In the past few years it’s been particularly fashionable for advertising account planners, brand managers, and research managers to talk a lot about the consumer’s ‘journey’ through any given category. This word sounds flexible and suggests that people move through categories of products and services, and actually experience those categories; it leaves room for interactions that surpass mere transaction.
But when they try to define these ‘journeys’ they tend to want the pathway to be linear, unidirectional, and for there to be clear cause and effect.
This entry on The Levy flight the other day on Seth Godin’s blog notes a different interpretation of the ‘journey’ that allows for serendipity, discovery, and frankly, boredom, even unpredictability or randomness.
And that’s right – people believe that they have ‘reasons’ for doing all kinds of things. They believe they have a process, that they know what the trade-offs in a decision are, that they are good at weighting and evaluating those trade-offs and that they make – if not purely rational or ‘optimal’ – at least ‘good’ decisions.
I’ve done a lot of looking at the so-called ‘consumer journey’ or ‘path to purchase’ across a variety of categories. Some are high-cost, utility-driven, or involve multiple parties; some decisions involve relatively smaller costs but with higher personal stakes; some decisions involve two people poorly communicating their desires or criteria (if they even know what they are); and some are simply fickle.
For example, Oprah tells people to ‘shop the perimeter!’ - and because people believe in and admire Oprah, they want to do as she suggests. Besides, it sounds so sensible and easy – just walk the outside edges of the grocery store and you’ll get fresh foods: vegetables, fruit, dairy, whole grains, fresh meats. But what I’ve found in talking to and observing grocery shoppers is that while they believe they shop the perimeter – and many start out circumnavigating the store – they also go up and down the interior aisles.
When you ask grocery shoppers how they approach going to the store, they tell you they make a list. The list is stuff they ‘need’. They believe that they have a standard list and know what is on it, just off the top of their heads. But watch someone put their ‘list’ together. They need stimulus to jog their memories about what they ‘need’ – and what they ‘need’ might mean what they’re out of, what their kids want, ingredients for a special dish, what’s on sale, what they have coupons for, and so on.
Once they get into the store, shopping the perimeter for staples and fresh food feels virtuous and smart. But it’s not always very fun. So they wander the aisles – sometimes methodically, up and down each aisle, or by categories, or based on something they see at an end-cap. They toss things in the cart that are not on their lists. Why do these things make it into the cart? Their kids put it there, and they didn’t notice or didn’t want to argue about it. They saw something new that was cheap enough or cool enough or delicious looking enough to try. They were bored of their old brand and decided to switch it up. They couldn’t find their old brand and got the next brand over. They tasted a sample. The room for discovery, for serendipity, for accidents is something that grocery shoppers – and frankly all of us – like to preserve.
Even when we’re reading labels, we’re not reading every detail – we’re skimming for our hot buttons. If your husband has high cholesterol, you look for low cholesterol numbers. If you have high blood pressure, you look for low sodium. If your daughter is starting to plump up, you go for lower sugar or calories. If you believe in the evils of corn syrup, you reject products with that ingredient. But you have no idea what dextromethorphan is, so you ignore it.
We make little decisions, micro-choices, because it’s the best we can do without feelin overwhelmed, disheartened, or just bored.
We get bored, or we begin to feel we are stuck in a rut, or the weather changes, or we set a new goal, or we notice something pretty. We move away from this spot to that spot and check things out over there.
For example, I recently purchased a few packs of the Colgate Wisp.
Why’d I get them? They were new. They were nicely designed and the packaging was useful and minimal. They fit in my purse. I’d recently started seeing someone and so this way I could freshen up before drinks with him; and I could have a toothbrush without having a toothbrush for the mornings. And they were there. I got a few packs and use them every so often. I’ll probably keep buying them – unless something newer or cuter or better designed comes along. Even if/when the guy disappears, they’ll still be useful.
One purchase that people often think has a fair amount of product or brand loyalty is … feminine hygiene products. When you find a tampon or pad you like, you stay with it, right? Not when somebody else puts theirs in a prettier box. Moxie feminine care products come in adorable little boxes – pink & black and with a bow on them. The tampons and liners come with a little pink tin that fits in your bag.
I bought them – once. The boxes are great, the tins are cute. The pads and tampons themselves… eh. But they got me for one or two cycles, instead of Tampax or Kotex or Always – just because they were new, cheeky, designed, and threw off cues that were not solely about hygiene. They weren’t so damned sanitary. They were fun.
So what’s that mean for clients and brands? Maybe it means it’s time to stop trying to aggregate and average a linear journey, forcing a consumer through a process that they don’t want to use and can’t be relied upon to follow. Maybe it’s time to create opportunities for discovery by doing something worth discovering – by doing something new, by turning a category trope on its head, by being somewhere unexpected. ”Lifting yourself from the swamp of sameness” isn’t about being a brighter color of green in the swamp – it’s about lifting out of the swamp altogether.