I recently read Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely, a book about behavioral economics, and I enjoyed it very much. The examples he uses are fascinating, and he obviously likes people (despite some of the outcomes of his experiments), which is always appealing in an author. I also entertained myself trying to guess the outcome of the experiment before he revealed it.

Predictably Irrational argues against standard economic theory on the basis that pepole make choices which aren't data driven, but are down to a quirk of the psyche. I don't find that argument a stretch; he fairly convincingly demonstrates that people are not necessarily data oriented.

The big weakness of this book, to me, is that I don't agree with the title. Because he doesn't look at why people make the choices that they do, future choices which are similar but different aren't predictable. I also suspect that what we call a rational choice is a short-term logical assessment of the data we have available; but how we actually behave is much more dependent on what makes for successful choices as a species. Which means that the choices we make, while not always data driven, are not necessarily irrational.

While this book convincingly argues that standard economical models don't offer a complete view of human behavior, it provides very little insight into how to predict behavior or why exactly we apparently make irrational decisions.

Recently found the site Information is Beautiful, and was amazed at the sheer beauty of otherwise boring and depressing information.

Data points by themselves are pretty dull, and don't tell you a lot. (You sold 1,000 gadgets through your site yesterday — is that good or bad? Who knows. Depends on what you did last year, your costs, etc.)

The larger picture requires perspective, but even that's not quite enough. A set of numbers isn't convincing by itself; it's just a lot of data points instead of one.

Pulled together correctly, though, even very boring information can be made to sparkle.

The author of Information is Beautiful takes information which would be hard work to summarize and absorb, and puts it into formats which show connections and set up the mental framework for comparisons. And then conclusions (correct or incorrect) start clamoring into the mind.

A recent post was about the gender balance on social networks. Interesting from an audience perspective (who are they reaching? who's really active?), but also fascinating as the author laid over the data assumptions about dominance and worldview. (Specifically, not "female trending" but matriarchy, or equality, or patriarchy, which is a bit provocative.)

(Side note: Another wonderful, and much linked, graphical representation of data is Indeed.com's ratio of job seekers to open jobs.)

There are obvious applications of all this for marketers — how's your pricing page looking? your next slideshow in front of the board?

Data is boring; presentation can be interesting.

Awhile ago, I met some friends in Ghiradelli Square. They hadn't been out to San Francisco for awhile and so underestimated the traffic. I had time to kill. If you've ever visited the Square, you know there's not much there. I ended up reading the ads (which I'm inclined to do anyway).

One caught my eye for a Ghiradelli Sunday which featured a big image of a hot fudge sunday (which is good — it looked appetizing) accompanied with the text:

"Now, 33% more fudge!"

Ummm.... Really?

What consumer says to herself, 'Well, I wasn't going to get an ice cream but since there's 33% more fudge, I'm going to rush right out, stand in line, fight for a table and have one!'

No one needs an ice cream; people usually buy ice cream emotionally, especially in a tourist spot (i.e., 'Ice cream's not really good for me, but I'm on vacation so I feel self indulgent.')

Mixing in an analytical appeal (33% more!) kicks in the wrong part of the brain. The part of the brain that reviews choices rationally, worries about calories and what's already been eaten on the trip, analyzes the price and how much the trip is costing, and generally moves the consumer into the wrong mental state.

An emotional appeal based on 'stopping and smelling the roses' or 'enjoying an authentic San Francisco tradition' would have worked better with this audience and kept people in the right state of mind.

Timbuk2 is a San Francisco company that makes bags — from backpacks to totes — but they got their start with messenger bags for the local cyclists. And, even though they are widely popular among office goers, they've stayed slightly snarky.

I recently ordered one and this is part of the confirmation email:

We suggest that you actually read it and like it because this is what you are getting and the Lucky One's address below is where we are going to send it. If you must be That Person, we can TRY our best to make changes or cancel your order. This is only if we have had enough coffee and our warehouse hasn't. ... Once your order makes it to our production line, we can't change it for you and if it's custom, we can't take it back. Not because we don't love you; but because we already have really, really nice custom made Messenger bags from Timbuk2. It's part of the uniform.

The bag, when it showed up, had a map printed on the packaging of downtown San Francisco — a waterproof map for cyclists with bike routes:

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that a lot of their orders aren't from cyclists; they're way too commonly spotted on the shoulders of someone heading to the office.

Which is what makes their whole attitude so smart. When the transition happened, and more and more professionals started buying their bags, they could have done the obvious and decided that they too should be professional.

But that would be boring.

And people wouldn't feel like they were buying something uniquely local.

So they, eventually, wouldn't be able to charge as much (their bags are a little on the expensive side). And, in the nature of these things, their quality would probably have gone down.

Instead they stayed kinda snarky and kept references to their roots as a local company that makes bags for bike messengers.

And that helps them stay "cool," and on the shoulders of office workers.

Noticed this on the New York Times homepage and was immediately intrigued because I recognized the name, Tufte:

There are two ways that I can go with this post.

I could write about how the information is laid out to be as accessible as possible. Seems a little unnecessary, though, as Tufte is an expert on the graphical presentation of data. Anything I had to add would be like trying to ice an already iced cake.

The other way I can go with this is to write about the approach of the ad itself, and the scarcity of information.

All we know about the type of service being offered is that it's about presenting data and information, or, apparently off topic, a sculpture show. There's no targeting to a specific sub-group — would a business person or a graphical designer be more interested? Also no explanation as to why it would even be worth the time to click on the ad, much less go to a course.

So how does this ad work?

Perhaps it relies on the strength of branding around Tufte's name. He's not trying to reach everyone, he's just trying to reach people who already know about him. Tufte's got enough reach that he doesn't need to stretch any further.

Alternatively, maybe he's relying on curiosity — it's a very unusual ad. Perhaps people click on it just to see where it goes.

Or perhaps it's a very poorly thought out ad which doesn't try to motivate anyone — just provides information.

It's the ad itself which is the solution &mdash the ad is a demonstration of what he has to share. Anyone who needs to know why they should come to hear him speak only needs to look at the ad.

Which I think is quite well done.

I've been thinking about how the human mind works - and what that means for marketing - on and off for awhile now. To be honest, I'm still thinking, but I've come up with some initial ideas. If you have any thoughts, leave a comment; I'd love to hear from other people on this.

Roughly speaking, it appears to me that there are three levels to the human mind.

1) There's the rational mind that we use to actively think through problems (e.g. logic problems). This is the upper mind.

2) Beneath the upper mind is the deeper mind. These thoughts aren't something we think out rationally, rather they're the deep human impulses that control a lot of our actions. For instance, our desire to connect with other people falls into this category; we don't need to think it out, we just feel it.

3) The final mind, and I suspect most people wouldn't think of this as a mind, is the body. The brain and the body are in constant communication, and the body produces many chemicals that alter how we think. One common example is that the feeling of being in love is induced by a chemical in the blood stream (people like this one because chocolate reportedly has the same chemical). Testosterone is another good example; hormones have a huge impact on how people behave.

(I've intentionally stayed away from the terms conscious and subconscious above as I suspect these refer to different understandings of the mind.)

These levels are all so closely connected that they are not really separate; they blend into each other and require each other to function.

The sensation of being thirsty is something the body mind controls, but if you've ever been really thirsty then you know that every part of your being, all levels of your mind, focuses on getting water.

The desire to connect with other people, e.g. to fall in love, is controlled by the deep mind. The upper mind will think up rational reasons why love is a good idea (sometimes even inventing virtues in the other person that don't exist), and the body mind gets in on the act by responding to pheromones and circulating chemicals to induce euphoric feelings. (Apologies, by the way, if I've just destroyed your romantic illusions.)

So what, you may reasonably be asking at this point, does all this have to do with marketing?

The connection is that it's worth being aware of the level of mind you're trying to appeal to.

To carry on the example from above of the very thirsty individual: There's not much point in appealing to a sense of community in order to market water if the person you're selling to is desperately thirsty; they simply do not care and it's a waste of time and effort.

On the flip side, if you're trying to promote a community, then appealing to deeper motivations is likely to be more effective then offering them a free bottle of water.

Tailoring the message to the underlying motivations is more effective and more targeted.

P.S. Thanks to A. for talking out all of this with me.

People for whom the power of the internet didn't click in time: Once word gets out about what customers have to go through to quit, who would ever sign up?

The original post can be found here.

One of the things marketers really excel at is testing - we A/B test and multivariate test and the most sophisticated of us test with the Taguchi method.

Then we measure, and we look at our results, and say "Ah-ha! This won. It must be the best choice."

And this is all well and good, but there's something missing.

Many marketers don't ask why the other splits didn't work.

You may argue that there's no point; it didn't work and therefore it's irrelevant. That information cannot be usefully applied except as something to be avoided in the future. This attitude misses the whole point of testing.

Testing should tell us more about the audience we're trying to reach, not just about what gives us the best numbers. If we look at what didn't work as well as what did, we can make much better judgments about what will work in the future. It's the difference between adding up numbers and understanding what they mean.

Last week, I finished reading The No Asshole Rule by Robert Sutton. The premise is that companies that actively foster a positive environment (and diligently get rid of jerks) are more successful and their employees are happier. A win-win situation.

I enjoyed reading this book; it's full of examples of appalling behavior that make for entertaining, if disturbing, reading, as well as being persuasive for a more civilized workplace.

Sutton defines assholes as anyone who makes other people feel humiliated or belittled and who aim their venom at others who are less powerful.

The author does a good job of reviewing why people are assholes and the reasons that they thrive. In case you find yourself in a situation like this, toward the end of the book, there is a chapter on how to survive an unpleasant work environment that has some practical tips.

Sutton also included a final chapter on assholes that are successful, which makes for a more nuanced look at jerks than appears elsewhere in the book.

I suspect this is one of those books that hits a nerve with people who already think a civilized workplace is important, but would be largely ignored by people who see co-workers as competition and not really as people.

The biggest use for this book for most people would be to bolster arguments for why a really unpleasant, though highly qualified, person shouldn't be hired.

The New York Times has published a piece about how it's very difficult for users to remove themselves from Facebook: How Sticky Is Membership on Facebook? Just Try Breaking Free

Combined with the privacy issues that surfaced earlier with the Beacon system, it suggests the dark, or at least very careless, side of community building at Facebook.

One of the dangers of marketing is that it's easy to forget that the numbers we use and the individuals we market to are not separate entities. Once we start treating our customers as data pools, we risk losing their trust and our credibility.