Ignore Your Customers on These Four Occasions

Listen to your customers.  This advice is so old and so sacrosanct that I suspect Jesus used it while managing the apostles.

“Hey team, we just received a parchment survey from a very upset customer.  Apparently, at that last Sea of Galilee event, we were not getting those baskets of fish and loaves out fast enough.  Let’s sharpen our focus, people!  Leperpalooza is just around the corner and we need to be on our game!”  

The logic behind listening to your customers is blindingly obvious, so unlike the typical business book, I am not going to spend three thousand words trying to convince you it’s a good idea.  Instead, I would like to argue that in some situations, you should not follow this advice.

Here are four scenarios in which you’re better off consulting a clairvoyant than listening to your customers:

1.  Don’t ask your customers about anything related to money

First of all, never give customers the option in a focus group or on a survey to tell you your product should be cheaper. Their answer will always be yes.

Furthermore, don’t ask them to compare the price to other facets of your product.  If you give them a list of features or benefits and ask what they value most, they will consistently pick price first.  Even hedge fund managers talking about their mink-lined underpants will claim that price is most important to them.

And in the name of all that is holy, whatever you do, don’t ask them to tell you how much you should charge for the product.  The answer they give will have no relation to what they will actually pay.

Why are customers such unreliable guides in this area?  I don’t know, but here’s my speculation:

First, we are asking customers to cooly and rationally project what they will do, when spending money is instead an emotional, visceral action.  Few customers would ever predict that they would spend $1000 on a handbag, or $500 for an Oak Ridge Boys concert ticket.  But in the real world, these things happen all the time.

Secondly, most of us spend our entire lives being price takers.  This can make us feel powerless.  Participating in a survey may feel like a chance to finally stick up one’s middle finger at the powerful price setters.   Take that you monopolistic #&@$!

If you want accurate guidance on how much you can charge for your product, there’s only one reliable way to get it.  Put your product into the market at your favored price and see if customers are willing to pay it.

2. Don’t ask your customers about their vices or virtues

Many psychological studies have demonstrated that the vast majority of us think we’re better than average, whether it’s our attractiveness to the opposite sex or our ability to safely pilot a car.  I call this LWS–Lake Wobegone Syndrome.

This is why, if you’re anything like me, you are shocked every time you look in the mirror.  “Who the hell is that guy?” my internal voice screams.  The cold, uncompromising reality of the mirror clashes violently with my Adonis-like self image.  Where did my hair go?  Where are my rippled biceps?  And for some reason I am completely surprised every time, even though I looked into that same heartless mirror one short day ago.

Perhaps there’s an evolutionary advantage to this constant self-delusion.  Maybe believing we could outrun that lion saved some of us on the Serengeti thousands of years ago, giving us the confidence necessary to shave a few tenths of a second off our two-hundred-meter sprint times.  I don’t know.

Whatever the reason, LWS is very real and will show up anytime you ask customers to predict their behavior in ways that threaten or enhance their self image.

For example, everyone wants to believe they’re being responsible stewards of this planet–even coal company executives.  Several years ago, in the early days of environmental awareness, a paper goods manufacturer asked consumers if they would buy towels made from recycled paper, even if the quality of the product was a bit reduced.   The vast majority said yes–enthusiastically.  In fact, they said they would even pay a bit more because it was the right thing to do. Far be it from them to continue pillaging our forests just so they could avoid the inconvenience of washing a rag.

Using this research, the company launched a line of paper towels manufactured from recycled paper.  The quality was a bit less and the price a few cents higher than their conventional towels.  The results?  You guessed it.  The recycled towels collected dust on store shelves.

Please don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not saying people will never buy environmentally-friendly products.  I’m just saying that more people will predict they will buy them than actually will, even in this age of Teslas and organic house paint.

So people will overestimate their virtues, but what about their vices?  Well, let me ask you this:  How accurately will people estimate the number of hours they spend watching TV each day?  Or how many calories they consume?  Or how often they let their kids eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast?

You know the answer of course.  Customers will very consistently underestimate how often they commit these sins.  To do otherwise would defile their self image.

Listening to customers too closely in these kinds of cases can cause you to overlook lucrative business opportunities.

3. Don’t ask your customers what new products or services you should create for them

First of all, this is not their job, it’s yours.  And because it’s not their job, they haven’t been thinking about it.  So when you start interrogating them in a focus group, their answer is generally going to be some form of, “I don’t know.”

But even if they were thinking about it, they would have a hard time helping you imagine products beyond mildly improved versions of what they currently use. They, like the rest of us, are trapped in their current context.

There’s an old Henry Ford quote that goes something like, “If I had asked my customers what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.”  He probably didn’t say it, like most quotes you find on the Internet, but it nicely illustrates the point.

Great leaps forward in technology (cars, mobile phones, the Internet) are obvious examples of products that could never emerge from customer conversations.  But as Clayton Christensen illustrated in his The Innovator’s Dilemma, even modestly new products or technologies can be met with skepticism by customers.  Only innovations that offer more performance on today’s axes of utility will be greeted enthusiastically (e.g. bigger televisions with sharper images; chocolate chip cookies with more chips; etc.)  Do we really need to ask customers whether or not they would prefer more of something they already like?

4. Don’t ask your customers why they do what they do

There are exceptions to this rule.  Exceptionally gifted qualitative researchers, with the right research subjects and some luck, can sometimes pull this off.

And it’s often worth trying, for if you can figure out why people do what they do, it can be powerfully useful.

But generally, people don’t know why they do what they do.  They either literally can’t articulate the reasons, or the rational part of their brain deceives them and claims credit for the things the emotional part is controlling.  Dan Kahneman refers to this as the man riding the elephant.  The man (your rational brain) thinks he’s really in control, but the elephant (your emotional brain) can actually decide to do whatever it wants to.

On the rare occasions when customers truly understand what’s going on in their head, there are often good reasons why they don’t want to be honest about it, either for the reasons cited above (vices or virtues that challenge their self image) or for the simple reason that they may find it uncomfortable to reveal it to strangers.

So go forth and listen to your customers, just as the old adage suggests.  Just do so carefully!

I Am Going to Give Away My Apple Watch

Dear Apple Designers,

I am thinking of giving my Apple Watch to Turner. Turner is my dog.

I am considering gifting the Watch to my dog because the blue band looks nice with his red coat (see picture above) and he will probably enjoy the Watch more than I do.

Before you dismiss me as an Apple-hating crank, know that your company and I have had a monogamous relationship (on my end, anyway) since about 2008. I am embarrassed to admit that my home currently contains two iMacs, one MacBook Air, two iPads, four iPhones, two Apple TVs, and an iPod carcass at the bottom of every dresser drawer.

I should love the Apple Watch, but ever since I bought my 38mm Sport model two months ago, my enthusiasm has waned faster than Scott Walker’s poll numbers.

This product, unlike nearly everything else you’ve designed in the last decade, is maddeningly complex and unintuitive.   Let me share just a few of my frustrations.

What do you mean I have to plug it in?

I know, I know, everything electronic has to be plugged in. I get it. But I’m not used to plugging in my watch. It’s been decades since I even had to wind my watch.

This means that I invariably forget to plug in the Watch. I only realize my error when the Watch dies or is about to, so I often have to take it off in the middle of the day and recharge it.

This wouldn’t be a problem for an ordinary watch, but some of the more interesting functions you’ve designed into the Watch require that I wear it continuously. Take all that health stuff, for example. Every time I go to take a quick 20K run, the Watch shows that it’s at twelve percent battery power or less, so I have to leave it behind while I’m out knocking down four-minute miles.   I then get no credit for all those steps. None at all.

Later that evening, the Watch will send me a perky message congratulating me on burning 307 calories for the day. 307 calories! Hell, I burned that many calories before breakfast!

This is very irritating. However, I am willing to admit that I am a bit of a curmudgeon, and that even I am capable of learning new habits. I intend to dedicate myself to learning to plug in the Watch every evening. But couldn’t you make it easier? Couldn’t you design an elegant pad or receptacle of some kind that would look great on my nightstand?   That little magnetized white disk you give us now is ridiculous. My electric toothbrush would be embarrassed to sit on that thing.

What do you mean I have to enter a passcode every time I put it on?

Why do you make me do this? The Watch knows that I’m me. It’s talking to my iPhone in my pocket!

If it’s not me, if somebody has managed to steal both my iPhone and my Watch, and if I haven’t figured out a way to disable the phone through your Find My iPhone app, then I’m probably dead. If that’s the case, I’m not worried about the Watch.

But maybe I’m wrong and your Apple lawyers are right. If we have to keep the Watch secure at all costs, then please allow me to do it in some way that doesn’t require that I use my fat finger to type on numbers smaller than banana seeds.

Wait, I have an idea! How about using my fingerprint? Wouldn’t that be cool? Do you think you guys could figure out a way to use some kind of whiz-bang sensor to recognize my fingerprint? I’m sure that’s impossible, the kind of tech you would only see in Flash Gordon, but maybe if you start working on it . . .

Finding and opening an app is harder than untying the Gordian Knot!

You can’t possibly expect me to find the app I’m looking for amongst that sea foam of app bubbles. And if I do find it by some miracle, I can never get the thing open easily. I sometimes forget my passcode frustrations and try hitting it with my finger, but you already know how that turns out.

So then I usually try that wheel thingy. First of all, that only works if I have somehow dragged my app victim to the center location on the screen, a task that requires a lace maker’s patience, as the Watch always wants to second-guess my efforts. And then, after I’ve finally centered the wandering app, I will inevitably spin the thingy in the wrong direction (Do I spin it up? Or is it down?), making the app disappear back into the sea foam.   Arrgghh!

When will these apps start helping me?  

I’m still waiting for an app on my watch to do something really cool.  I’m not sure what that would be, exactly, but here are a few top-of-mind thoughts:

How about a timely update on what’s going on in the world? The Dow dropped 1000 points yesterday morning and the Watch didn’t bother to tell me about it, even though I am loaded for bear with the New York Times, NPR, and BBC apps. I’m sure that getting that kind of alert is possible, and that I’m supposed to find the setting somewhere six menus deep on my iPhone that will allow such effrontery, but the Watch should already know that I use those three apps more than any other on my phone, and that I would welcome a little morsel of news once in a while.

Here’s another example. I rode my bike last weekend on a bike path in a forest reserve. Before I set out, I tried to use your workout app to understand what health benefits I would be accruing for all my hard work. After a few minutes of hitting the wrong buttons and falling into screen traps I couldn’t escape, I gave up.

But then I started to think, wait a second, there’s a computer in this Watch! Or in the iPhone it’s paired with, anyway. And a whole bunch of other cool technology too! Like GPS! So why can’t the Watch derive from my location and speed that I’m riding my bike? Why can’t it determine whether I’m riding on a gravel path or tarmac? Up a hill or down? Isn’t that information stored somewhere on the Internet? Couldn’t the Watch use those data and what it knows about my weight and fitness to automatically calculate the calories I burned? Couldn’t it send me an unexpected message at the end of the day, surprising me with that calculation?

Instead, it sends me a message saying I burned 307 calories.

I guess what I’m asking for is a watch that makes an effort to know me and proactively communicates the information I will find most relevant. I’m sure that’s hard, but is it any harder than creating the Mac in 1984? The iPhone in 2007?

What’s with the screen latency and unreliable gesture controls?

You’re not going to believe it, but the one task I’ve consistently burdened the Watch with is waking me up from my rare mid-afternoon naps. “Siri,” I say with careful enunciation and measured pace, “Please set a timer for twenty-five minutes.” And then I stretch out on the couch and nod off, comfortable in the knowledge that the Watch will wake me as requested.

Twenty-five minutes later, without fail, the Watch gently taps me on the wrist and emits a pleasingly soft sound of chiming bells. As I wade my way out of the mists of sleep, I twist my wrist over and up to my face so that I can dismiss the alarm.   The screen, normally so eager to illuminate, remains dark. I put my arm down to my waist and repeat the motion. Still dark. I try a third time. Nothing. I then sit up and flick my wrist yet again. The screen finally lights up, but just as I’m about to hit the “dismiss” button, it disappears. Desperate, I now hit the wheel thingy. The screen appears. I push the “dismiss” button. Nothing happens. I go to push the button again, but the screen goes dark once more. All the while the haptic feedback and the chiming continues, transforming now into a throbbing Chinese water torture of taps and ringing bells. How do I turn this thing off? Another wrist flip, another push of the wheel thingy, and the screen finally reappears. Ready for it this time, I move my finger to the screen in a flash. I hit the button. The chiming continues. I hit it, didn’t I? I push it again. The Watch finally succumbs.

I revel in the silence, fully awake, and completely enraged.

The Watch is far, far short of the brilliance I expect from you. It feels like a product that has been designed by committee, with little attempt to imagine how it would be used, and too much deference to reasonable expectations and compromise. You can do so much better.

Until then, the Watch will be Turner’s.

What Macklemore Can Teach Us About Corporate Innovation

The last time I had a good grip on pop culture was late in the Clinton administration, so imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon Macklemore singing Downtown on Jimmy Fallon last week.   Actually, it wasn’t just Macklemore, but a whole musical entourage including a bunch of rappers I’ve never heard of.

The performance was going quite well, but perhaps somewhat conventionally, until about two minutes into the song, when a very skinny man in tights with holes in the knees burst onto the stage, singing the refrain at a pitch that could only be described as Streisandesque.

OK, I thought, this guy (I later found out his name is Eric Nally), with his flamboyant dance moves and his 70s porn star mustache, is the new Freddie Mercury. He’s not doing anything that fresh. But then he started swinging around the long tassels attached to his blouse sleeves like taffeta windmills and I had to concede that he was on his own plane of creativity.

It wasn’t just his performance that impressed me. It was the marvelously discontinuous combination of all the elements on that stage. It was bizarre and thrilling at the same time—kind of like watching the Cubs legitimately compete for the pennant.

I was so dumbstruck that I immediately logged onto the world’s most authoritative research resource: YouTube. After a bit of digging, I found the Downtown video and confirmed that I am slightly behind the pop culture curve, as I was the 51,789,921st soul to view it. If by chance you’re not part of that exclusive club, take a look at the video here (warning: some of the lyrics are naughty):  Macklemore and Lewis: Downtown

Whether you like the video or not (I love it, by the way), the question I have for you is this: Could something like this ever emerge from a corporate development process? Could an innovation team inside a company ever generate a concept so new?

I can imagine Macklemore and Lewis pitching the concept to the team . . .

Right after the scene where Macklemore drives around on a Harley with a large stuffed moose head strapped to the front of it, we’re going to cut to Eric leading a phalanx of 300-pound rappers on mopeds. He’ll be riding in a Roman-style chariot pulled by four rider-less motorcycles. What do you think?

We all know how well that would go.

Macklemore and Lewis avoid this risk because they are independent—the only artists in the last twenty years to top the Billboard charts without the support of a major label. That independence, I suspect, is a big reason why they’re able to produce such a wonderfully creative product.  If they were running their work through corporate approval committees, their videos would probably look something like this:  One Direction: Perfect

Wasn’t that horrible? Didn’t that look like it was assembled by a team as if they were knocking together a piece of IKEA furniture?

Why do corporate decision-making processes squeeze all the life out of creativity and innovation? Is there something pathological about company structures or incentives that makes this inevitable?

Maybe. But I’m more inclined to chalk it up to human nature and how it manifests in groups of people, whether the context is business, politics, religion, or whatever.

Group decision-making processes will invariably identify and prefer ideas that appeal to the majority. Radical ideas, ideas that challenge the conventional wisdom and make people uncomfortable, will be rejected outright or diluted bit by bit until they are soggy and digestible for the middle of the bell curve.

This is perfect for the world of politics, where radical ideas can quickly lead to people swinging from lampposts. And it also works in business when the mission calls for incremental improvement, or for mobilizing the company to take on a large, uncontroversial task.

But when real innovation is required, consider setting aside anything resembling democratic principles. Breakthrough corporate innovation is almost always driven by powerful despots (e.g. Steve Jobs), mission-driven entrepreneurs (another form of despotism), or small, autonomous teams like Lockheed’s Skunk Works or IBM’s first PC team.

Here’s my personal checklist for facilitating corporate innovation:

Keep teams very small. Every additional team member (starting with the second!) significantly reduces the likelihood of developing a truly innovative idea. Teams tend to swell in size because modern management techniques place a high value on cross-functional collaboration. That’s great for many tasks, but not for innovation.

Embrace team competition. I strongly believe that three small teams competing against each other will generate more and better solutions than one large team. You would think this would be self-evident given the virtues of competition in our capitalist system, but I often find people very resistant to this idea. Perhaps it feels wasteful somehow. After all, that’s what the Russkies used to tell themselves—that having more than one factory making soap was a waste of the Motherland’s resources!

Staff the teams with kooks. Let’s face it, most people are not capable of generating radically new ideas. They just aren’t. Some consultants will claim that innovation is a process that can be learned, but I believe that’s only true in cases of incremental innovation, like tagless t-shirts or the 14th flavor of Cheerios.

It’s the kooks that come up with the big ideas. Their brains are wired differently, and they’ve spent a lifetime honing their ability to fight or ignore the persistently eroding drip-drip-drip of the majority’s skepticism.

Protect the kooks! Even though the kooks are well insulated against other peoples’ opinions, they are not immune to the political sabotage that permeates organizations. Driven by resentment, fear, or disgust, the normal people will ostracize the kooks, sometimes through soft neglect, and other times through naked aggression. A great CEO will know who her kooks are, and will make it clear to the organization that they operate under her ever-present protection.