Because it’s a reflection of us, and therefore a part of us.

And when meaning + value = happiness + health… well, you do the math.

It’s not that I–or many other people (I hope)–are not open to change, however intense or difficult it may be. What I’m not open to, however, is having enormous amounts of change imposed on me with absolutely no warning whatsoever.

So what’s the difference between Instagram and Huckleberry Roasters (now Port Side)?

Huckleberry let me in; gave me access to the process and purpose of change, and then to the transition that followed. They were vulnerable.

In fact I got to see most of the alterations first hand, even the ones that didn’t stay. Slowly and surely they chugged forward, making subtle shifts along the way. And they didn’t ask for my opinion or my thoughts. They didn’t even have all the answers.

But they were transparent, honest, and consistent. Oh… and they answered me when I asked, “What the hell is happening?” Why? Because they cared enough to know.

When they became Port Side, sure it took me a minute to get used-to. But I wasn’t overtly confused or concerned, or even angry. I was relieved. The story I’d been involved in as a customer through all the minor transitions finally had an ending. And it made so much sense. You could even say it was delicious ;)

When Instagram (#sorrynotsorry to keep harping guys…) released their statement describing the purpose of their brand evolution, I was floored.

Brands, logos and products develop deep connections and associations with people, so you don’t just want to change them for the sake of novelty. But the Instagram icon and design was beginning to feel, well… not reflective of the community, and we thought we could make it better. — Ian Spalter

I’m like… so seriously moved… by nothing he just said.

And you know how long they “knew” this? Two years. And all they got was more haterz.

Huckleberry/ Port Side? I don’t know how long they’d been on this journey internally. But within less than a year they grew their business into something beautiful, and I love it. Judging by the fact that it’s never empty, I’m guessing others do too.

We’ve forgotten (or maybe we’re just now learning) that businesses have one job above everything else: give a shit. If you don’t, how do you expect your customers to?

Funnily enough, there’s an easy answer to “how to give a shit.” And it’s not 24/7 chat, or free shipping or unlimited access.

We’ve even been practicing it for thousands of years. Technically, I’ve already told you in this post. #noLies

Ready for it?

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Build relationships.

Yup. It’s that simple.

Is it easy? Nope. In fact, it’s really hard. It’s one of the most difficult things to do. But it’s also the most rewarding and impactful.

We need relationships. They’re like critical to our health, or whatever. And with all the crap going on, I’m pretty sure you’ve noticed something’s not right.

It’s time we start realizing it; sooner-than-later we better start doing it. Does it suck we can’t mass-manufacture relationships on an assembly line?

I sure hope not. Our survival may even depend on it, methinks.