There’s never been a better time to be an amateur athlete, what with all the high tech, GPS-based gear out there that can entertain, advise, motivate, coach and track hikers, climbers, runners, cyclists and the like.

That’s not as true, however, for swimmers. Admittedly, it’s a bit more difficult to use (not to mention strap on) electronic gadgets when your sport takes place underwater. That said, there are a couple of recent inventions that have caught my eye. One is an mp3 player that transmits music to the brain through bone-conduction (I’m not ready for that one yet). Another is a wristwatch-like device that promises to track time, laps, speed and turnover for all four major strokes. Now that’s a welcome invention to any swimmer who hates counting laps (which, by the way, is every swimmer).

I became aware of this device several months ago, but was a little hesitant to buy the first generation (battery-powered gadgets seldom last long in a watery environment). But I’ve been slowly coming around, paying special attention to my own purchase decision process. It began with an article I read in a swimming magazine, a common way to discover new products. I then began noticing ads for the product in the same publication, which led me to go to the web to have a look. I wasn’t ready to buy yet, but the PR, advertising and online components of the marketing plan were all working.

A few weeks later I found myself in Best Buy and happened to notice they carried the product. I picked up the box, turned it over in my hand, and read every word on it. I still wasn’t ready to buy, but the retail plan was doing its job. Not long after that I went to a swim meet where the manufacturer had sponsored a vendor booth. I was able to slip the device on my wrist, play around with its buttons, and ask the rep about the warranty. Although I still wasn’t quite ready to pull the trigger, he answered my questions satisfactorily and almost had me convinced. Chalk one up for the trade show program.

A few weeks after I got home, I received a postcard offering an exclusive 10% discount to meet participants. The offer was good for only a limited time, so I finally decided to go for it. The direct mail offer was the last link in an impressive and convincing chain that took me from unaware prospect to enthusiastic buyer.

Until I tried to order.

Everything worked well on the website until I entered the coupon code, which for some reason didn’t take. I tried again. It failed again. I was a little frustrated, but knowing these things happen I filled out a customer relations contact form. Shortly after I hit “send” I received an automated response, notifying me that the company would take up to 48 hours to reply. No problem, I thought–that’s pretty standard, and since I had waited this long another couple of days wasn’t going to hurt. It was a snafu, to be sure, but the e-commerce backup plan was working.

That was more than two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard a thing since. I don’t know what pains me more–the consumer dissatisfaction of not getting what I want, or the professional anguish of watching a perfectly good integrated marketing strategy go down in flames. Think about all of the time and money the company spent nursing me along, only to drop the ball at the finish line. I don’t want to mention any names, not only because there’s nothing to be gained by calling the company out, but because I feel a certain sympathy for it. What happened to them can happen to any of us.

The most magnificent plan in the world isn’t worth the paper on which it’s printed if it’s not executed to the smallest detail. For reminding me of that lesson alone I’ll give this company another chance, and hopefully the story will have a happy ending. But how many people out there will just give up and move on if and when something like this happens to them?

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a portfolio only as good as its weakest piece, and an integrated marketing program only as effective as its weakest element. As the world of branding grows ever more complex, we must never forget that execution is (and always will be) everything.

Gap’s top designer, Patrick Robinson, may never go into a 7-11 again, having gone from promising hire in ’07 to out of a job in ‘11. As The Wall Street Journal’s Elizabeth Holmes recently reported, “[Robinson’s] departure after four years of lackluster results was yet another sign of Gap Inc.’s failure to breathe new life into its namesake brand, which peaked in the mid-1990s.”

True that. Gap’s same store sales have declined for 14 of the past 16 quarters, including a 1 percent decline in the first quarter of this year. As a result, Pam Wallack, head of Gap’s global creative center, decided to shake things up at the top of the company’s design ranks.

Whether or not the change is warranted I can’t say (I’m not exactly a fashion-forward guy), but methinks Gap may be overlooking something. I’m not sure the company brass realizes just how powerful advertising can be—or in Gap’s case, how powerful its advertising once was.

In When Growth Stalls I recount how Gap became the nation’s largest specialty retailer in the 1990s, growing from under $500 million in revenue in 1983 to over $11 billion at the end of the century. The brand’s cultural impact reached its peak in 1998 with the release of “Khakis Swing”, a commercial in which a group of buff, beautiful young people swing-danced in their Gap Khakis to Louis Prima’s “Jump, Jive an’ Wail.” Adweek called the spot “hyperkinetic,” a colorful adjective that also described the impact it had in the marketplace. Gap was the hippest brand in retail, and the company was anointed 1998’s “Marketer of the Year” by Advertising Age.

But in 1999, Gap ran into trouble. Lisa Prisco, the creative director behind its famous campaigns, moved on, and same store sales began their long and steady decline. Could it really have been advertising that made the difference?

Sure.The WSJ’s Holms says that the shake-up at Gap “underscores how difficult it can be for a retailer to set itself apart with jeans, T-shirts and other staples that can be found everywhere.” Precisely. It’s not as if Gap sells anything truly unique.When Gap’s commercials were cool, they made Gap cool, which made Gap’s clothing cool, which made those who shop there cool. It was advertising that differentiated the brand.

When was the last time you were wowed by a Gap commercial? I thought so. Gap needs to take care of its design needs, to be sure, but the company would do well to recapture its old marketing mojo. If Gap’s advertising could once again knock people’s socks off, it may make them want to buy new ones—and the slacks and shirts that go with them.

Anybody who’s been in business for any length of time knows that, from a marketing standpoint, something fundamental has changed over the past few years. In an odd way, there has never been a better time to be a stalled, stuck or stale brand. Let me explain.

In the old world–the world dominated by advertising–brands interrupted consumers in segments by running static messages in third-party content. In the world of integrated marketing, by contrast, brands interact with consumers as individuals by integrating dynamic messages into their personal content. The rules have changed dramatically, and that spells opportunity for companies that are willing to be imaginative and inventive.

Richard Rumelt, professor at UCLA’s Anderson School of Management, put it this way: “A structural break is the very best time to be a strategist, for at the moment of change old sources of competitive advantage weaken and new sources appear.”

Bingo. Struggling brands can change the game by moving more quickly than their competitors from interruption to interaction, from segmentation to individualization, from static to dynamic, and from third-party to first-party. The integrated marketing revolution has not only unleashed a variety of new possibilities, it has created a host of new sensibilities and sensitivities. This complexity is complicating the life of every brand, which could make it a game-changer for yours.

Recently I attended a conference on new media at which one of the speakers cited the Men’s Health iPad app as “the future of publishing.” Everybody (including me) nodded, recognizing how well the magazine has adapted itself to the tablet platform. The app offers not only the ability to view the magazine as it appears in print, but additional features like videos, snap polls, customizable fonts, extra photos, live links, and built-in social media sharing options. Pretty cool stuff.

But then I got to thinking. Is the app really the future, or is it just a step in that direction? And when we look back in a few years, will it have been not such a big step after all?

Consider how magazines came about. The economics of printing and mailing dictated that publishers aggregate bundles of content so they could efficiently deliver them to readers, who in turn unpacked them over the course of a week or a month. There has never been a reader imperative that the subject matter be compiled weekly or monthly; it has simply been the most efficient way to deliver content.

But the economics of digital delivery are different. In a world of tablets and apps there is no longer a financial imperative to bundle content, so why can’t it be delivered daily, hourly, or even according to an individually customized schedule? It can. And it will.

Instead of “supermarket publishing”, asking readers to load up on supplies and ingest them as the week or month unfolds, the new model will look more like a farmer’s market, conveniently located along everyone’s individual daily route so they can enjoy the content they want, when they want it, at peak freshness. In the case of Men’s Health it might be a new breakfast recipe at 6 a.m., breaking medical news as it happens, weekend workouts on Saturday morning—all delivered in the formats most helpful and on the platforms most convenient to the subscriber in the moment.

The coming model will offer fresh content when subscribers are most open to it, and those moments will differ for each individual. This will happen not only because it’s technologically possible but because the new economics of publishing will dictate it. If magazine apps give people too much at once–more than they can ingest in a single sitting– a lot of it may go to waste (especially without a visual reminder laying on a coffee table). If readers don’t believe they’re getting their money’s worth, they’ll stop purchasing. Give them just the right amount at the moment they’re “hungry” for it, however, and they’ll enjoy every bite.

The latest magazine apps are terrific, but nothing like they’re going to be. The exciting thing about living in the digital age is that the future becomes the past in a heartbeat. A good thing to keep in mind as you ponder your own corporate growth strategy.