The Organ Grinder’s Monkey

Hubs and I like to joke that telling our friends what we got each other for Christmas does nothing for our reputations as eccentric weirdos.

For instance, along with a nice gift box of gourmet chocolates, I got him a small pottery cup he admired and a rock. I got a CD, a small and inexpensive assortment of knitting/crocheting tools and three wooden spoons. And we were both ecstatically happy with our gifts.

OTOH, our friends, who all fall into the “expensive jewelry, electronics and other civilized doo-dads” category of officially-approved gift ideas, think we’re insane. Or poverty-stricken. Or both.

And what’s more, they’ve gone to ridiculous lengths in the past to try to convince hubby (I don’t bother talking to them about it) that “it’s a trap,” that I really want the sort of things they want - jewelry, roses, expensive electronics, etc. - and that I’m just “testing” him to see if he really loves me. Or something like that.

But the fact is, we both got exactly what we wanted. I’ve been kinda-sorta knitting on and off for years, but have just taken up crochet and it’s reignited my interest for both. And somewhere along the line, I have failed to accumulate any useful tools such as row counters and stitch holders, so I’ve been stuck basically making scarves, simple hats and other basic projects. But I want to try something more complicated, so I’ve been hinting outrageously about getting some of these tools all month. (I, for one, consider the prospect of spousal psychic abilities to be right up there with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, and prefer to act accordingly.)

Ditto the wooden spoons. If you’ve ever tried to mix up gingerbread cookies or biscuit dough with a flat-handled, stamped metal spoon, you’ll understand my excitement upon unwrapping a package containing a sturdy, straight-grained wooden mixing spoon with a fat, ergonomically-designed handle, along with a matching slotted spoon and spatula-like scraper implement, neither of which we have any real good substitute for and the absence of which we have been miserably bitching about all year.

For his part, hubs has been talking about how he needed a “manly teacup,” since he enjoys joining me and our neighbor for tea but feels a little silly doing the pinky thing with one of my distinctly girly delicate floral versions. Hence the lovely pottery cup, hand-made by a local artisan and just the right size for cupping in the hands. And it’s not in the slightest bit girly (it’s roughly glaze-washed with a vaguely oriental grasslike motif embossed on the side - very manly).

Oh, and the rock? Well, hubby is a rock guy. Not in the geological sense, but in a spiritual sense. He feels strongly connected to rocks and keeps a collection of rocks he’s come across which provide him with, variously, soothing, healing or energizing vibes. Weird? Maybe. But it’s deeply meaningful to him. And this particular rock - a deep, glassy black to begin with - was hand-painted with beautiful, shimmering Asian-style goldfish by artisans engaged in a fair-trade project, creating an piece that strongly resembles a gold-on-black goldfish art print that hubby fell in love with, but that we couldn’t afford to buy. He loves it.

So he got a rock. I got spoons. And we’re both tickled pink.

What does this have to do with business or marketing? Simply this: Too many business act like our friends and neighbors, convinced that we, the customers, would really prefer to have what they, the businesses, want to sell us, if only they can figure out how to convince us of this truth. So instead of finding out what the customer really wants and providing them with that, they spend all their money making what they want and trying to convince the customers to buy that.

But the customer wants what they want. If they want wooden spoons or a rock, that’s what they want, regardless of how weird it sounds to you. And no matter how much money you throw at it, no amount of marketing or advertising is going to convince them that they want diamond necklaces, a game console or a plasma tv, even if you’re sure that they’d really love it if they just tried it. Because, see, you really love it.

But they’re not you and they’re never going to be you. It has nothing to do with the intrinsic value of your product, it’s monetary worth, it’s quality or it’s “rightness” for their situation. It simply has to do with human nature. They don’t care that you spent years perfecting your system for self improvement, or that your heart and soul went into making this incredible gizmo. It it’s not what they want, they aren’t going to be convinced to buy it. Or, if you do manage to talk them into it, they won’t be happy with it when they get it. Because it’s what you always wanted, not them.

If you want to make your customers happy - deeply, lastingly, loyally happy - find out what they want and, no matter how weird it seems to you and assuming it’s legal and ethical, give it to them. And if you find out that what you’re selling isn’t what they want to buy, for heaven’s sake don’t spend all your time, energy and money trying to convince them that they’re wrong.

Because that’s an argument you’re never going to win.

customer, customer satisfaction, marketing, sales

Tags: Society and Culture //