So you’ve made it to the C-suite at last. You’re now the primary steward of a brand, with all the thrill and responsibility that post entails. Congrats! 

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But before you get too cozy, get ready to meet a new colleague with whom you’ll likely share a complicated relationship. No, not the founder or CEO—your brand’s sacred cow.

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Throughout history, of course, certain traditions have held the cow in holy esteem, revering and protecting them as symbols of non-violence, fertility, even divine blessing. Such customs can still make it tricky to find a decent burger in Bangalore.

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But the brand under your charge contains a sacred cow of a different sort: that long-lived aspect that dare not be challenged, criticized or changed. Whether it’s a hoary old logo, a stale tagline or a signature color from a far-flung decade, your holy bovine embodies “the way it’s always been.”

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Which puts you in quite a bind. The tenure of a Fortune 500 CMO averages just four years—a blink in corporate time. The pressure’s on you to position your brand for success and leave a legacy that will outlast your time in that corner office. Yet your sacred cow looms, untouchable, chewing away at its proverbial cud.

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Your first instinct might be trying your hand at that heralded pastime of the flyover states: cow tipping. You find a quiet time when it dozes off, give a firm nudge, and be quickly on your way. Remind yourself that every iconic brand revered today was once a rebel of its time, and you’ll be the CMO with the guts to break the rules.

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One big problem with this strategy, though: cow tipping isn’t real. Actual bovines rarely sleep standing up, and they’re far too heavy for even a corn-fed linebacker to push over. The whole notion is, in fact, a rural legend once concocted to lampoon Midwesterners with the suggestion that we’ve little to do. (Which is false for at least three months a year.) 

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Similarly, most brand sacred cows really are immovable, propped up by years of cultural guardrails. Disregarding them completely could trim your CMO tenure from four years to four days. 

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Your second gambit might be an attempt to steer your sacred cow instead. Treat it like a mighty ox and guide it methodically toward a new pasture.

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This more conservative approach may be tempting, since cows carry themselves with a certain quiet resignation, making them adaptable over time. But remember: an ox is a castrated bull. A distinction rendering them pleasantly docile, but painfully sluggish. 

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Treating a brand that gently risks being outpaced by competitors who still have their—let’s say, moxie. And working at that languid pace of change, your time in the CMO chair will soon expire.

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Which leaves a third stratagem: treat yourself to a nice, juicy steak.

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Approach the sacred cow like your body would a USDA Prime New York strip. Consume it voraciously, retaining the components that are useful—protein, iron, vitamin B12—and quietly, discreetly discarding what you don’t need. (Even vegetarians should consider the metaphor with one of the fine plant-based products now available.)

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As with a sizzling entree, preparation is key. Preserve an older part of your brand’s legacy that’s still relevant in the current market, dry aging the brand to improve overall taste and texture. Do a bit of massaging among your stakeholders, relieving stress like working Japanese Wagyu cattle. And apply your own secret blend of spices to awaken just the right new flavors that can make a great cut sing.

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Ultimately, your cow can undergo its own sacred rebirth, transforming your brand in a way that honors its symbolic value while preparing your employer for greener pastures ahead. Plus you’ll do it quickly enough to stay ahead of the competition and, critically, hang onto that sweet gig for a while.

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We wish you all the best in your new role, and whenever you might need a little advice, we’ll be ready to chew the fat.

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Indelibly yours,

Matt, Mike, Thom & Jeff