Category Archives: Behavior & Psychology

Weighing Positive and Negative Impacts on Users

First published January 31, 2013 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

We humans hate loss. In fact, we seem to value losing something about twice as high as gaining something. For example, imagine I gave you a coffee cup and then offered to buy it back from you. That’s scenario 1. In scenario 2, I ask you to buy the same coffee cup from me. The price you assign to the coffee cup in the first scenario will be, on the average, about twice as much as in the second. And yes, there’s research to back this up.

When it comes to winning and losing, it’s been proven that “loss looms larger than gains.” It’s just one of the weird glitches in our logical circuitry.  We tend to be hardwired to look at glasses as half empty.

Recently, I was reviewing an academic study done in 2008, with this scintillating title: “Procedural Priming and Consumer Judgment: Effects on the Impact of Positively and Negatively Valenced Information” by Shen and Wyer. If you can get beyond the rather dry title, you find a treasure trove of tidbits to consider when crafting your online user experience.

For example, when we evaluate a product for potential purchase, we may run across both positive and negative information. The order we run into this information can have a dramatic impact on what we do downstream from that interaction. To use psychological terms, it “primes” our mental framework.  And, because we tend to focus on negatives, less favorable information has a greater impact on our decision than positive information.

But it’s not just that we pay more attention to bad news than good news. It’s that bad news can hijack the entire consideration process. According to Shen and Wyer, if we run into negative information, it can change our information-seeking strategies, leading us down further negatively biased channels to confirm the initial information we saw. Bad news tends to lead to more bad news.

Also, we can get “bad news” hangovers. If we compare negatives in one decision process, that negative mental framework can carry over to an entirely different decision that has nothing to do with the first, giving us a heightened awareness of negative information in the new situation.

Here’s another interesting finding. If we’re rushed for time, this preoccupation with the negatives will dramatically affect the decision we make. But, if we have all the time in the world, the impact is relatively insignificant. Given time, we seem to cancel out our inherently negative biases.

All this news is not bad for marketers, however. It seems that simply getting users to state their preference for one feature over another, even though they’re not actively considering purchase at that time, leads to a much greater likelihood of purchase in the future. It seems that if you can get users to compare alternatives — and, more importantly, to commit to saying they prefer one alternative over another — they clear the mental hurdle of deciding “will I buy?” and instead start considering  “what will I buy?”

Finally, there is also a recency effect, especially if prospects had ample time to consider all their alternatives. Shen and Wyer found that the last information considered seemed to have the greatest effect on the buyer.  So, if information was both positive and negative, it was good to get the least favorable information in front of the prospect early, and then move to the most favorable information. Again, this is true only if the user had plenty of time to weigh the options. If they were rushed, the opposite was true.

All in all, these are all intriguing concepts to consider when crafting an ideal online user experience. They also underscore the importance of first impressions, especially negative ones.

McLuhan 50 Years Later

First published December 20, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

My daughter, who is in her senior year of high school, recently wrote an essay on Marshall McLuhan. She asked me to give my thoughts on McLuhan’s theories of media. To be honest, I hadn’t given McLuhan much thought since my college days, when I had packed away “Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man” for what I thought would likely be forever. I always found the title ironic. This book does many things, but promoting “understanding” is not one of them. It’s one of the more incomprehensible texts I’ve ever encountered.

My daughter’s essay caused me to dig up my half-formed understanding of what McLuhan was trying to say. I also tried to update that understanding from the early ‘60s, when it was written, to a half-century later, in the world we currently live in.

Consider this passage from McLuhan, written exactly 50 years ago: The next medium, whatever it is—it may be the extension of consciousness—will include television as its content, not as its environment, and will transform television into an art form. A computer as a research and communication instrument could enhance retrieval, obsolesce mass library organization, retrieve the individual’s encyclopedic function and flip into a private line to speedily tailored data of a saleable kind.

(See, I told you it was incomprehensible!)

The key thing to understand here is that McLuhan foretold something that I believe is unfolding before our eyes: The media we interact with are changing our patterns of cognition – not the message, but the medium itself. We are changing how we think. And that, in turn, is changing our society. While we focus on the messages we receive, we fail to notice that the ways we receive those messages are changing everything we know, forever. Twitter, Facebook, Google, the xBox and Youtube – all are co-conspirators in a wholesale rewiring of our world.

Now, to borrow from McLuhan’s own terminology, no one in our Global Village could ignore the horrific unfolding of events in Connecticut last week. But the channels we received the content through also affected our intellectual and visceral connection with that content. Watching parents search desperately for their children on television was a very different experience from catching the latest CNN update delivered via my iPhone.

When we watched through “hot” media, we connected at an immediate and emotional level. When the message was delivered through “cool” media, we stood somewhat apart, framing the messaging and interpreting it, abstracted at some length from the sights and sounds of what was unfolding. Because of the emotional connection afforded by the “hot” media, the terror of Newtown was also our own.

McLuhan foretold this as well: Unless aware of this dynamic, we shall at once move into a phase of panic terrors, exactly befitting a small world of tribal drums, total interdependence, and superimposed co-existence. […] Terror is the normal state of any oral society, for in it everything affects everything all the time.

My daughter is graduating next June. The world she will inherit will bear little resemblance to the one I stepped into, fresh from my own graduation in 1979. It is smaller, faster, more connected and, in many ways, more terrifying. But, has the world changed as much as it seems, or is it just the way we perceive that world? And, in that perception, are we the ones unleashing the change?

The “Savanna” Hypothesis of Online Design

First published December 6, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

I’m currently reading a fascinating paper titled “Evolved Responses to Landscapes” by Gordon Orians and Judith Heerwagen that was written back in 1992. The objective was to see if humans have an evolved preference for an ideal habitat. The researchers called their hunch the Savanna Hypothesis, noting that because homo sapiens spent much of our evolutionary history on the plains of tropical Africa, we should have a natural affinity for this type of landscape.

Your typical savanna features some cover from vegetation and trees, but not too much, which would allow natural predators to advance unnoticed. The environment should offer enough lushness to indicate the presence of ample food and water. It should allow for easy mobility. And it should be visually intriguing, encouraging us to venture and explore our habitat.

Here’s a quote from the paper: “Landscapes that aid and encourage exploration, wayfinding and information processing should be more favored than landscapes that impede these needs.”

The researchers, after showing participants hundreds of pictures of different landscapes, found significant support for their hypothesis. Most of us have a preference for landscapes that resemble our evolutionary origin. And the younger we are, the more predictable the preference. With age, we tend to adapt to where we live and develop a preference for it.

In reading this study, I couldn’t help but equate it to Pirolli and Card’s Information Foraging Theory. The two PARC researchers said that the strategies we use to hunt for information in a hyperlinked digital format (such as a webpage) seem to correspond to evolved optimal foraging strategies used by many species, including humans back in our hunting and foraging days. If, as Pirolli and Card theorized, we borrow inherent strategies for foraging and adapt them for new purposes, like looking for information, why wouldn’t we also apply evolved environmental preferences to new experiences, like the design of a Web page?

Consider the description of an ideal habitat quoted above. We want to be able to quickly determine our navigation options, with just a teaser of things still to explore. We want open space, so we can quickly survey our options, but we also want the promise of abundant rewards, either in the form of food and sustenance — or, in the online case, information and utility. After all, what is a website but another environment to navigate?

I find the idea of creating a home page design that incorporates a liberal dose of intrigue and promise particularly compelling. In a physical space, such an invitation may take the form of a road or pathway curving behind some trees or over a gentle rise. Who can resist such an invitation to explore just a little further?

Why should we take the same approach with a home page or landing page? Orians and Heerwagen explain that we tend to “way-find” through new environments in three distinct stages: First, we quickly scan the environment to decide if it’s even worth exploring. Do we stay here or move on to another, more hospitable location? This very quick scan really frames all the interactions to take place after it. After this “go-no/go” scan, we then start surveying the environment to gather information and find the most promising path to take. The final phase — true engagement with our surroundings — is when we decide to stay put and get some things done.

Coincidentally (or not?), I have found users take a very similar approach to evaluating a webpage. We’ve even entrenched this behavior into a usability best practice we call the “3 Scan Rule.” The first scan is to determine the promise of the page. Is it visually appealing? Is it relevant? Is it user-friendly? All these questions should be able to be answered in one second or less. In fact, a study at Carleton University found that we can reliably judge the aesthetic appeal of a website in as short a span as 50 milliseconds. That’s less time than it takes to blink your eye.

The second scan is to determine the best path. This typically involves exploring the primary navigation options, scanning graphics and headings and quickly looking at bullet lists to determine how “rich” the page is. Is it relevant to our intent? Does it look like there’s sufficient content for us to invest our time? Are there compelling navigation options that offer us more? This scan should take no more than 10 seconds.

Finally, there’s the in-depth scan. It’s here where we more deeply engage with the content. This can take anywhere from several seconds to several minutes.

At this point, the connection between the inherently pleasing characteristics of the African savanna and a well-designed website is no more than a hypothesis on my part. But I have to admit: I find the concept intriguing, like a half-obscured pathway disappearing over a swell on the horizon, waiting to be explored.

Pursuing the Unlaunched Search

First published November 29, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

Google’s doing an experiment. Eight times a day, randomly, 150 people get an alert from their smartphone and Google asks them this question, “ What did you want to know recently?” The goal? To find out all the things you never thought to ask Google about.

This is a big step for Google. It moves search into a whole new arena. It’s shifting the paradigm from explicit searching to implicit searching. And that’s important for all of the following reasons:

Search is becoming more contextually sensitive. Mobile search is contextually sensitive search. If you have your calendar, your to-do list, your past activities and a host of other information all stored on a device that knows where you are, it becomes much easier to guess what you might be interested in. Let’s say, for example, that your calendar has “Date with Julie” entered at 7 p.m., and you’re downtown. In the past year, 57% of your “dates with Julie” have generally involved dinner and a movie. You usually spend between $50 and $85 dollars on dinner, and your movies of choice generally vacillate between rom-coms and action-adventures (depending on who gets to choose).

In this scenario, without waiting for you to ask, Google could probably be reasonably safe in suggesting local restaurants that match your preferences and price ranges, showing you any relevant specials or coupons, and giving you the line-up of suggested movies playing at local theatres. Oh, and by the way, you’re out of milk and it’s on sale at the grocery store on the way home.

Can Googling become implicit? “We’ve often said the perfect search engine will provide you with exactly what you need to know at exactly the right moment, potentially without you having to ask for it,” says Google Lead Experience Designer Jon Wiley, one of the leads of the research experiment.

As our devices know more about us, the act of Googling may move from a conscious act to a subliminal suggestion. The advantage, for Google and us, is that it can provide us with information we never thought to ask for.  In the ideal state envisioned by Google, it can read the cues of our current state and scour its index of information to provide relevant options. Let’s say we just bought a bookcase from Ikea. Without asking, Google can download the user’s manual and pull relevant posts from user support forums.

It ingrains the Google habit. Google is currently in the enviable position of having become a habit. We don’t think to use Google, we just do. Of course, habits can be broken. Habits are a subconscious script that plays out in a familiar environment, delivering an expected outcome without conscious intervention. To break a habit, you usually look at disrupting the environment, stopping the script before it has a chance to play out.

The environment of search is currently changing dramatically. This raises the possibility of the breaking of the Google habit. If our habits suddenly find themselves in unfamiliar territory, the regular scripts are blocked and we’re forced to think our way through the situation.

But if Google can adapt to unfamiliar environments and prompt us with relevant information without us having to give it any thought, the company not only preserves the Google habit but ingrains it even more deeply. Good news for Google, bad news for Bing and other competitors.

It expands Google’s online landscape. Finally, at this point, Google’s best opportunity for a sustainable revenue channel is to monetize search. As long as Google controls our primary engagement point with online information, it has no shortage of monetization opportunities. By moving away from waiting for a query and toward proactive serving of information, Google can exponentially expand the number of potential touch points with users. Each of these  touch points comes with another advertising opportunity.

All this is potentially ground-breaking, but it’s not new. Microsoft was talking about Implicit Querying a decade ago. It was supposed to be built into Windows Vista. At that time, it was bound to the desktop. But now, in a more mobile world, the implications of implicit searching are potentially massive.

The Balancing of Market Information

First published October 25, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

In my three previous columns on disintermediation, I made a rather large assumption: that the market will continue to see a balancing of information available both to buyers and sellers. As this information becomes more available, the need for the “middle” will decrease.

Information Asymmetry Defined

Let’s begin by exploring the concept of information asymmetry, courtesy of George Akerlof, Michael Spence and Joseph Stiglitz.  In markets where access to information is unbalanced, bad things can happen.

If the buyer has more information than the seller, then we can have something called adverse selection. Take life and health insurance, for example. Smokers (on the average) get sick more often and die younger than non-smokers. If an insurance company has 50% of policyholders who are smokers, and 50% who aren’t, but the company is not allowed to know which is which, it has a problem with adverse selection. It will lose money on the smokers so it will increase rates across the board. The problem is that non-smokers, who don’t use insurance as much, will get angry and may cancel their policy. This will mean the “book of business” will become even less profitable, driving rates even higher.   The solution, which we all know, is simple: Ask policy applicants if they smoke. Imperfect information is thus balanced out.

If the seller has more information than the buyer, then we have a “market for lemons” (the name of Akerlof’s paper). Here,  buyers are  assuming risk in a purchase without knowingly accepting that risk, because they’re unaware of the problems that the seller knows exists. Think about buying a used car, without the benefit of an inspection, past maintenance records or any type of independent certification. All you know is what you can see by looking at the car on the lot. The seller, on the other hand, knows the exact mechanical condition of the car. This factor tends to drive down the prices of all products –even the good ones — in the market, because buyers assume quality will be suspect. The balancing of information in this case helps eliminates the lemons and has the long-term effect of improving the average quality of all products on the market.

Getting to Know You…

These two forces — the need for sellers to know more about their buyers, and the need for buyers to know more about what they’re buying — are driving a tremendous amount of information-gathering and dissemination. On the seller’s side, behavioral tracking and customer screening are giving companies an intimate glimpse into our personal lives. On the buyer’s side, access to consumer reviews, third-party evaluations and buyer forums are helping us steer clear of lemons. Both are being facilitated through technology.

But how does disintermediation impact information asymmetry, or vice versa?

If we didn’t have adequate information, we needed some other safeguard against being taken advantage of. So, failing a rational answer to this particular market dilemma, we found an irrational one: We relied on gut instinct.

Relying on Relationships

If we had to place our trust in someone, it had to be someone we could look in the eye during the transaction. The middle was composed of individuals who acted as the face of the market. Because they lived in the same communities as their customers, went to the same churches, and had kids that went to the same schools, they had to respect their markets. If they didn’t, they’d be run out of town. Often, their loyalties were also in the middle, balanced somewhere between their suppliers and their customers.

In the absence of perfect information, we relied on relationships. Now, as information improves, we still want relationships, because that’s what we’ve come to expect. We want the best of both worlds.

Will Customer Service Disappear with the Elimination of the “Middle”?

First published October 18, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

In response to my original column on disintermediation, Joel Snyder worried about the impact on customer service: The worst casualty is relationships and people skills. As consumers circumvent middlemen, they become harder to deal with. As merchants become more automated, customer service people have less power and less skills (and lower pay).

Cece Forrester agreed: Disintermediation doesn’t just let consumers be rude. It also lets organizations treat their customers rudely.

So, is rudeness an inevitable byproduct of disintermediation?

Rediscovering the Balance between Personalization and Automation

Technology introduces efficiency. It streamlines the “noise” and marketplace friction that comes with human interactions. But with that “noise” comes all the warm and fuzzy aspects of being human. It’s what both Joel and Cece fear may be lost with disintermediation. I, however, have a different view.

Shifts in human behavior don’t typically happen incrementally, settling gently into the new norm. They swing like a pendulum, going too far one way, then the other, before stability is reached. Some force — in this case, new technological capabilities — triggers the change. As society moves, the force, plus momentum, moves too far in one direction, which triggers an opposing force which pushes back against the trend. Eventually, balance is reached.

A Redefinition of Relationships

In this case, the opposing force will be our need for those human factors. Disintermediation won’t kill relationships. But it will force a redefinition of relationships. The challenge here is that existing market relationships were all tied to the “Middle,” which served as the bridge between producers and consumers. Because the Middle owned the end connection with the customer, it formed the relationships that currently exist. Now, as anyone who has experienced bad customer service will tell you, some who lived in the Middle were much better at relationships than others. Joel and Cece may be guilty of looking at our current paradigm through rose-colored glasses. I have encountered plenty of rudeness even with the Middle firmly in place.

But it’s also true that producers, who suddenly find themselves directly connected with their markets, have little experience in forming and maintaining these relationships. However, the market will eventually dictate new expectations for customer service, and producers will have to meet those expectations. One disintermediator, Zappos, figured that out very early in the game.

Ironically, disintermediation will ultimately be good for relationships. Feedback loops are being shortened. Technology is improving our ability to know exactly what our customers think about us. We’re actually returning to a much more intimate marketplace, enabled through technology. Producers are quickly educating themselves on how to create and maintain good virtual relationships. They can’t eliminate customer service, because we, the market, won’t let them. It will take a bit for us to find the new normal, but I venture to say that wherever we find it, we’ll end up in a better place than we are today.

A Decade with the Database of Intentions

First published September 27, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

It’s been over 10 years since John Battelle first started considering what he called the “Database of intentions.” It was, and is:

The aggregate results of every search ever entered, every result list ever tendered, and every path taken as a result. It lives in many places, but three or four places in particular hold a massive amount of this data (ie MSN, Google, and Yahoo). This information represents, in aggregate form, a place holder for the intentions of humankind – a massive database of desires, needs, wants, and likes that can be discovered, supoenaed, archived, tracked, and exploited to all sorts of ends. Such a beast has never before existed in the history of culture, but is almost guaranteed to grow exponentially from this day forward. This artifact can tell us extraordinary things about who we are and what we want as a culture. And it has the potential to be abused in equally extraordinary fashion.

When Battelle considered the implications, it overwhelmed him. “Once I grokked this idea (late 2001/early 2002), my head began to hurt.” Yet, for all its promise, marketers have only marginally leveraged the Database of Intentions.

In the intervening time, the possibilities of the Database of Intention have not diminished. In fact, they have grown exponentially:

My mistake in 2003 was to assume that the entire Database of Intentions was created through our interactions with traditional web search. I no longer believe this to be true. In the past five or so years, we’ve seen “eruptions” of entirely new fields, each of which, I believe, represent equally powerful signals – oxygen flows around which massive ecosystems are already developing. In fact, the interplay of all of these signals (plus future ones) represents no less than the sum of our economic and cultural potential.

Sharing Battelle’s predilection for “Holy Sh*t” moments, a post by MediaPost’s Laurie Sullivan this Tuesday got me thinking again about Battelle’s “DBoI.” A recent study by Google and EA showed that using search data can predict 84% of video game sales.  But the data used in the prediction is only scratching the surface of what’s possible. Adam Stewart from Google hints at what might be possible, “Aside from searches, Google plans to build in game quality, TV investment, online display investment, and social buzz to create a multivariate model for future analysis.”

This is very doable stuff. All we need to create predictive models that match (and probably far exceed) the degree of accuracy already available. The data is just sitting there, waiting to be interpreted. The implications for marketing are staggering, but to Battelle’s point, let’s not be too quick to corral this simply for the use of marketers. The DBoI has implications that reach into every aspect of our society and lives. This is big — really big! If that sounds unduly ominous to you, let me give you a few reasons why you should be more worried than you are.

Typically, if we were to predict patterns in human behavior, there would be two sources of signals. One comes from an understanding of how humans act. As we speak, this is being attacked on multiple fronts. Neuroscience, behavioral economics, evolutionary psychology and a number of other disciplines are rapidly converging on a vastly improved understanding of what makes us tick. From this base understanding, we can then derive hypotheses of predicted behaviors in any number of circumstances.

This brings us to the other source of behavior signals. If we have a hypothesis, we need some way to scientifically test it. Large-scale collections of human behavioral data allow us to search for patterns and identify underlying causes, which can then serve as predictive signals for future scenarios. The Database of Intentions gives us a massive source of behavior signals that capture every dimension of societal activity. We can test our hypotheses quickly and accurately against the tableau of all online activity, looking for the underlying influences that drive behaviors.

At the intersection of these two is something of tremendous import. We can start predicting human behavior on a massive scale, with unprecedented accuracy. With each prediction, the feedback loop between qualitative prediction and quantitative verification becomes faster and more efficient. Throw a little processing power at it and we suddenly have an artificially intelligent, self-ssimproving predictive model that will tell us, with startling accuracy, what we’re likely to do in the future.

This ain’t just about selling video games, people. This is a much, much, much bigger deal.

Paralyzed by Choice

First published June 28, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

In last week’s column, I looked at how Harvard Business Review bloggers Karen Freeman, Patrick Spenner and Anna Bird spelled the end of the purchase funnel. Today, I’d like to look at the topic they tackled in the second of the three-part series, “If Customers Ask for More Choice, Don’t Listen.”

Barry Schwartz, the author of “The Paradox of Choice,” believes we’re overloaded with choices. In fact, we have so many choices to make, often about inconsequential things, that we live with the constant anxiety of making the wrong choice.

This paradox meets today’s consumer head on, over and over, in situation after situation. The other factor, which I’ve seen play a massive role in buying behaviors, is the degree of risk in the purchase. The bigger the purchase, the higher the risk.

The final piece of the buying puzzle is the reward that lies at the end of the potential purchase. Our brains are built to balance risk and reward in fractions of a second. But we don’t do it by a calm, rational weighing of pros and cons, thus engaging the enlightened thinking part of our brains. We do it by unleashing emotions from the dark, primitive core of our brain. The risk/reward balance whips up a potent mix of neural activity that sets our decision-making engine in motion.

The degree of risk or reward sets the emotional framework for a purchase. High reward, low risk generally means a fairly fast purchase, such as an impulse buy. High risk, low reward may mean a very long purchase cycle with an extended consideration process. Whatever the buying path, there will be an undercurrent of emotion running just below the surface.

Now, let’s match up the findings of the HBR team. High-risk purchases automatically ramp up the level of anxiety we feel. We’re afraid we’ll make the wrong decision. And, in a complex purchase, there’s not just one decision to be made – there are several. At each decision point, we’re bombarded by choices. If the hundreds of purchase path evaluations I’ve done are any indication, the seller spends little time worrying about presenting those choices in a user-friendly way. Catalog pages are jammed with useless and irrelevant items. Internal site search results are generally abysmal. And product information typically takes the form of a long shopping list of features. Very little of it speaks to buyers in a language they care about.

This is a dangerous combination. We have the natural anxiety that comes with risk. We have a gauntlet of decisions to make, each raising the level of anxiety. And we have websites that contribute greatly to the frustration by making it difficult to navigate the information that does exist, which is either too little, too much, too irrelevant or too salesy — never does it seem to be just right.

Again, Freeman, Spenner and Bird ask us to make it simpler for the buyer. Provide them with fewer choices, and make them as relevant and compelling as possible. Ease the burden of risk by providing information that reassures. Realize that one of the components of risk is the degree of bias in the information we’re given. It that information reeks of marketing hyperbole, it will be discounted immediately.

In our numerous eye-tracking studies, we’ve found that in most instances, three to four options seems to be the right number to consider on a Web page. These can be easily loaded into working memory and compared without causing undue wear on our mental mechanics. So, on a landing or home page, three or four groups of coherent and relevant information seems to be an optimal level. We call them “intent clusters.” For navigation bar options, we try to keep it between five and seven choices. If we expect mostly transactional traffic, we ensure there is a “fast path” to purchase. If we expect a lot of purchase research, we aim for rich promises of relevant and reliable information.

As Freeman, Spenner and Bird remind us, “The harder consumers find it to make purchase decisions, the more likely they are to overthink the decision and repeatedly change their minds or give up on the purchase altogether. In fact, regression analysis points to decision complexity and resulting cognitive overload as the single biggest barrier to purchase.”

As marketers, our job is to eliminate the barriers, not erect new ones.

The Death of the Purchase Funnel

First published June 21, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

A recent series of three posts on the Harvard Business Review blog by Karen Freeman, Patrick Spenner and Anna Bird explored some of the myths about how consumers make decisions. I think each of these has direct implications for search marketers, so over the next three weeks I want to explore them one at a time.

The first, titled “What Do Consumers Really Want? Simplicity,” talks about the breakdown of the purchase funnel. The HBR bloggers contend the funnel, which has been around for well over a hundred years, no longer applies to consumer behaviors. I concur, and said as much in my book, “The BuyerSphere Project.”

We differ a little on the reason for the demise, however. The HBR team credits the demise to cognitive overload on the part of the consumer. We’re simply bombarded by too much information on the purchase path to fit it all into the nice, simple, rational filtering process captured in St. Elmo Lewis’s elegant funnel-shaped model. The accompanying research, a survey of 7,000 consumers, shows decision simplicity was the number-one thing people wanted when making a purchase.

I agree that information overload is part of it, but I also believe that two other factors have led to the end of the purchase funnel. First, the purchase funnel assumes a rational filtering of options based on careful consideration of a consumer’s requirements. I don’t think this was ever the case. Emotions drive our decisions, and more often than not, rationality is applied after the fact to justify our choices. Prior to the Internet, emotion was tough to distinguish from rationality, as buyers didn’t have much control over the content they accessed during the consideration process. They were limited to whatever the marketer pushed out at them. So, whether driven by emotion or logic, they tended to go down the same path and display many of the same behaviors. Given the pervasive believe in humans as rational animals at the time, it was not surprising that a logic-driven model emerged.

The other factor, as I alluded to, was that the Internet shifted the balance of power during the purchase process. Suddenly, we could choose which paths we took during the consideration process. We weren’t all forced down the same path, according to some arbitrary notion of a funnel-shaped model.

What became clear, when consumers could choose their own path, was that the simplicity of the funnel model bore little relation to the actual paths consumers took. And those paths were driven by emotion. People bounced all around, depending on what they were looking to buy. They could go all the way to a shopping cart, then suddenly abandon it and go back to a destination that would be considered “upper funnel” and start all over again. From the outside looking in, this resembled a bowl of spaghetti much more than it did a funnel.

So, we have a trio of suspects in the death of the purchasing funnel: cognitive overload, emotion trumping logic, and consumers gaining more control over their consideration path. All lead to an interesting concept to consider: laying an online path that anticipates the emotional needs of the buyer, and yet keeps the information presented from overwhelming them. For example, marketing has traditionally taken a “turf war” approach to persuading a prospect: “as long as they’re on our turf, we do everything possible to close the sale.

But this doesn’t really match up with the three trends we’re talking about. What online consumers are looking for, according to the HBR research, is a safe online zone that will make their decision easier. Rather than going from site to site, collecting information and filtering out overt marketing hyperbole, what consumers want is a single information source they can trust. They want to be able to lower their “anti-BS” shields, because being a rational, cynical shopper takes a lot of time and effort.

Today, it’s extremely rare to find that trustworthy information on a site you can actually purchase from, but it’s starting to happen in some high activity categories, where independent portals facilitate this simplified approach to shopping. Travel comes to mind.

But let’s consider what would happen if a brand’s website took this approach. Rather than bombard a prospect with exaggerated sales pitches, putting them on the defensive, what if a more neutral, objective experience was provided?  After all, why shouldn’t the decision path be built on your own turf, giving you a home field advantage?

A Look at the Future through Google Glasses?

First published June 7, 2012 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

“A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.” — Herbert Simon

Last week, I explored the dark recesses of the hyper-secret Google X project.  Two X Projects in particular seem poised to change our world in very fundamental ways: Google’s Project Glass and the “Web of Things.”

Let’s start with Project Glass. In a video entitled “One Day…,” the future seen through the rose-colored hue of Google Glasses seems utopian, to say the least. In the video, we step into the starring role, strolling through our lives while our connected Google Glasses feed us a steady stream of information and communication — a real-time connection between our physical world and the virtual one.

In theory, this seems amazing. Who wouldn’t want to have the world’s sum total of information available instantly, just a flick of the eye away?

Couple this with the “Web of Things,” another project said to be in the Google X portfolio.  In the Web of Things, everything is connected digitally. Wearable technology, smart appliances, instantly findable objects — our world becomes a completely inventoried, categorized and communicative environment.

Information architecture expert Peter Morville explored this in his book “Ambient Findability.”  But he cautions that perhaps things may not be as rosy as you might think after drinking the Google X Kool-Aid. This excerpt is from a post he wrote on Ambient Findability:  “As information becomes increasingly disembodied and pervasive, we run the risk of losing our sense of wonder at the richness of human communication.”

And this brings us back to the Herbert Simon quote — knowing and thinking are not the same thing. Our brains were not built on the assumption that all the information we need is instantly accessible. And, if that does become the case through advances in technology, it’s not at all clear what the impact on our ability to think might be. Nicholas Carr, for one, believes that the Internet may have the long-term effect of actually making us less intelligent. And there’s empirical evidence he might be right.

In his book “Thinking, Fast and Slow,”Noble laureate Daniel Kahneman says that while we have the ability to make intuitive decisions in milliseconds (Malcolm Gladwell explored this in “Blink”), humans also have a nasty habit of using these “fast” mental shortcuts too often, relying on gut calls that are often wrong (or, at the very least, biased) when we should be using the more effortful “slow” and rational capabilities that tend to live in the frontal part of our brain. We rely on beliefs, instincts and habits, at the expense of thinking. Call it informational instant gratification.

Kahneman recounts a seminal study in psychology, where four-year-old children were given a choice: they could have one Oreo immediately, or wait 15 minutes (in a room with the offered Oreo in front of them, with no other distractions) and have two Oreos. About half of the children managed to wait the 15 minutes. But it was the follow-up study, where the researchers followed what happened to the children 10 to 15 years later, that yielded the fascinating finding:

“A large gap had opened between those who had resisted temptation and those who had not. The resisters had higher measures of executive control in cognitive tasks, and especially the ability to reallocate their attention effectively. As young adults, they were less likely to take drugs. A significant difference in intellectual aptitude emerged: the children who had shown more self-control as four year olds had substantially higher scores on tests of intelligence.”

If this is true for Oreos, might it also be true for information? If we become a society that expects to have all things at our fingertips, will we lose the “executive control” required to actually think about things? Wouldn’t it be ironic if Google, in fulfilling its mission to “organize the world’s information” inadvertently transgressed against its other mission, “don’t be evil,” by making us all attention-deficit, intellectual-diminished, morally bankrupt dough heads?