Getting the Frequency Right.

We emit a vibrational frequency all the time, like a bunch of donged at tuning forks. When interacting with others, if there’s chemistry – we match, if there’s not – we don’t. Matching frequencies helps us establish rapport, like entering a vibrating bubble of kinship that, when inside, we feel close and – because of the exclusivity – special.

A psychological hack that adjusts our frequency and anchors us in this vibrational space is the sound of our name. It snaps our attention like dried spaghetti, neurological signals buzz about in our nut that go – DING – I’m special, every time it’s uttered. Even if it’s to someone else twenty foot away. Ever noticed that? It’s not even about me, but it feels like it is.

It’s why any ‘Sales 101’ course worth its salt will teach you to address your prospect by first name. You’ll be liked more, and sell more. Starbucks writes your name on your cup and email-marketers use the [insert name] function like they’ve rustled up embroidered name-tags your mum used to use and digitally stitched it into the collar of your email.

At its genesis, the personalised name tag function was designed to make you feel more intimate with – and exclusive to – a faceless entity that had no real affinity to you except for the potential sale. But the enamour is short lived. Your name’s been scattered about like rice at a wedding; it’s overdone; it’s anticipated. Me and my mate Chantel even play this game at Starbucks of who can come up with the weirdest name – Jafar (the bad guy from Aladin) being the reigning champion (mine.) The novelty of our own names having worn-off, we seek newer, more interesting, cup-side identities.

Why do you think the ‘Share a Coke’ campaign – where cans were branded with first names rather than the Coca-Cola logo – was so poignant? Because it was short-lived, otherwise it’d have just been like those flowery, rubber, name keyrings you get at Clintons or, I dunno, truck stops?

Novelty is short lived because of overexposure, and – like anything feigned – the personalised name tag movement has become diluted and uninteresting because of copy-cat, unimaginative marketers. It’s the new 80’s haircut. Once cool, but now a bit ropey.

Despite its intent, this attempt to forge a sense of aligned frequencies has created a gulf, not a connection. We ignore emails with our names in the subject (unless we know the sender) and we feel silly when do fall for it. Like when your Dad does the amputated thumb trick; blows your mind at first, but on closer inspection, it’s a bit lame and you feel like a muppet (then you do it to your nephew and feel all big and special again.)

What never loses its enamour is authenticity. A real conversation that cannot be reproduced. Not forced upon you but shared with you. Tuning into one another’s frequencies where you can have a real-time, interactional fiesta, rather than an invitation to watch the replays released to a whole audience – which is just a nice way to say ‘group of people privy to one message.’

So, I invite you to tune into my broadcast – the real Caroline frequency – by emailing me at: with your name, what I can help you with, or any queries in relation to my services, so we can set up a one-off, personalised phone or Skype call to see if we’re a match.

It’s alright getting personal, It’s just about getting the frequency right.