Buyology - Martin Lindstrom [70]
Even Coca-Cola has had some embarrassing product flops. Remember 1985’s New Coke? Though it fared well in consumer research, once it hit the stores with great fanfare it tanked big-time, and the company was forced to withdraw it. Case closed? No. In 2006, the company announced that it was launching a new line of its famous soft drink containing small amounts of coffee called Coca-Cola BlaK. Two years in development, the product was lauded by Coke executives as “the refreshing taste of an ice-cold Coca-Cola that finishes with a rich essence of coffee.” “Only Coca-Cola can deliver that distinct combination of flavors,”2 Katie Bayne, senior vice-president with Coca-Cola North America, was quoted as saying. But consumers were indifferent, sales were abysmal, and a year or so later, Coke discontinued the product. It was much like when fifteen years earlier, after two years of disappointing sales, the Adolph Coors company quit manufacturing its “beer-branded mineral water,” Coors Rocky Mountain Sparkling Water,3 or when Crystal Pepsi hit the dust in 1993, after only a year on the supermarket shelves.
Certain tobacco products have met similar fates. In 1998, R.J. Reynolds invested approximately $325 million to create a smokeless tobacco known as “Premier.” Unfortunately, consumers weren’t all that wild about the taste, and the product didn’t take. Reporter magazine was later quoted as saying, “Inhaling the Premier required vacuum-powered lungs, lighting it virtually required a blowtorch, and, if successfully lit with a match, the sulphur reaction produced a smell and a flavor that left users retching.”4
And E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial may have been one of the biggest-grossing movies of all time, but its success sure didn’t carry over to the E.T. video game for Atari 2600. According to one Web site, “E.T. is notorious for being what many believe to be the worst game ever.” As the rumor goes, to get rid of all the unsold copies, the president of Atari had to have them buried in a New Mexico dump.5
The point is, whether it’s soda or cigarettes or video games—or any other item under the sun—companies are woefully bad at predicting how we as consumers will respond to their products. As I’ve been saying throughout this book, because how we say we feel about a product can never truly predict how we behave, market research is largely unreliable and can at times seriously mislead a company or even completely undo a product. For example, the Ford Motor Company once asked consumers what features they most wanted in their automobiles. Consumers responded, the supposedly ideal “American Car” model was built—and it flopped.6
So is neuromarketing the answer to companies’ prayers? Could this nascent yet budding science be the holy grail—what advertisers and marketers and executives have been waiting for all their lives? Better yet, can neuromarketing help companies create products that we consumers actually like? And if so, can neuromarketing succeed where market research has resoundingly failed: Can it reliably, scientifically predict the failure of a brand or product?
It was time to find out by screening one of the screechiest TV game shows I’d ever seen in my life. Take a seat—it’s time for Quizmania.
COULD TV VIEWERS guess the name of the male singer?
It could have been just about anybody. The singer’s identity was concealed behind a blue banner in the middle of Quizmania’s hallucinogenic set, which included a jukebox,