Blog Assignment 03: Hidden Potential

A few weeks ago during a bi-monthly Walmart stockpile, I was walking down the cereal aisle trying to commit to the one flavor of cereal I would be seeing exclusively for the next two months.  You see, I live alone and cereal boxes are, for lack of a better descriptor, huge.  In the last decade or so, cereal boxes have exploded in size in an attempt to feed the increasingly hungry average American family.

My process is a bit obsessive: I first do a quick walk-through of the aisle, my eyes grazing over the selection in the hopes that something will jump out and my subconscious will make the difficult decision for me.  Usually, this fails and I have to walk down the aisle once more and actually devote thought to my selection.  This last time, however, was different.  As I looked high up on the very top of the shelf (the point at which, if you are as short as I am, the fluorescent lights almost blind you like so many artificial suns) two newcomers to the cereal aisle caught my eye.

The first was this:

Malt-O-Meal, the company known – or rather, unknown – for producing cheap facsimiles of popular cereals (example: Honey Nut Cheerios become Honey Nut Scooters) and selling them in large, dog-food sized resealable plastic bags, had decided to start selling their knock-offs in boxes.  What struck me is that they explicitly stated the purpose of their new packaging to the consumer on the back of the box (shown above). 

“Malt-O-Meal brand cereal (the cereal in the bag) is hiding out inside this small box.

Maybe now, box cereal lovers might finally give Malt-O-Meal a try.”

While the wisdom of telling your consumers your marketing strategy outright can be debated, the underlying customer insight is spot on.  That box went straight into my cart for three reasons.  First, it was by far cheaper than buying Honey Nut Cheerios.  Secondly, the box was only six ounces rather than the traditional 12-ounce behemoth. 

Lastly, and more importantly, is that Malt-O-Meal is banking on how packaging affects consumers’ perceptions of quality.  From personal opinion, I would never buy a cereal that is sold in a bag for my own personal consumption.  (Which completely flies in the face of logic since all cereals are kept in a bag and the box is simply for show.)  The moment Malt-O-Meal decided to package their cereals in boxes rather than bags they were making a bet that it would active consumers’ preconditioned notions of cereal quality.  After all, the quality of ingredients remains the same; it is merely the package that is being transformed and that seems to be enough to increase trial and (inevitably) sales. 

I am very interested in how companies can use consumer insights to enact positive changes in the marketplace; of particular interest to me are the purchases made in the supermarket since they are those most often made on the part of the consumer.  A shift in packaging seems like such a simple change.  But the more I thought about it the more I began to ask myself what other hidden potential lies in the packaging of consumer goods and how can these changes impact the market?  How can companies that rank lower on consumers’ perceptions of quality use packaging as an advantage?  And more importantly, what opportunities lie for companies to positively change the way we consume without sacrificing their net sales?  

Which brings me second item I found in the cereal aisle that day:

Cap’N Crunch, a company with a much more salient brand name than Malt-O-Meal, is following suit with their packaging but for a different reason entirely.  Consumer perceptions of Cap’N Crunch’s quality are already fairly established but by marketing smaller boxes and selling them at a lower price point, they are capturing consumers (such as myself) who do not feel the need to buy traditionally larger boxes of cereal.  This specific box, for example, only contains 5.5 ounces of cereal and retails for exactly $1.00. 

The hidden potential of packaging is not limited just to cereals.  Other examples of this strategy easily available at the supermarket include:

·       Single-serve sized bags of Orville Redenbacher microwaveable popcorn

·       Half-cans of Coca-Cola sold in four-packs

·       Green Giant Just for One 40 calorie servings of frozen vegetables

·       Häagen-Dazs single serve ice cream cups

What caught my attention more about this box is what it claims at the top: 6 servings.  What immediately popped into my mind is how, by selling products in smaller packages, companies can impact the amount of food consumers are eating and wasting.  A great amount of research has been conducted that indicates that people use external cues to determine how much food to consume.  Brian Wansink’s book Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think explores this topic and outlines his famous soup bowl experiment (“Bottomless Bowls: Why Visual Cues of Portion Size May Influence Intake,” Obesity Research 13:1 (January 2005): 93-100).  In the experiment the control group was ladled bowls of soup by a waiter while the experimental group ate from a bowl that (unknown to them) refilled itself through a hose mechanism under the table.  Those who could estimate how much they ate from external cues (the ladled bowls) ate an average of eight ounces of soup; however, this that could not estimate (refilling bowls) ate twice as much – an average of 16 ounces of soup. 

It therefore stands to reason that perhaps by buying food in smaller packages consumers can be influenced to eat less based on contextual cues of how much is available for their consumption.  This would ideally lead to healthier diets, less food waste, and an increase in welfare (money saved at the supermarket). 

However, smaller packaging is not without its faults.  The practice of smaller packaging has traditionally fallen into two camps of reasoning.  The first, as discussed above, is that companies see a need to package their products in smaller sizes to appeal to single-person households (whether for dietary purposes or for practicality of quantity). 

The second, more common, reason is to control for the rising costs of ingredients.  Rather than increase prices outright, some companies chose to decrease the amount sold per unit to reflect rising costs, a practice referred to as a weight-out strategy.  (This strategy, however, is not the same as a company purposely designing a new, smaller package for its product and introducing it as such, an important distinction to make when launching new products.)  While the average consumer rarely notices these changes on their own, they are quick to protest when they are reported on by the media.  An article from the Huffington Post (“Smaller Packaging Equals Hidden Eco Costs,” Huffington Post (June 17, 2008)) explains that smaller packaging invariably passes price increases along to the consumer by forcing them to pay the same amount for less product.  Furthermore, smaller packaging means more inventory, which means more packaging, which comes with hidden eco-costs. 

If done correctly, the hidden potential of packaging can enact real, positive change in the supermarket.  Companies, not just in packaged foods but also in beauty products and household goods, may begin to rethink their product lines in terms of size rather than just flavors.  My paper will focus on exploring these opportunities and developing a set of best practices for companies willing to develop smaller packaging.  Topics covered in my paper will include:

·       How packaging affects consumer perceptions of product quality

·       How the economics of smaller packaging can benefit both the company and the consumer

·       How companies can offset the eco-costs of smaller packaging

·       How smaller packaging can have dietary benefits to consumers 

Blog Assignment 02: Customer Experiences

I’ve known Andrew for twelve years.  He has been an unequaled best friend, confidante, and – sometimes – partner in petty misdemeanors.  He’s someone who is an exception to the revolving door of people in my life.  I know will always be there for me and, on the fourth of September last year, he turned twenty-four. 

During the summer, while he was away interning in Dakar, he sublet the cozy room of his Boston duplex to a woman who turned out to be as considerate as a prison guard and as destructive as a category three hurricane.  She ripped his prized maps, cracked his printer screen, and dented his brand-new furniture.  But worst of all, she neglected to water his bamboo after agreeing to do so. 

Now, to understand the severity of this transgression you need to know that Andrew is a no-frills, utilitarian kind of guy.  Every object in his room has a function and a purpose – a reason for being there.  You would never gift him stuffed animals or snow globes.  As if mourning a loved one, the loss of the single decorative element in his room sent him straight through the Five Stages of Grief.  He was uncharacteristically dejected as he sighed into the phone, “You know, Natalie, this is why I can’t have nice things.” 

I listened, feigning disinterest, as I made my plan to have a lovely new bamboo arrangement sent to him on his upcoming birthday.  I had worked with Teleflora before and knew they took great pride in their Find-A-Florist business model whereby they call local florists to take care of deliveries, ensuring that the flowers arrive fresh and on time.  I got on their website and selected a masculine, yet elegant, arrangement of four tall bamboo stalks nestled in a bed of soft vibrant peat moss and adorned with smooth, polished black rocks, all planted in a shallow pewter dish.  It was beautiful.  It was dignified.  It was the kind of gift that lets someone know how much they mean to you. 

I have received flowers before and I still maintain that the flower delivery business is not about the flowers themselves.  I don’t care if it’s twelve long-stem roses in a Swarovski vase or a fistful of wild daisies tied with twine.  What you are really paying for when you order flower delivery is the joy of surprising your loved one, the chance to brighten their day with the unexpected.  No one really calls ahead to let the recipient know that, “Hey, uh, on Tuesday sometime between 2:00-4:00 a florist is going to stop by your duplex and deliver your birthday present.”  No one.  …Right?

The bamboo was promised to be delivered by the third.  September 4^th rolls around and I call Andrew to wish him a happy birthday and ask him how his day had been.  As the conversation closed, he still hadn’t mentioned that he received the gift.  Odd, I thought, given Teleflora’s commitment to punctual delivery but I decided to give them another day. 

September 5^th: Not a word from both Andrew (who is likely nursing an André-induced hangover) or from Teleflora.  

September 6^th: Labor Day so no deliveries by Teleflora.  Interestingly, Teleflora seems to apply this liberty to other days of the week at their discretion. 

September 7^th: The local Boston florist calls me personally to explain that they have not been able to deliver because no one is at the residence.  I explain that that cannot be possible.  “I know the recipient has been home all day.”  Still, they promise to try again the next day.

[Note: at this point I am getting a bit upset that Teleflora has abandoned their role as the middle-man.  The local florist is supposed to coordinate with Teleflora, not with me.  If I wanted to deal with the local florist I would have just ordered directly from them, and bypassed Teleflora entirely.]

September 8^th: Andrew calls me early in the afternoon to ask me about a phone call he had received saying that some flower company wanted to know when he would be home and that they had mentioned I had something to do with it.  At this point, the surprise is dead and I admit to him that I had ordered him a birthday gift and that they will finally be bringing it to his home that day.  He agrees to reorganize his schedule to wait for the delivery. 

Two days after Andrew finally received the gift, the local florist called me again to see when they could come deliver.  The ridiculousness of this phone call just blew me away.  How can they not know that the arrangement had already been delivered?  It seemed almost comical to me, like an amateur Abbott and Costello routine:

“It’s already been delivered.”

“Who delivered it?”

“I don’t know who.”

“Well, I don’t know who either so how do you know it was delivered?”

And then I received the same phone call from the Teleflora representative.  After explaining to her that the delivery had already been made (which made me wonder who keeps track of the deliveries then), I told her, calmly, that I was really dissatisfied with the service and that I felt Teleflora was at fault.  To be clear: I’m not the kind of consumer terrorist who flies into a rage in an attempt to score free stuff whenever something goes wrong.  But, damn it, I paid good money for what I had been made to believe was a premium service.  I wanted them to apologize at least and refund the substantial service fee. 

“Yes, that was quite a little mix-up we had.”  And then she laughed.  She.  Laughed.

“I don’t think your ineptitude is funny.”  Silence. 

And then, “Well, I can give you a 10% discount off of your next order with us.”

“I can assure you, ma’am, that there won’t be a next order.”

Although my experience with Teleflora is obviously a negative one, the importance of Strategic Experiential Models (SEMs) still applies.

Sense marketing appeals to the senses with the objective of creating sensory experiences through sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell.  Flowers are naturally a sensory experience.  They’re beautiful to look at on their own and much more so when they are tastefully arranged.  Teleflora’s website presents them on a clean white background with a powerful zoom option.  Looking at the bamboo, I could imagine running my fingers lightly over the soft moss and then picking one of the smooth, cool stones and rolling it back and forth in the palm of my hands.  The arrangement was visually arresting as well, the tall, sharp lines of the bamboo contrasting with the delicate curvature of the vase.  The prospect of buying the product excited me and I wasn’t even going to be the one to experience it post-purchase.   

Feel marketing appeals to consumers’ inner feelings and emotions, with the objective of creating affective experiences that range from mildly positive… to strong emotions of joy and pride.  Giving a gift makes us feel good.  Surprising someone with something you know is missing from their life is even better.  Teleflora was supposed to be my partner in the surprise.  They were supposed to help me create that moment of happiness and accomplishment.  To put it simply: “Your bamboo died and for your birthday I wanted to surprise you and make you happy so got you a new one and Teleflora helped me make it happen.”  Instead Teleflora compromised my surprise.  They ruined it and, worse, they didn’t even seem to care.  Teleflora is that friend you don’t tell about the surprise party because you know she can’t keep a secret. 

Think marketing appeals to the intellect with the objective of creating cognitive, problem-solving experiences that engage customers creatively.  The purpose of my purchase from Teleflora was to solve the problem of Andrew’s withered bamboo as well as to celebrate his birthday.  The gift would have “killed two birds with one stone” by fulfilling both needs for me.  However, what would have been a problem-solving situation became a problem in itself.  It was as if Teleflora created these miscommunications and left me to deal with all three parties: Teleflora, the local florist, and Andrew.  Furthermore, Teleflora’s lack of control over the situation and their inability to keep track of deliveries leads me to believe that the are likely to create more problems than to solve them.

Act marketing aims to affect bodily experiences, lifestyles, and interactions.  Flower delivery often has a romantic connotation, especially when between a man and a woman.  Indeed when I have told others about this experience with Teleflora, I’ve been asked if Andrew and I are “just friends.”  I often assume these people have never ordered flowers for someone else.  A quick visit to the Teleflora website and you can see how flowery delivery breaks down into so many occasions and interactions, from “Get Well Soon” to “New Baby” to “Just Because.”  This seems to serve as a reassurance; it says that this interaction between the sender and receiver is acceptable and will be appreciated.  For me, just the fact that the bamboo arrangement as a product existed seemed to imply that “No, it wouldn’t be overstepping the line if you to buy this for your friend.” 

Relate marketing expands beyond the individual’s personal, private feelings, thus adding to “individual experiences” and relating the individual to his or her ideal self, other people, and cultures.  My ideal self is a considerate friend who listens and tries her best to make others happy.  Teleflora failed me on this count especially because Andrew had to reorganize his busy schedule to make time for the florist to come deliver.  Something that was intended to be a pleasant deviation from the ordinary routine of his day became an inconvenience, an obtrusion.  It made me feel guilty for taking away from his time.  Teleflora also failed to relate to me through its people, an extremely important experience provider in the service industry.  Not only was the local florist as confused as I was but the Teleflora representative was unapologetic and seemed to not give my concerns the weight I thought they deserved.  Indeed, what most infuriated me was the Teleflora representative's audacious assumption that I would continue to buy from Teleflora despite such a pathetic service failure.  

Epilogue: Weeks later, I checked the Yahoo! email account I reserve for online purchases.  I never received the 10% discount off of my next order.

Blog Assignment 01: Empathy Map

What do you think and feel?

What really matters to me is achieving and maintaining what I perceive to be balance.  As metaphysical as it sounds, for the past year or so, I have become much more aware of the daily balancing act that goes on in my head.  I love eating, but I fear mass-produced foods.  I want to be involved in my family members’ lives, but I don’t want to make their problems mine anymore.  I want professional success but I want to foster my social and personal lives. 

Right now, I am engrossed with being a student.  To be clear, the actual classes and homework don’t take up very much time but I have always felt that being truly knowledgeable is about how much you are able to teach yourself – and that pursuit is what really takes up time.  Graduate school was a last-minute decision for me.  Before graduating from my undergrad I thought I had it all planned out but I suppose that goes to show that you never know how things are going to change – even if just in the immediate future.  However, so far I am really enjoying graduate school a lot more than my undergrad years.  I feel freer to explore my interests and to express my opinions. 

Another major preoccupation for me is finally getting to enjoy the social life I have hitherto neglected.  When I was younger, there were other things that took priority over socializing but now I feel like I have finally figured out how to balance my responsibilities with my leisure time.  In the past semester I have met a lot of interesting people and made some really great friends along the way.  No one usually believes me, but I really do enjoy spending time with others and getting to know new people.  I put a lot of importance on spending time with the people in my life and sharing their great company. 

I’m really excited about finding a job.  I think I have been mentally prepared for it since my sophomore year in college; it’s just my experience and credibility that have needed to catch up.  I aspire to eventually settle into a job that I really truly enjoy and that makes a tangible difference in people’s lives.  I know that sounds a little vague but I don’t want to pigeonhole myself into one specific thing.  For a long time, I thought I would work as an account planner at a prestigious advertising agency but now I am looking into international marketing consultancy.  There are three big things I want in a job: fulfillment, travel, and money (but more on that later). 

Sometimes, I worry I am taking too long to get things started (and then I realize I’m just 23 years old so that’s ok).  I worry I don’t do enough for my health.  I worry I’ll become a crazed career woman who, as my best friend Celeste put it, “will miss her first child’s birth because she was busy sending a blast e-mail on her corporate Blackberry.”  I worry that as an adult I won’t have time for the things I really care about.  I worry my cynicism will win out and I’ll stop believing that we can ever really understand each other. 

What do you see?

I see people I know getting engaged, married, pregnant, and divorced (not necessarily in that order).  I see my own family dispersing and my friends moving away.  I see my parents become theirs.  I see myself becoming my parents.  I see need and excess in the same places.  I see us getting fatter and dumber and more entitled.  I see that blatant discrimination has become refined into a subtle, deleterious agenda.  I see people throwing plastic bottles away when there is a recycling bin right next to the trashcan and then throwing used tissues away in the recycling bin.  I see this city and for the first time in 5 years I think I am starting to love it. 

I see that my friends are facing a lot of the same uncertainties as I do.  I see that they are all intelligent, capable people who lead fascinating normal lives.  I see their enthusiasm to make themselves known. 

I see the market offers me 27 different flavors of Jell-O.  I don’t blame the market for making people materialistic because I see that the market really does try to give people what they want.  But people for the most part don’t know what they want.  I see that the market is getting better in a lot of ways.  I see that the market tries to enact social change.  I see that the market is everyone’s favorite scapegoat. 

What do you say and do?

I asked people who know me about this one – call it secondary research – and got a mixed bag of answers.  What I say and do really depend on the context or the situation.  I have always felt that the way I express my personality is fairly mutable.  I’ll never hear anyone say, “That is so Natalie!”  It also doesn’t help that I like to try on different personalities for my own personal amusement. 

In public I am usually reserved and friendly.  I am polite but not overly so.  I try to make people feel comfortable so I tweak the way I express myself quite a bit.  I have problems with eye contact.  I cross my arms too much.  I love talking, especially with my hands, and am rarely shy.  I walk with purpose.  I greet salespeople and thank waiters.  I treat everyone with respect always.  I’m nice to people until they prove to me that they don’t deserve it.  I’d rather hear what people have to say than talk about myself.  I hold doors open for people.  I buy rounds.

I hate feeling dirty or messy.  Showers wake me up so until I have had mine I feel like my day has not started.  I like being well groomed.  I get my nails done.  I’m always neatly dressed.  I love fashion and shopping for clothes but I don’t read fashion magazines because I believe they serve to bring down your self-esteem by making you want what you can’t have.  I have a penchant for solids but I am trying to get more prints in my wardrobe.  I’ve been told I dress “French.”  I rarely wear heels and I just started wearing make up last year. 

I run, swim, do yoga, hike, camp, and play.  I go to art museums but always skip the American and Egyptian wings.  I observe people; my most recent endeavor is figuring out if and why we think Laundromats are sexy.  I sing when I am alone, even if I don’t know the language.  I keep a Twitter feed of things people say that I find interesting or just clever.  I get out of my comfort zone on a daily basis and will try anything at least once.  I sponsor a little girl in the Philippines.  I advocate jelly multivitamins.  I spend hours at bookstores.  I say a lot of half-truths, self-deprecating remarks, and blunt observations.  I never say things to purposely hurt others.  I make 25 New Year’s resolutions each year and usually keep about ten of them. 

What do you hear?

I hear my friends’ worries about the future.  I hear their hopes and wishes and I want so badly for them to understand that they are all within their grasp.  I hear them reminisce about good times we have had together and plan for more memories.  I hear them make references to 90s pop culture that I’ll never quite understand.  I hear them talk about this new whatever they bought and how much they love or hate it. 

I hear my bosses complain about employees’ lack of good writing skills and motivation.  I hear them trying to make sense about how fast things are changing.  I hear them negotiate with the client then mute the conference call and let loose a string of expletives.  I hear them use a lot of marketing buzzwords like “synergy,” “core competencies,” and “touching base.”  I hear them ask me to teach them what I am learning.  I hear them say, “We’re sad to see you go; come back after graduation.” 

I don’t hear influencers.  I am an influencer.  I'm constantly buying and trying new products.  On any one given shopping trip I buy at least three new items to the market.  I'm the type who tells my mom she should buy Eggland's Best eggs because they taste better and she will because she knows I know what I am talking about.  I let people know what I think about that new movie or that one book and I tell them if I think they would like it or if they should pass on it.  I consider myself pretty good at approximating what people I know will like and what they won't.  

What are your pain points?

I don’t have a great many number of fears.  I don’t fear making mistakes or even failure.  I suppose my greatest fear is finding out that what I have heard all my life – “It’s never too late to change” – is a huge lie.  I fear being in a position where I have convinced myself that it is too late to change and that things will remain the same.

My greatest frustration is my lack of passion.  I know so many people who are dedicated to one or two things that they are absolutely passionate about.  My friend Bryan, for example, is passionate about heavy metal and MMA; these two things fulfill him and take up the inner orbits of his life.  I guess I am secretly envious of people like that; they make it look so simple to be utterly consumed by one specific thing, as if it were effortless.  And I suppose it should be.  I, on the other hand, am interested in so many things but passionate about very few.  And those things that I am passionate about I dedicate little time to so then I can only deduce that I am not truly passionate about them. 

My biggest obstacle always has been and always will be myself.  I often feel that I make life to hard on myself and don’t enjoy it as much as I should.  I take myself too seriously and wish that I wouldn’t.  I know I’ll regret it later. 

What do you hope to gain?

I know perfection doesn’t exist but I have this image in my head of what would make me happiest and I want to get as close to that as I can. 

I want to love what I do.  I want to always be curious.  I want to get better at cooking.  I want to be surrounded by the people who care about me.  I want a house with a garden.  I want to live in another country for a few years.  I want to have time to indulge my hobbies and interests.  I want to travel more.  I want to raise my children with my best friends’ children.  I want to one day make my husband deliriously happy.  I want to write a book.  When I retire I want to own a bakery/flower shop and just spend my day arranging hydrangeas and icing mille feuilles.   

I don’t believe people who say money isn’t important.  They’re either lying or have always had it.  I once had a trust-funder boyfriend whose only wise words were, “Money is a means to an end.”  He was so right.  I want to be successful in my professional life because I want to live well.  I don’t want to worry about how the bills are going to get paid or where the next meal is going to come from.  I want to be able to provide my family with all the things they need.  I want to be able to support myself in the event of a family disaster. 

The simplest measure to my success is happiness.  I don’t care if some of these things don’t work out as long as I am happy – and not just the kind of happy where you settle and decide “well, it’s the best I can do” – but real, true happiness.  That would be paradise.

My greatest obstacle as I mentioned before is myself.  Sometimes I put the things I want on hold so that I can do the things others expect of me.  I guess that was fine when I gave in to my parents’ wishes and went to college but I think now is the time to do what I want to do.