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January 2014 Archives -

January 2014 Posts

The Limitation of Metrics: What We Miss When We Listen Only to the Numbers

I am a statistic. Really, I’m one thousand statistics in a number of studies. I am an American Caucasian (63%), male (50.1%), married (51%), living in California (12% of US citizens) , and exhibiting some degree of religious conviction (87%). I represent/am represented by a particular purchasing class. I vote more often for a specific party. I live in a downtown area in an apartment but drive places more times than not. I use my smartphone for just about everything and try to eat locally grown, organic foods.

One could build a relatively accurate depiction of my personality from the information stated above. A skilled marketer might even get me to open a few targeted emails or click through to a website.

But this is just one part of the full story.

Earlier today I sat in a coffee shop and worked from my MacBook Pro. I looked up at some twenty other people with a nearly identical computer participating in the same action. I started thinking about the situation and what it represented. We were a demographic, a statistic. We all probably worked in similar fields but different industries. And up to this point we might all be labeled the same. But we represented an operating system minority.

I’m a late adopter. I came to Apple begrudgingly after a long life with PCs. Tired of crashing hard drives on short term use products that are nearly worthless after two or three years of use, I decided to move on to the operating system of my iPad and iPhone.

And before you think this is an advertisement for Apple, know that I was an anti-MacHead for a number of years. The cult of Mac seemed obsessed with something I found to be inconsequential. “Its just a computer” I would scoff at friends who made the move from Windows.  Why spend extra? Windows is ubiquitous! Why trade out on the popular choice?

But then I bought my first iPhone, a clear upgrade from an early Android OS. The movement was smooth. The features were rich and thoughtful. There was an appeal to the object as much as to the system. I was never more than three clicks away from whatever action I wanted to take. My first iPhone was – and I feel very uncomfortable even saying this – a joy to use. Joy. Not fun, functional, or useful. It was those things. But it was also a joy to hold and use.

A few weeks ago I watched Jobs. I know many Apple fans disliked the movie for its exposure of Steve Jobs in all his deficiencies. But what the movie showed clearly was an obsession with usability and beauty. Apple computers are and have been designed with joy and delight in mind.

Joy is a difficult metric to track. As a marketer who uses an analytics platform daily, I can easily track repeat visitors. I know when a particular customer visits a website and how many pages they view. I can dive deeper in the data and look at their demographics and the type of content they find most interesting. I can see at what point in a video or survey they decide to bail and go somewhere else. And I can see when a  customer leaves to find interesting content through Google after a fruitless search.

This is all great information to have but is far form the whole story. What is missed in interpretive metrics is the intention, not the reason. The intention of the customer or website visitor directly implies a reason or desire floating around in their head for the consumption or use of something. Even the most pragmatic of us all will exhibit a purchasing bias when confronted with two or more products.

The problem is that the tech industry is often obsessed with data. Data is relatively easy (or very tricky!) to pull up and interpret. We can make assumptions and build stories out of data (I do this all the time). But it doesn’t tell you the story of the customer’s feelings.

I’m getting all hippie here, I know. But think of the last time you bought a car or computer. Remember that exciting feeling you felt when you first fired up the engine or pressed power? That rush is an emotion. Emotions guide and direct our actions. Emotions are the conduit for our decision making process, helping us simplify and filter through an array of input and choose an option. The object that can continue to delight and satisfy an emotional desire for the longest is the object that will be most likely replaced with the much the same rather than with a different product. The object that becomes just an object is easily and quickly forgotten or relegated to the pragmatic use bin and forever seen as just a means to an end.

An experience can be like a drug. Make the experience, not just the object, a joy and pleasure and you will not soon be forgotten. When was the last time you heard that one song or songs that drove you through your high school experience? That song is not just notes and words but emotion on demand. You could not forget it if you tried.

It is only when we look through a qualitative lens that we learn the intention of the customer. We can assume, we can interpret, but it is only through listening that we can truly hear the messages written in the subtext.

Andy Warhol is probably most famous for painting Campbell soup cans. When he approached this common, every day object, as many artists have before and since, he presented an object we have taken for granted. This object and design has an inherit beauty. The color, the shape, the design of the can were and are designed to convey meaning to the viewer. The objects have, as he described, lost their meaning. But the beauty is there. We receive emotion upon viewing and a marketer’s job is to tailor the presentation to create as positive an emotion as possible.

I feel something when I turn on my laptop. I have yet to pick it up and not feel a certain amazement at the beauty of such an object. My wife oohs when she picks it up and wants to move over to Apple as well. If we were judging Apple purely based entirely on ownership percentage metrics we could say that Apple is just a fad. Their products are just nice looking but the competition is more useful. If we wanted a computer that will never go out of date, we could assume, we should pick up a PC with exchangeable hard drives and upgradable memory, future proofing our “investment” for many, many years to come.

My assumption is that you can not measure joy or delight with metrics. It is mostly if not only through listening to the language, dynamics, and subtext of an individual and their culture that you can develop insights into the kind of information that will impact business success over the long haul. Metrics are ideal for measuring certain kinds of information. But businesses should listen to other insights as well, using both forms to determine an outcome.

Several years ago I became very interested in the use of Anthropology in business applications. I believe this is even more important than I did then. There are certain skill sets that lend well to different outcomes. An anthropologist, sociologist, or even psychologist will see a different world than the quantitative analyst. We don’t just need to listen to what a customer does, but what they say and mean. We need to learn their intention and hear the rich and valuable emotions that drive the decisions made.


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The Brand and the Customer: Evolving Together and Creating a Unique Story

The self is the continuation of the brand. When we consume a brand we continue the story of the brand in our own lives, as a kind of ambassador. A wise brand will allow the customer to become part of the brand.

There are numerous benefits to such a strategy. Perhaps most importantly this allows for a brand’s unique evolution over time and space at the pace of the customer. All products, people, companies, governments, et al change. A well positioned brand will move with a customer, not the other way around.

Both a product and it’s customer are defined by each other. Today I sat in a coffee shop with twenty others, nearly everyone on a Macbook. Each user fit the profile of the computer, as each computer fit the profile of the user. You could see plainly how a brand is an extension of the user, much as the user is an extension of the brand.

Today we can each create our own brand online. We have social media that will freely advertise us being our very best. We can choose to show off only the best selfies, meals, or travel spots. We create our image and show this to the world. Like PR agencies we police our self image and only allow the best to be shown.

And the world, like us, knows that this is utterly insincere. As we each perform this action we are reminded that others are doing the same. Corporations do the same. Brands also do the same.

But if everyone is doing this, what should then be the reaction of the thoughtful brand? Some might pursue further flash and pomp. Some might try to yell louder or extend their customer base. But perhaps it is wise to consider the opposite.

What would sincerity and transparency look like in a brand? What if brands admitted weakness and limitation? What if through social media brands encouraged people to show their dark side, their weakness, their mistakes?

There is a wonderful trend in marketing that is gaining considerable strength. Storytelling is replacing older models of advertising and usurping in a new era of messaging. This important trend is shaping a new generation of marketing materials.

It will always be a struggle to measure the performance of such marketing using existing metrics. The emotional impact  of building connections between customers and brands is not easily quantifiable.

Sure, we can measure the number of tweets or percentage of return customers. And these are important. But just like how it is nearly or completely impossible to judge the level of caring one person has for another based on gifts or time spent, it is equally difficult to equate the same level of connection between a customer and a brand through the actions they take.

Though challenging to develop and measure, the impact of these emotional connections will far out last any short term campaign. A customer who writes a product or service into his or her life will not soon forget or move on. They will tell the story that they lived.

I believe companies should begin to listen as much to the qualitative as they do the quantitative as the impact of each story on the emotions of both the user and the observers can not be converted to an easy number.

Just like we are each not a number but a rich and complex personality built from experiences and continually changing, the product consumer should be recognized and understood for being the same.

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What Minimalist Packing Can Teach You About Living

If you have ever been on a trip with multiple suitcases you should be able to picture the following scene: a hotel room with every counter or dresser draped in a layer of clothing; books, magazines, and travel magazines thrown casually on available bed space; open suitcases and electronics topping every free chair. You have to pack to leave and discover layer after layer of items that have yet to be used or have been used continually. You need to charge your laptop for the flight and have to dig through the layers like an archeologist uncovering a lost city.

By the third hotel packing becomes less a game of Tetris and more of Thanksgiving turkey: no strategy, just put things where there’s room. And then there are the items you purchased. Perhaps you bought a few psuedo-touristy items for family, the occasional fragile vase or glass item, or perhaps just a few new items you picked up for your closet that no one you know will ever be able to copy.

When I picture this scene I feel stress and anxiety. I remember the moments I have spent in that picture and think of the items that got left behind. I think of moments spent hoping my suitcase will pop over the ledge at baggage claim and the relief and surprise I felt when it did. I remember being stranded in Salt Lake City with no luggage for three days or my wife’s panicked voice as she discovered her bag had been stolen at the Philadelphia airport.

I now travel with a maximum of four changes of shirts, one change of pants, sometime a second pair of shoes, and no more than four pairs of socks and underwear. I wear one jacket or hoodie. My electronics are limited to only necessity and I pack for averages not extremes, layering if it ends up cold. I pack a rain coat, which converts a regular coat into an insulating layer. And I pack it all into a travel backpack, leaving my hands free to do whatever I need. I have yet to have an issue with airline overheads but can throw my bag under a seat if need be.

And my setup will work for business or pleasure, summer or winter with very few modifications, and for most any climate that I would normally visit. And with access to a sink and a little detergent, I could operate with this same setup for weeks at a time.

The means to this exercise is similar to its outcome: intentional living. I know what I have and know it isn’t much. I can pack my belongings in a matter of minutes. I can run between gates if the timing is close. I will be let on when roller bags are being forced to check. I know where and what I have at all times.

I started traveling this way after converting my backpacking rig to an ultralight setup. I went from a 35lb base kit to 15lb. I packed only the necessities, including emergency gear. But I didn’t overpack. I packed the requirements for life: food, water or water purification, clothing, shelter. It was as though I lost 20 solid pounds have never enjoyed backpacking more.

The reality is that we don’t actually need much to not only survive but thrive. We think of items such as clothing as being necessities, and they are, in quantities because it feels strange to limit ourselves. The what if questions pop up – what if I’m at a party, what if I need to dress nicer, what if my casual black shoes get a hole, what if the weather changes drastically… And then we throw the considered item in our suitcase.

It is almost as though we want to be prepared for everything. But in that process we can lose out on what we are doing through having to haul and manage our preparedness. The beauty of travel becomes a stressful headache in having to deal with things, hoping for bags to arrive, and managing objects.

But then I start to wonder about my daily life and the closet full of clothing I manage and maintain. I review my collection of electronic items and rack of jackets. I see how these objects clutter and fill my life and time, how they overwhelm me with the space needed to posses more and occasional guilt that comes with overbuying.

If I can spend weeks with only a midsize backpack partially filled with items, why not live this way at home?

For the next 6 months I will be minimizing my life drastically. I plan to set out 5-7 button down shirts (though this is overkill), a few t-shirts, no more than two pairs of jeans, and as many shoes. The rest will go into boxes. I plan to see what life can be without having to think each morning about my clothing options. I want to see how uncomplicated I can make this one part of my life and see if there are opportunities for simplifying further.

What could we do with our lives if we were suddenly freed from non-essential and stress inducing clutter?

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The Past is Not What it Seems; or, You Can’t Go Back Again

The mid-90′s relaunch of the The Outer Limits had some interesting moments. Among the best, if I might be so bold, was an episode that took place entirely in a one room prison cell on an alien spaceship. The two main characters were human soldiers being held captive by an otherworldly enemy, the two species deep in the throes of a very long and costly war.

At some point the beautiful female character began showing signs that she was turning into one of the aliens, a reptilian species, through some kind of genetic therapy they were forcing on her. As she and the male captive had grown close he began to feel her despair as the therapy converted more and more of her features into a monstrosity. At the brink of an emotional breakdown, and fearing the worst for humans as a species, the male captive told her of a secret human force located on a distant moon that was ready to attack, turning the tide on a war that would otherwise mean ultimate destruction. Expecting relief he was stunned when she stood up and began to casually walk to the exit, knocking for the captors to release her, which they did. He asked what she was doing, these were our enemy. He told her they were trying to change her into something she wasn’t! She replied simply that they weren’t changing her but changing her back. All along she was the enemy and the war would surely be lost.

The idea of the beautiful, comfortable thing being turned into the monster is traumatic. But what is worse is that the thing was the monster all along. What was horrible was really horrible to begin with.

There have been a few moments (or really many) in my life in which a situation changed drastically for me and the others involved. Almost without warning a calm, pleasantly simple scenario was turned on its head and became something uncomfortable and different. And what is often spoken during these times was a call  to revert back to what was once just standard operating procedure. Two significant trends in the US today point to this reality: segments within Evangelical Christianity are a push back to 5-point Calvinism (called Neocalvinism) and Tea Party candidates are continually espousing a return to what is seen as the Founding principles. In both of these movements the past is revered as containing the recipe for real success and modernity the ailment. If only we could get back to the _______ none of this would be happening.

This is a dangerous and flawed ideology. Not only is this reversion impossible to begin with and worsens the situation by allowing members to revise a past and only remember the best parts, the criteria, the scenario in which the belief or situation existed is completely different. There is no going back as even the idea of going back intentionally is wholly different than the situation in which the original idea first existed.

To look back at a “better time” is truly revisionist history at best. Only the best parts are remembered. And worse, the context is only provided for the past scenario. What ever it is we face today could end up very positively for everyone or even a mixed bag result. But its also important to consider that the good times that once were might in fact have been the thing that precipitated the problems today.

Truly, the monstrosity might have always been there.

The reality is that the scenario is always changing. Time is moving forward, people are changing, culture is on the move, and every relationship in our life is being altered continually. The goal should never be to go back but to charge on forward. Accept the inevitability of change and eradicate the fallacy that a relationship, ideology, belief, or whatever once stood still for any period of time. There is one constant in the universe and that is change. In biology we call it evolution, which is just a loaded term for the propensity of all objects to shift and change into other forms. We must, like our world, evolve to accept such an inevitability.

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The Power of Observation

My wife and I were watching an episode of The Good Wife last week. Towards the middle of this episode character Will Gardner was hand writing a list on legal paper. Certainly not unusual. But what was odd is that while he held his pen with his left hand (there seems to be a disproportionate number of lefties in the show in general – accidental or by design?), he held it like he was right handed with his thumb wrapped around his index and middle finger. Then in an aerial shot the pen was in his right hand. But the way he held the pen was the same in both shots and very natural.

It turns out that the actor in mention, Josh Charles, is in fact left handed and writes with what is known as a closed web space handwriting style, common with right handed people. So why the strange aerial shot? Noticing an actor’s dominant hand is not designed to dismiss or point out a flaw but rather to raise a curiosity. What was the purpose of two different hands holding the same pen? What purpose or problem did this fix?

I recently started reading On Looking: 11 Walks with Expert Eyes, by Alexandra Horowitz. The book chronicles a series of walks she has taken around New York City with a collection of experts from geologists to calligraphers. On each walk she experienced a world around her that she was oblivious to previously, all while filling in the reasons from a neurological basis.

It seems that experts are experts at seeing one thing. In a hyper-specialized world we can only process so much. But to experience the same situation with new eyes is to, in a way, become more awake.

Interestingly enough the first expert she brings is her toddler. His height and underdeveloped attention made for a clever companion on a simple walk around the block. Kids learn to see and hear everything before learning to tune out some parts versus hearing others.

A baby might early on learn to ignore the sound of a news anchor on the screen but will clearly hear a mother’s voice.  Ms. Horowitz’ son wasn’t looking for street signs and shop logos but saw shapes all around him. That openness to stimulus placed him fully in that moment, focused not to an internal monologue or list of to-dos, but in the center of a moment looking at every gate and piece of trash and bird that came across his path.

Where I do not think attention to everything is possible – we are blessed and cursed with a limited ability to process stimulus – I do think there is something magical about seeing what is in front of us for what it really is. Sometimes its helpful and meaningful to tune out the monologue or shut off the constant music and simply notice what is around us. Even the most well walked stretch of pavement between two points is full of what we do not yet know.

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