Buyology - Martin Lindstrom [1]
Through the end of the twentieth century merchants and marketers had two ways of examining the efficacy of their efforts. First was tracking sales. What are people buying and what can we ascertain from their purchase patterns? I call it the view from the cash register. The problem is that it validates your victories and losses without really explaining why they’re happening. So they bought Jif peanut butter, even though Skippy was on sale.
The second tool was the traditional market research process of asking questions. We can stop people as they stroll down the concourse of the mall, we can call them up on the phone, we can invite them to a focus group or ask them to join an Internet panel. I know from long experience that what people say they do and what they actually do are different. It does not mean that those two tools are not functional, just that they are limited. Just as advertising and branding still work—but they don’t work the same way they used to.
The problem was that we are better at collecting data than doing anything with it. In the nineties the offices of many market researchers were stacked with printouts, whether on television ratings and viewing, scanner data from sales research, or the results of thousands of phone interviews. We learned that soccer moms between the ages of 28 and 32, driving late model minivans and living in small towns, prefer Jif two to one over Skippy. What do we do with the information? As one cynical friend suggested, we are looking to get beyond the so what, big deal, and what-can-I-do-with-this information test.
Science and marketing have historically had a love-hate relationship. In the 1950s academicians ventured out of their ivory towers and began collaborating with advertising agencies. Vance Packard’s seminal book The Hidden Persuaders describes that golden era that lasted less than a decade. Making moms feel good about feeding their children Jell-O, or deconstructing why a sexy sports car in the front of the Ford dealership sold Plain Jane sedans off the back lot. Much of it was simple and logical. Applying it was easy with three major television channels and roughly a dozen popular magazines. The relationship started unraveling when stuff just went wrong. In the fifties, in spite of the best brains and a very healthy marketing budget, the Edsel flopped. Thirty years later New Coke tanked.
For the past three decades the science in market research was more about higher math than psychology. Statistical relevance, sample size, standard deviation, Z-tests and T-tests and so on. The absolutes of math are somehow safer. I like to think that the modern market researcher is in the business of making his clients better gamblers by seeking to cut the odds. Call it a cross between scientist and crystal ball reader: someone fast enough to get it right and with enough gift of gab to tell a believable story.
In this volume, Martin, who has spent the past ten years developing new research tools, steps off into neuromarketing. This book is about the new confluence of medical knowledge and technology and marketing, where we add the ability to scan the brain as a way of understanding brain stimulations. What part of the brain reacts to the Coca-Cola logo? How do we understand what part of sex sells?
I guarantee you, it’s an enjoyable and informative ride. From fishing villages in Japan to locked corporate boardrooms in Paris to a medical laboratory in Oxford, England, Martin has a treasure chest of fascinating insights to impart and stories to tell. And whatever your feelings about brands and branding—or whether you have any feelings on the subject at all—he’ll keep you