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.