Around this time of year, during the ‘get-acquainted’ portion of focus groups, research respondents seem to want to talk about the holidays.  I wish I could say that they speak in glowing, excited terms, but I’d be lying.  Mainly, they talk about angst.

This is unsurprising—it’s a stressful time of year.  Professional workloads increase in order to get things done before year-end, preparing for the holidays and family travel can present significant logistical challenges, this is a time of year when money can be particularly tight, and the colder, shorter days in northerly climes can get people down.

But I think there’s another reason: I think we create unreasonable expectations for ourselves.  People feel intense pressure to be perfect around the holidays, and often feel judged (and found wanting) by others.

Here are some actual, verbatim quotes from holiday-time research participants I’ve recorded in recent years:

“This is the time of year I feel I have to be all things to all people.”

“I really feel like I have to provide my family with a perfect Christmas.  Whatever it takes to do that, I’m going to do.” 

 “My family expects that I’ll do everything exactly the way my mother did—may she rest in peace.  If they think I’ve cut any corners, I’m going to hear about it.” 

 “The worst thing is that the stress itself breeds more stress.  I worry that my looking all stressed out will upset my kids.”

I’ll bet you can see yourself in some of those remarks.  That being the case, around this time of year, I’ve gotten in the habit of invoking what I call The Dirty Harry Principle, articulated here by the great man himself:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VrFV5r8cs0

What Detective Callahan is trying to say is that we should ease up on ourselves (to be honest, that’s actually not at all what he’s saying here—you’ll have to watch the movie if you want to know what he’s really talking about.  But never mind that.)

There are two principles to which we hold dear that seem to underlie this holiday anxiety:

• Perfectionism—I’ve noticed that even the most loosey-goosey people can turn into raging obsessives this time of year.  Somebody who’s happy to make cookies from store brand frozen dough at any other time will feel compelled to make them from scratch, using organic, artisanal, non-GMO ingredients come December.

• Self-reliance—there’s a lot to be said for a DIY mentality.  There are situations in which the best person to do something really is you.  However, sometimes we cross the line from principle to fetish.  It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that you must do everything yourself (and suffer in the process), and that not doing so is evidence of some sort of character flaw.

My philosophy—give yourself a break and don’t hold yourself too closely to those two principles this time of year.  Know your limitations, and be willing to make some compromises or get some help.  And, give your family and friends a break as well.  Make sure they know that you love them no matter what, and that you’re not going to judge them if they don’t hand-knit you a scarf this year, and instead buy it online.

Knowing your limitations is also worthwhile in your professional life.  While high standards are essential to success, there’s a line beyond which they can cause dysfunction.  And while there are certain tasks that professional imperatives require we do ourselves, everything else is fair game for outsourcing.  Remember—the less time you spend doing things you don’t like (and probably aren’t good at), the more time you spend doing the things you enjoy and do well.  And that’s a pretty good recipe for success.

Something I’m seeing a lot lately in the research I conduct is the blurring of the line between the ideas of pleasure and happiness.

I was recently leading a focus group discussion on – well, let’s just call them ‘less healthy foods’—and several participants, when talking about why they eat foods they know they shouldn’t, said something to the effect of, ‘hey, it makes me happy.’  When asked what they thought that implied, they generally indicated that they felt that anything that makes one happy can’t be bad, as happiness is seen as being itself a healthy thing.  If we were elementary school math students, we would now invoke the transitive property:

Unhealthy food = happiness

Happiness = healthy

Therefore, unhealthy food = healthy food

And that, friends, is how we rationalize self-destructive behavior.  So, what’s the problem with this logic?  The problem is that every time these people used the word ‘happiness,’ they actually should have said ‘pleasure.’  People often use these terms interchangeably in colloquial conversation, but it’s important to understand that pleasure and happiness are not the same thing.

I’m far from the first person to notice the mashing up of these two concepts.  Dr. Robert Lustig has written an entire book on this, The Hacking of the American Mind.  In it, he enumerates the differences between pleasure and happiness:

1. Pleasure is a short-term phenomenon, happiness is long-term;

2. Pleasure is physical, happiness is emotional;

3. Pleasure is derived from taking, happiness from giving;

4. Pleasure can be achieved with tangible things, happiness cannot;

5. Pleasure is experienced alone, happiness is experienced in social interactions;

6. Extremes of pleasure can lead to addiction, while there is no such thing as being addicted to happiness;

7. Pleasure is associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, while happiness is associated with serotonin.

These last two points are particularly important, as excess dopamine can foster addiction, which, obviously, can compromise future happiness.  Furthermore, dopamine downregulates serotonin, meaning that it actually, physically reduces happiness.  As Lustig puts it, “the more pleasure we seek, the more unhappy we get.” 

So why is this important?  Because, while there’s nothing marketers and researchers can do if consumers and research participants confuse pleasure and happiness, we as professionals need to keep them straight.

Pleasure and happiness are both potential brand benefits and behavior motivators.  But pleasure is a lower order benefit – one primarily associated with physical needs, while happiness is a higher order benefit – one associated with affiliation, esteem and self-actualization.  And this has clear implications for marketers.  Pleasure may induce trial and maybe even repeat purchase, but it will never engender the sort of emotional relationship – the bond – that drives true brand connection and loyalty.  If consumers find a product that produces either a greater physiological response, or a similar one at a better price, they’re going to switch if there’s nothing else binding them to the brand.

On the other hand, brands that also provide non-functional benefits that truly drive happiness tend to be stickier.  Think of Toms, the shoe brand.  For every pair of shoes they sell to paying customers, they donate a pair to one who cannot.  To date, they have given away over 60 million pairs of shoes.  The shoes might give a consumer pleasure (my wife says they’re very comfortable), but the company’s charitable activities provide genuine happiness.  Happiness is also more likely to enable a brand to command a premium price, despite offering items that, on a purely functional basis, might not really justify that premium.  Why do you think Apple products sell for so much more than comparable competitive offerings?  I’m one of those insufferably smug Apple people myself, and I know exactly why: Apple is more than just hardware, it’s a tribe.  It provides its customers with an identity and a set of values.

This being the case, while conducting research, it is important to understand, when assessing benefits, what participants specifically mean when taking about pleasure and happiness.  Qualitative approaches are particularly effective at exploring this issue.  Because these terms tend to get used interchangeably, this requires the researcher to ask questions or conduct exercises that will allow participants to be specific.  This is not a complicated task.  For instance, if somebody uses the word happiness when describing a product usage experience, simply ask for clarification: when you say ‘happiness,’ what exactly is it that’s making you happy?  Picture sort exercises can also be also useful: please select one from this set of images that tells something about how using this product makes you feel.

Developing a clear understanding of the exact nature of the benefits provided by a brand – and whether those benefits bring mere pleasure, or if they truly ladder up to happiness – will allow marketers to build strong, lasting bonds with consumers and create effective communication and retail tactics.

What’s the difference between buying breakfast cereal and shopping for a TV?  Back in the day, an economist would have said there’s no difference; individuals always make rational decisions based upon preexisting preferences.  But that’s crazy—of course there’s a difference.  People purchasing cereal are usually making a regular, frequent purchase.  They know what they want (whole grain, no added sugar, no store brand, etc.), and their selections are informed by those preferences.  Buying a TV is a different kettle of fish.  The typical TV buyer hasn’t bought one in about four years.  In that time the category will have changed dramatically—new technologies, new features, new usage occasions, etc.  So TV shoppers generally feel confused and overwhelmed—they really don’t know what they’re looking for, or even what’s important to them.  As a qualitative researcher, I’ve noticed that this creates a much more complicated—messy, even—decision-making process.  Researchers and marketers must take these factors into accounts when conducting research and creating marketing strategies.

In essence these two processes are driven by what I call preference constructivity.  (To be honest, I’m not sure ‘constructivity’ is actually a word, but I use it anyway.)  The idea is that there are two types of decision-making processes: one in which the person making the decision has established, well-defined preferences, and one in which no such preferences exist to guide a decision.  The second one is called a constructive choice, because the individual has to construct his or her preferences while trying to also make a decision, while the first one is (obviously) called a nonconstructive choice.  Clearly, constructive choices are much more difficult and complicated than nonconstructive ones.

And, out of this comes one of my favorite analytical tools: constructive and nonconstructive mindsets.  Whenever I’m conducting research into consumer decision-making, one factor I’m always sure to probe is whether the research participants have well-defined preferences that can facilitate the process.  Sometimes this question is easily asked … “what’s important to you here?”  “What are the specific features and characteristics you’re looking for?”, but it can be tricky, as people aren’t always willing to admit their ignorance (think of a 20-year-old man in a car showroom).  So, I often find that I have to determine the existence of preferences through observation rather than through conversation.  That’s why I consider it a good practice to build into most research studies that seek to understand things like decision-making and the path to purchase methodological tools that allow us to observe shopping behavior.  This can be done via ethnographic approaches (immersing yourself in a shopping environment and watching how people shop), by conducting shop along research in which participants have an opportunity to shop on their own, and with usability labs that allow the researcher to observe and record online shopping behavior.

Determining the shopper’s mindset is crucial to understanding their behavior and to developing strategies and tactics that will be effective.  For instance, if shoppers are in a nonconstructive mindset, and know exactly what they’re looking for, it makes sense for the purchase process to be as linear and simple as possible.  But when shoppers are struggling to understand their options and are trying to figure out what their preferences are, resources that can easily inform them of key product features and capabilities and the benefits that accrue from them may be essential to converting a shopper to a purchaser.

I often find myself thinking about my father this time of year.  The anniversary of his death is this Friday.  I learned a lot of things from my dad, including the importance of getting every last crumb off of a muffin wrapper, the difference between and rate variance and volume variance and the proper use of a wood chisel.  But the most important thing I learned from him is generosity.  For me, that was his defining virtue.  Dad was generous with his time, his wisdom and expertise, his affections and his money.  He truly believed in the idea of tikkun olam—repairing the world—and devoted himself tirelessly to many causes.  He always had time for us.  And if he was sometimes a little too forthcoming with assistance, that’s something I find it easy to forgive.  The result of this, of course, was that all of us who were close to him relied on Dad very heavily.  I know I did.  But I don’t think he would have had it any other way.  Because, more than just the family patriarch, Dad viewed himself as a caretaker.  He saw taking care of others as not just an obligation, but as a privilege, and a source of great fulfillment.  I’ve tried hard to follow this example—I haven’t always succeeded, but I’ve given it my best shot.

People devote a great deal of thought, angst, hand-wringing and naval-gazing to the question of the meaning of life, to the point that libraries are filled with the books on the subject.  But what I learned from my dad’s example was that this isn’t a complicated question at all.  There is ample purpose to be found in devoting yourself to others.  So, stop worrying about yourself, and start thinking about your fellow humans.  You can live a small life that’s all about you, or a big life that’s about others.

In addition to striving for generosity in my personal relationships, I’ve also tried to apply this principle to my professional life.  Treating colleagues and partners generously is usually good business, and it’s a better way to live.  It feels good to share your knowledge, experience, contacts and opportunities.  Keeping all that to yourself won’t do much for your reputation, and it’s also a crummy way to behave.

Furthermore, as a qualitative researcher, I’ve found generosity to be an important ingredient for success.  One term of art we quallies use frequently is UPR—unconditional positive regard.  This principle is closely associated with the thoroughly-fabulous-in-all-respects Naomi Henderson, one of the true pioneers of our profession.  The idea behind UPR is that you should assume the best of the people who are participating in your research.  They are being generous with their time and thoughts, and you should repay this generosity in kind.  Generosity also applies to how I manage conversations during interviews and focus groups.  Trust and respect are important ingredients to great conversations.  In addition, keeping research participants focused and on a short leash might be time efficient, but it won’t foster an environment of honesty and respect, and it won’t allow space for the unexpected to come up.  To do that, it’s important to give people the opportunity ramble a bit, go off on tangents, ask questions and share stories about their cats.

Lest you think that this is all just wooly-headed, feelgood nonsense, it’s important to remember that generosity has been observed in nearly all complex animal species and carries significant evolutionary advantages.  It’s not simply kill-or-be-killed out there.  While that type of behavior may exist between species, within species organisms tend to cooperate far more than they compete.  As psychologists Vladas Griskevicius and Douglas Kenrick have pointed out, all behavior is driven by seven underlying evolutionary imperatives:

• Evading physical harm

• Avoiding disease

• Making friends

• Attaining status

• Finding a mate

• Keeping a mate

• Caring for family

With the possible exception of the first two, it’s pretty clear that giving of yourself—altruism— plays a crucial role in achieving these goals.  I’ve found evolutionary psychology and the role ancestral motives play in modern behavior to be essential to understanding consumer perceptions and decision-making.  Perhaps I’ll write a future blog post on this topic—stay tuned.

So, go ahead—be generous.  It’ll make you feel good and it will serve you well personally and professionally.  And anyway, it’s baked into your genes, so resistance is futile.

If you know me, you’ve probably noticed that I love analytical models.  During my career I’ve made a point of collecting these tools and applying them to the work I do for my clients.  I find these tools to be invaluable and rely upon them heavily – they make me a better researcher.  By drawing upon the thinking of very smart people, we can make ourselves that much smarter.  However, I’ve also learned to be judicious in how I use these tools.  As the statistician George Box famously observed, “All models are wrong, but some are useful.” The reason Box called them ‘wrong,’ is that models are – by their fundamental nature – oversimplifications.  And, while over-generalization can be powerful analytical technique, we must use it cautiously, and with full awareness of its limitations and risks.

I love a pretty diagram with colored boxes and circles and arrows as much as the next guy, but I regularly remind myself that such a diagram represents a simplistic version of reality, not reality itself.  The human world is a lot messier.  Take, for example, Jonathan Haidt’s Moral Foundations Theory model, depicted at the top of this article.

This is an indispensable tool that I use frequently—it’s great for helping us think about the role morality plays in forming perceptions and driving behaviors.  However, morality in the real world is a bewilderingly complex tangle of psychological motivators, evolved traits, cultural norms and social dynamics.  While Haidt’s model is valuable, we should never make the mistake of thinking morality can be reduced to six little colored circles.

Here’s a common tool marketers use: the consumer decision tree – also often called the purchase decision hierarchy.  This type of representation is essential for understanding consumer decision-making and buying behavior. A lot of shopper insights work I do is designed around this technique.  However, consumer decision-making is a not a neat process at all.  It’s not really a decision tree, it’s more like decision soup, and all we can realistically hope to do is identify commonalities and tendencies.  This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t engage in the exercise of creating the tree; we just have to be mindful of its limitations.

Another example: consumer segments.  When we do segmentation studies, once a segmentation solution has been identified, we often like to give the individual segments interesting names and even write up personifications.  This is a worthwhile exercise, but it’s valuable when looking at the results of a segmentation study to examine the underlying data for yourself, rather than just relying upon the segment names and descriptions.  You’ll probably see pretty quickly that the true picture is much more complicated, contradictory and nuanced.

The bottom line –  sometimes we work too hard to understand. We want our explanations to be too pat, and way too all-encompassing.  Be suspicious of descriptions that are extremely simple.  Instead, revel in the messiness.  Put another way, don’t let an analytical model become a surrogate for thought.  Models facilitate and organize our thinking, but they’re no substitute for careful analysis.

And remember what H.L. Mencken once wrote: “there is always a well-known solution to every human problem — neat, plausible, and wrong.”