Performance or storytelling? Life or death, actually

There are two kinds of marketing.

One is about numbers. Sales. Market share. Margins. It’s brutal, measurable, accountable.

The other is about culture. Stories. Being loved. Winning awards. It’s glamorous, intoxicating, and usually expensive.

Marketing and advertising legends Sergio Zyman and John Hegarty symbolize these two worlds. Zyman, the former Coca-Cola CMO, never let anyone forget that marketing’s only job is to sell. Hegarty, the creative knight, built a career telling brands they should “zig” when others “zag” — and turned advertising into theatre.

Both men changed the industry. But only one of them speaks the language of business. And if you’re the one writing the cheque, that difference should matter more than anything else.

Zyman, or The discipline of selling

Zyman’s philosophy is mercilessly clear:

“The sole purpose of marketing is to sell more to more people, more often and at higher prices. There is no other reason to do it.”

This wasn’t a slogan. It was how he ran Coca-Cola’s marketing engine.

He greenlit Diet Coke in 1982, which by the mid-80s became the most successful product launch in Coca-Cola’s history. He oversaw Cherry Coke, Fruitopia, and others that added billions in incremental sales. He created the “Coke Is It” campaign, one of the brand’s most aggressive pushes to defend market share against Pepsi.

Even his most famous failure — New Coke — wasn’t the cautionary tale people pretend it was. Yes, consumers hated it. Yes, it was pulled within months. But the backlash reignited loyalty to “Coca-Cola Classic” and strengthened Coke’s dominance. Zyman never shied from risk because risk sharpened learning and forced brands to fight harder.

His style was uncompromising: define clear metrics, track outcomes, and kill what doesn’t deliver. It wasn’t art, it wasn’t poetry — it was business.

Hegarty, or The cult of creativity

Hegarty’s career was very different.

At Saatchi & Saatchi, then later at BBH (Bartle Bogle Hegarty), he built campaigns that became cultural touchstones. Levi’s “Launderette” (1985) was more than an ad — it turned jeans into a sexual and cultural symbol. Audi’s “Vorsprung durch Technik” became a global slogan of engineering pride. Johnnie Walker’s “Keep Walking” was a rallying cry for ambition.

Hegarty believed advertising had to be memorable, stylish, and above all, creative. “When the world zigs, zag,” he declared — originality itself as a business plan.

And for big, well-capitalized brands with decades of history, sometimes it worked. Levi’s became iconic. Audi climbed into the premium tier. Johnnie Walker unified its image worldwide.

But here’s the question nobody dares ask: at what cost, and with what consistency?

Levi’s, despite its “cool” factor, entered steep decline in the 1990s. Audi’s growth was driven as much by Volkswagen’s billions in R&D, design, and dealership expansion as by a line in an ad. Johnnie Walker still fights in a commoditized whisky market, where shelf space and distribution matter more than lofty slogans.

In other words, Hegarty’s work made agencies famous. But it didn’t reliably protect the companies paying the bills.

The luxury of scale

Here’s the crucial distinction.

If you’re a multinational corporation, with billions to throw at global advertising, you can afford Hegarty’s way. You can plaster your name across Times Square, Piccadilly Circus, Shibuya Crossing. You can hire A-list directors and hope the cultural halo sticks. If the campaign misses, you absorb it. The cost is noise in your financial statements.

But if you’re an EU SME turning over €20 million, €50 million, maybe €200 million — the story is different. Every euro is scrutinized. Every campaign must justify itself. You don’t have the luxury of waiting years for “brand equity” to maybe trickle down into sales. You can’t afford indulgence.

This is where Hegarty’s gospel becomes lethal. SMEs across Europe have been sold the dream of cultural advertising, only to find themselves burned by pretty campaigns that didn’t move the needle. Many never recovered. The agencies who sold them the dream? They’re still here. Still winning awards. Still pitching the same story to the next client.

Accountability vs. indulgence

The divide is simple: accountability.

• Zyman: If it doesn’t sell, kill it. If it works, scale it. Always measure, always justify.

• Hegarty and his disciples: Trust the process. Believe in creativity. Wait for culture to shift. Don’t ask awkward questions about ROI.

The first is discipline. The second is indulgence. And indulgence kills businesses.

Creative genius and the agency racket

Let’s be blunt: the Hegarty model has fed and still feeds an entire industry that is, in many ways, self-serving. Agencies love ideas that win awards, because awards attract new clients. They love strategies built on “brand love,” because brand love is impossible to measure. They love cultural storytelling because cultural storytelling can’t be audited against sales.

The result? Thousands of companies have poured fortunes into campaigns that entertained the public, won trophies for the agency—while delivering nothing to the balance sheet.

Marketing, in this model, becomes an expensive indulgence devoid of any real business purpose — a vanity theater where the agency gets rich and the client gets left with nothing but invoices and excuses. In some cases, that may well be alright—let Apple do whatever they want with their petty cash.

But for the rest of the world, if marketing is ever to regain credibility, its people must find their way back to the basics of business. Back to sales. Back to margins. Back to the knowledge of how commerce actually works.

Who would you listen to?

So picture this. You’re in your boardroom. Zyman walks in. Hegarty walks in. Both pitch you their philosophy.

Zyman says: “Here’s how we’ll measure. Here’s how we’ll track. If it doesn’t sell, we cut it. If it does, we scale it. The only thing that matters is the number at the bottom of your statement.”

Hegarty says: “Trust me. In time this campaign will become part of culture. People will talk about it. You’ll be remembered.”

Now remember: this isn’t Never-Neverland. This is your business. Your money. Your risk. Your people’s payday on the line. Who do you actually believe?

If you’re serious, if you’ve got real skin in the game, if you know that survival comes before style — you put your money on Zyman.

Because while businesses might fail from lack of creativity, they definitely fail from a lack of sales.