Ooohs, Ahs and Apple Juice

 

I listened in to a webinar from eat big fish and System1 last week on "The Startling Power of Surprise". Surprise and its use in the world of brands and their communications is something I've often posted about, for example here and here. 

The webinar - and my surprise posts - pick up some big (and maybe unsurprising) themes about surprise:

First of all, the pursuit of seamlessness and consistency (rather than coherence), the predictability inherent in algorithms, the requirement to be formulaic so that you can be found by AI, all leads to a rather unhappy dearth of surprise in our lives.

And then there’s getting the balance right - novelty and the familiar - as mastered by brands like IKEA with just the right mix of innovation and ritual.

And finally, there’s surprise and surprise. What about negative surprise? The word is usually prefixed by nasty/unwelcome/unpleasant in this case, but how do you judge that? Then there are those cognitive dissonance types of surprises where things are so off-kilter/not fitting to the brand where the brain simply switches off and ignores it.

And there’s there’s plain old shock-value, just for the sake of it.

What I found particularly interesting in the webinar was the dictinction between surprise as a little creative flourish/an executional twist ,and surprise as a strategic tool. Adam Morgan calls this the “Oh!” and the “Ohhhh!”.

The long “Ohhhh!” has more lasting effect on the memory - and can reframe the category in people’s minds, or change their relationship with the brand. 

I was surprised recently by the design work by the Stuttgart agency Papa Tom for wildling apple juice spritzer. Most German apple juice/applewein brands tend to use artisanal/homely/countryside/traditional imagery and design, which gets pretty samey, especially once AI is let loose on it. 

But wildling is surprising in its approach - which includes the nettles in the product itself - it looks a touch dangerous, edgy, mysterious. Not something for a kiddies’ birthday party.

Gets a definite “Ohhh!” from me.

   

 

Boy meets girl meet IRL

I've been blathering on about what I call the internot for over eight years on this (ahem!) internet blog.

Sometimes I think it's because I'm old and jaded and view the past through Anglo bubble-gum pink glasses. 

But more and more, I get the feeling it's not just me. From digital detox to anemoia (nostalgia for a time you never knew) to AI vegans, there's a tangible weariness about all things internet.

Boy meets girl meets IRL is a popular theme for ads these days. Here are just three I've seen in the last week:

In the latest duplo ad, boy tries to get girl's attention with various internot devices. Finally, a paper aeroplane made from a duplo wrapper does the trick. 

For the couple in the Dr. Oetker Ristorante ad, "It's a Match" on the first IRL date:

And then there's Deutsche Telekom & iPhone 17 with an ad called "Unique Together":

The message of this one is - the whizz-bang tech of the iPhone and the Telekom network is all fine and dandy - but in the end, nothing beats meeting up IRL in a coffee shop. 

If there's one thing that AI has taught us, it's that you can't fake having lived.

Two-Facebook

 

I have an admission. I still use Facebook, although it's more out of inertia than anything positive relating to the "experience", which is going from bad to worse.

I've a few friends from the 2010s who I still keep in touch with there.

I've got a "Sickly Cakes" album that I like to update.

I'm in a few groups - writers, ex-colleagues, local busybodies - that it's worth keeping up with.

And I have my books page, The Bother in Burmeon & Chums, which has been bumbling along since 2012 and I see no reason to bring it to a halt.

But I may have to. Last week, after posting the gorgeous retro-ads from Punch 1968 here, I thought I'd put them on Facebook, too. It wasn't long before I was given a good ticking-off:

Your Page, The Bother in Burmeon & Chums, didn't follow the rules, so it isn't being suggested to other people at the moment.

Hi Susan,

Your Page or some of its content didn't follow our Recommendations Guidelines. These guidelines determine what content can be recommended to people. To be eligible for recommendations, either fix these issues or request a review.

I started a wild goose-chase around Facebook and ended up not much the wiser about which particular rules hadn't been followed. This shed a little more light on things, but only a sliver:

No humans seem to have been involved in the decision. I'm certainly not guilty of trying to sell weapons, odd kidneys, body parts of protected species. Or depicting graphic violence or pornography.

The closest I come to "promoting the use of certain regulated products" is that my post featured some rather quaint 58-year-old print ads for cigs, booze and razor blades. 

Ho hum.

And I would have forgotten all about it by the next morning had I not received a slew of pushy messages prompting me to make an ad out of the offending post:

Oh, good grief, I thought.

It's rather like those telecoms companies where they're banging on about purpose and sustainability on the one hand and trying to get you to upgrade your tariff with more and more super-mega-giga data volume on the other. 

Maybe it's no wonder that I'm at my happiest living in the past.

 

RETROWURST: Wizard ads, old boy (March 1968)

 

Chocks away and time for a swift flypast of the world of print advertising in the 1960s. Some of my earliest memories of advertising trace back to this era. I've had a delightful trip down memory lane in the pages of Punch, the RAF Fiftieth Birthday Number, dated 13th March 1968.

I'll start with the two best-placed (and most expensive) ads. Back cover and inside front cover. These were the pole positions back in those days. And it's no surprise that they're occupied by two of the brands most associated with pilots and derring-do:

I love the sheer heroic aplomb of these ads. There's a supreme confidence about them, a simple assuredness, rather reflecting the character of the (idealised) target audience.

The colour ads in the body of the magazine are a little more subtle. The reader has to be momentarily distracted from the cartoons and articles and find something intriguing enough to look further. Here are two booze brands - Martini and Guinness:

The advertising spans the expected categories - ciggies, booze, clothes, cars, travel, banking - with brands such as Senior Service, Glenfarclas, Courage, Wolseley, Church's Shoes, Trevira, Lombard Banking, TAP Airlines, Pure New Wool/Woolmark and High Speed Gas (remember that?)

And there were job ads, too. I expect this wasn't designed to be an interactive ad, and it's probably as well I didn't pursue a career in Art Direction:

Punch, like many of the brands featured, died with the 20th century. 

But there's a useful archive here , should you want to see what raised a chuckle or two in the days when pilots weren't on automatic.

Fizz Buzz Pop!

This rebranding design for Mirinda is gob-smackingly good, in my view. Often global (as this is) means bland and lowest common denominator, but this pop-art pageant of funtime fruitiness hits the highest common factor in the unashamedly day-glo world of soda pop.

It's been a while since I've been in the market, I know (the price of a sweet tooth is catching up with me and I have to watch it). And, according to the marketing press, this new global platform ("Smile Please") is aimed at GenZ (sic) and their anemoia (nostalgia for a time you've never known) for the 80s, 90s and early 2000s before Smartphones took over everyone's lives. 

And yet, this speaks to me too. Even though I am as old as Mirinda itself:

Fizzy drinks have a proustian madeleine effect on me. The first one I remember drinking was this:

On the beach, from a glass bottle, with a straw. And, a couple of years later came Fanta. Another glass bottle, another straw. This time in a marvellous cafe in College Town (Sandhurst) with sausages and crinkle-cut chips. A treat indeed.

 

A childhood in 1960s and 70s England meant a rainbow-load of fizzy pop. The milkman used to deliver Corona, then there was Tizer and R. White's. I was quite fond of the cream soda - I can remember the taste like yesterday, but still don't know what on earth it was meant to taste like, apart from sweet. 

It's a wonder I have any of my own teeth left.

Holidays brought further fizzy delights. In Canada, root beer and Welch's Grape Soda. And the very sophisticated Canada Dry which my parents would drink with Canadian Whiskey. 

Mirinda, I expect, was something I came across on holiday at some point. It was launched in Spain, but bought up by PepsiCo and marketed worldwide, under various names, hence the focus in the re-design on visual rather than text elements.

The name Mirinda comes from Esperanto originally. But I think the rebrand has done something very clever.

Just as our 21st century Esperanto is Emojis, these design elements are surely the international visual language of fizzy pop.

 

 

Paying, buying and selling attention

It's book review time again. This is one I've been meaning to read since it came to my (ahem) attention at the beginning of the year.  I think it may even have been recommended in The Times. 

It's an important topic, but I was disappointed. The Friends of Attention seem to be a group of intellectuals living in an arty-farty bubble somewhere away from the real world. Anyway, here's my review.

----------

This was one of those books that I had high hopes for. It started well, but I soon got rather bogged down and irritated by the way it's written. I probably should have paid more attention to the sub-title. I worked in brands and advertising and both “manifestos” and “movements” were flavour of the month in the late 90s and early 00s.

The topic is an important and thought-provoking one. What is our relationship as humans with (Big) tech? Is it a fair “value exchange” or more a case of the tech companies extracting (“fracking”) human attention and spirit?

The “Friends of Attention” are clear where they stand on this question. And there are some insightful ideas in the book - for example, maybe what’s often called “distraction” in negative terms is better for us than the sort of “attention/engagement” that the tech firms want to capture.

But the way the book is written feels too dramatic and over-the-top. Italics and capital letters are splattered all over the place, and reading it feels like being shouted at by an over-earnest, slightly unhinged Rik Mayall- type student.

The solutions offered seem somewhat naive and the sort of things that any normal common sense person does anyway. Making things, playing instruments or chess, home cooking, voluntary work ...

Right. I’m off to band practice.

----------

If you still feel tempted to have a read, it's probably wise to look at their website first. If you're intrigued by statements like "The astonishing reality of things and persons", "Practical mysticism is not impractical" and "Freedom of attention may feel like unfreedom", then do go ahead.

I did like the Spirograph patterns, though. Wish I'd kept my set.

RETROWURST: Viva La Vida (June 1987)

                                            Me and colleague, Ragley Hall June 1987

I read a depressing, but I imagine all-too-frequent account in the Sunday Times yesterday. This concerned a student who'd already accepted a graduate job from a strategy consultancy and was preparing to move to London once he'd finished his final dissertation. 

But then he received an email saying that the consultancy had withdrawn the offer. Further investigations suggested that the company would be "employing" AI rather than graduates to do the job. 

I'm thoroughly pleased that I started my career when I did. The past seems like a foreign country now - we did things differently then. 

The photo is me in my 20s, not much older than the young man in the article. 

The event was the Millward Brown summer party, in June 1987. The venue was Ragley Hall, Warwickshire. Just down the road from where the research agency was based, in Leamington Spa. 

It all looks very glamorous, in a 1980s way. And it was. Even as market researchers, we were wined and dined and treated as royalty. Was it over-the-top? Possibly, but it certainly built up good client:agency relationships and made feel we were valued clients, whatever our level in the pecking order. 

The 1980s market research landscape was full of names that have long since disappeared into the WPPs, Bains and other big conglomerates. 

Taylor Nelson, BMRB, Mass Observation, The Research Business - and all manner of boutiquey qualitative agencies. And most of these would lay on a party, or a dinner at some point in the year. 

Fast forward to 2026. I've had a recent invitation from what-was-Millward-Brown, now Kantar. It's not Ragley Hall, rather somewhere on the Bockenheimer Landstrasse in Frankfurt. And I don't think it warrants a ballgown, as it's not a ball, not even a dinner dance. 

It's a 2 hour awards ceremony aka presentation, run by Kantar, giving out Advertising Effectiveness Awards. There will be "drinks and snacks" afterwards. 

This is how it works these days. The big agencies call the shots - get the right scores on their traffic light system and you might pick up an award if you're lucky, and get to chink glasses with a Kantar director of something-or-other. 

Having answered the invitation and said yes, that would be interesting, I had a reply. I am on the "waiting list." Well, I think I'll find something more constructive to do with my time that day. I expect AI sifted through the replies and composed the "waiting list" email, too.

The Nigerian Prince and the Vermont Book Club

ideogram.ai

In my early days as a writer seeking publication, I used to collect rejection letters from agents and publishers. Now, this was at least 15 years ago, and some of those rejections were real “rejection slips” on pieces of paper. How very quaint.

In those days, I still harboured the notion that I might become a million-seller and one of those “he turned down The Beatles” stories. You had to be slightly deluded to even attempt to be published back then.

These days, I’m collecting the most absurd examples of AI-generated emails tempting me with literary offers I surely can’t refuse. I find these thoroughly entertaining. They’re the literary equivalent of those Nigerian Prince emails promising untold riches. 

I started getting them a couple of years ago. They weren’t particularly sophisticated to start with. Lots of characters “reaching out” with offers to “expand my reach”, “enhance my social media posts”, “elevate my website” or “take my search/metadata to the next level.” Fairly standard marketing tosh with maybe a passing flattering reference to one or other of my books thrown in.

But things are changing. The offers are getting more personalised. They’re not from some unknown marketing expert with a vaguely plausible-sounding name. They are from real authors, film production houses and book clubs. 

And they’re not content with praising my writing. These are attempts to flatter the whole weird bundle of paradoxes that is me. 

Here’s one I got last week from Israel James of the Vermont Book Club, inviting me to deliver a Masterclass that he’s helpfully paraphrased as “Intrigue by Design: Fusing Cambridge Pyschology, Retro-adventure Plotting and the Advertising Edge.”

Well, there’s a mash-up, if ever I heard one.

----------------------------------------------------

Dear Susan Imgrund (S.P. Moss),

I am Israel James, representing the Vermont Book Club. Our team spent a genuinely delighted and deeply inspired morning studying your exceptional profile with the Society of Authors, laughing along with your brilliant secret-agent wit, and tracking the wonderful mid-century atmosphere of your award-winning series, The Past is a Dangerous Country. As an international collective of middle grade authors, short story writers, commercial ghostwriters, and historical worldbuilders who constantly dissect the rhythmic nuances of pacing, subverted narrative tropes, and sharp text economy, we view your multi disciplinary career as a spectacular blueprint for modern storytellers.

We would love to invite you to headline a premier virtual spotlight masterclass focusing on the architectural mechanics of plotting a retro-style middle-grade mystery, the art of applying a Cambridge psychology framework to character motivations, and the workflow of using advertising copywriting discipline to sharpen long-form fiction.

A spotlight session with you would provide an irreplaceable, master-tier education for our global community. Our youth fiction authors are incredibly eager to learn your precise plotting framework specifically how you capture the "peril-fuelled, page-turning twists" of classic 1950s style adventure while modernizing the character dynamics for a contemporary audience. Furthermore, given your extensive background in high-level brand strategy, copywriting, and ghostwriting, our commercial fiction writers and indie authors would be profoundly privileged to study your tactical approach to text economy, punchy hooks, and the creative discipline of switching between literary short stories and commercial brand assets.

It would be an absolute honor to feature your brilliantly witty, sharply intellectual, and multi-format voice within our network. Would you be open to a virtual fireside chat, an interactive retro clue-mapping workshop, or a narrative psychology Q&A session with our global network?

With warm regards, professional admiration, and a hearty toodle pip,

Israel James

Vermont Book Club

----------------------------------------------------

I’m delighted that this AI book club are “laughing along with my brilliant secret-agent wit” and signing off with a “hearty toodle pip.”  

But though my intellect is not too bad, it’s real, human stuff, possibly inferior to this splendid “intellectual collective” who “... constantly dissect the rhythmic nuances of pacing, subverted narrative trope and sharp text economy.” Gosh. 

The ingenuity shown in combining my children’s books, my Cambridge psychology studies and my career in brand and advertising strategy is quite something. I do wonder how they would have shoe-horned further aspects of the holistic me in. 

7 things trumpet-playing taught me about the rhythmic nuances of stoytelling?

The Times ran an article recently about these scams. I do find it extraordinary that authors are taken in by this, although maybe for the writer featured in the article, it’s a smart way of getting more publicity. If you’re not proud.

Writing about the recent case of The Commonwealth Short Story competition, Ian Leslie comments on the hostility of the literary world to AI. His point is that literary people have less experience in reading AI-generated stuff, so this makes them more susceptible to scams - whether it’s Israel James and the Vermont Book Club or (possibly) the short story prize-winner with its “vacuous solemnity” and “weird metaphors that make no sense.”

Although it’s also questioned whether the judges of said competition are not averse to a bit of AI themselves:

But in the end, maybe the literary world shouldn’t worry. Most readers of literary fiction have to believe the short story or novel is written by a human being in order to care. 

I haven’t had any too-good-to-be-true offers of brand strategy work yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long.
 

The brand pecking order

 

Photo by Sid Balachandran on Unsplash

If I worked for a brand, especially a stonking big global brand, I think I’d be a little choosy about whose brand ranking system I chose to hang my hat on. Of course, there are almost as many brand ranking systems as there are brands these days.

In an idle moment, I had a look at the brand hit parade of a couple of the big players in the brand ranking game. The Big Daddy (Interbrand) and relative new kid on the block Kantar (BrandZ). 

Now, both of these have a black box to calculate brand value, but from what I can tell, these are on the same principle - factor in financial value/analysis, plus the brand strength/equity and role/contribution of the brand. And Bob’s your uncle, or something.

The Top 20s look like this:

OK, at the top of the table, we’ve got AMAG, or GAMA - not “MAGA” this year (to the relief of many).

And there are one or two brand positions where the two rankers are more-or-less in agreement - Instagram, Oracle, McDonald’s, YouTube.

But then there are some huge discrepancies. Coca-Cola is No. 7 Interbrand, No. 20 Kantar. For Facebook and Nvidia, the pattern is reversed - (Facebook 19/6, Nvidia 15/5). 

And whole categories - Luxury Brands (Louis Vuitton 12 on Interbrand, 32 on Kantar), consumer electronics (Samsung 5 on Interbrand, 61 on Kantar). 

Finally, look at cars. Toyota is 6 on Interbrand, 84 on Kantar. Mercedes-Benz and BMW are 10 and 14 respectively on Interbrand but don’t even make the Top 100 in Kantar.

Perhaps there are some methodological things I’ve missed, such as eligibility criteria - quite possible.

But I wonder how much is due to the two rankers’ beliefs as to what constitutes a strong brand? Is it coincidence that Interbrand - who’ve been in this game since the last century - have more substantial legacy-type brands in the Top 20? 

Whatever the answer, it just goes to show there are many ways to value a brand.

I wonder if anyone has done a ranking of the brand rankers? 

 

RETROWURST: My finest hour? January 1994

 I’m not sure what my finest hour was in my brand and advertising career (or maybe it’s yet to come, ha, ha!). But when it comes to Market Research, which is where I started out, I think it has to be this one.

It wasn’t an hour, more like 72 of them, not to mention all the conceptualisation, preparation and follow-up. Back in January 1994, I convened the MRS course on Advertising Research. 6 speakers, and delegates from client companies, market research, advertising and media agencies. 

You can see from the biography I submitted that I wasn’t taking myself too seriously. I encouraged the other speakers to do the same:

But the subject-matter - the whys and wherefores and state of play of advertising research 32 years ago - we did take seriously. People (or their companies) were shelling out good money for this. 

I started the course with a barrage of headlines of the “Is research killing advertising?” genre. And kicked the whole thing off with the comment “We could be forgiven for thinking this is the serial killers’ convention.”

This debate, of course, is still raging (or whatever one does on LinkedIn) today, as I now suspect it was raging thirty years previous to my course, back in the 1960s. And one thing that I was careful to do in the course was to look at the various advertising research methodologies, qual and quant. When should each be used? What’s the overall objective of each? The over-riding theme of the course was that it’s not simply “advertising research” but “people’s response to advertising/ideas” research. And that creative development research, for example, is used for deeper understanding of how people respond, and why - and how it can be improved. Not evaluation.

Fast forward 32 years and the plot has been well-and-truly lost. There may well still be MRS courses, but all I see flapping around the internet are flocks of White Papers. Many of these are shrill opinion pieces, given a veneer of scientific credibility through the addition of spurious charts, graphs and data tables.

Some of them are from individuals and organisations who I’d respected up to now.

This is an extract from The Cure for Dull 

 

“Only quant can truly measure dull”. 

Well, yes, only quant can truly measure anything. The clue is in the name. 

The paper goes on to state “Quantitative emotional measurement tends to produce stronger feeling, while over-reliance on focus groups can push work toward consensus and safety.”

Where to start? Apples and pears? Chickens and eggs?

But it’s not my business to get uppity and tell today’s agency leaders what’s what. I hope instead that at least some of those course delegates still remember what they learned from us in those far-off days - and are putting it into practice or passing it on to their juniors. 

Robert, Andreas and déjà vu

 

On my way back from Canada, flying far above the endless acres of wilderness, something drew me to the film Train Dreams on the in-flight entertainment. A good choice, I think. It reminded me of the life my grandparents must have had when they emigrated to Canada in the 1930s and built up what my cousin referred to as a homestead.

But it also, strangely, reminded me somehow of home in Germany and how that all came about. Meeting my husband in an Austrian mountain hut. Gradually, it dawned on me. Train Dreams is the American cousin of A Whole Life (Ein ganzes Leben) by Robert Seethaler. 

Both are the story of one simple man’s life, with identical plot points (orphan beginnings, dangerous outdoor work, brief happiness with wife and child until disaster strikes, coming to terms - or not - with old age and the world’s progress). The overall themes of the beauty and dignity of solitude, the interaction of man and landscape are common to both. The time and feel of the settings are similar, even though the actual places are far apart.

Although Seethaler’s work came first for me (the book was published in 2015, the film followed in 2023) Denis Johnson’s novella first appeared in 2002 and was republished in a different form in 2011. So if anyone can be accused of copy-catting, it’s Seethaler and not Johnson. 

But I’m prepared to give Seethaler the benefit of the doubt. We got this frequently when I worked at the ad agency. Similar ideas would pop up all the time. Call it spirit of the age or maybe synchronicity - coincidences that seem menaingful but with no apparent causal connection. 

Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina and Effi Briest are all the same story. And, in the same way that 19th century readers had an appetite for extra-marital affairs and their consequences, perhaps 21st century readers and viewers need stories about the simple life, about our place in nature and the satisfaction of solitude. 

To me, it’s less copy-catting and more about tuning in to our collective humanity and what’s missing from our lives.

Keep your vibes to yourself!

 At the end of the 80s, I went to Acapulco. A cheap and cheerful package trip with a friend. We attended the obligatory “welcome meeting” and got talked into coughing up for a couple of excursions.

They were both a disaster. I remember a river, the banks of which were lined with rotting dead fish. I have blotted out other details.

The next week, my friend was keen to attend the welcome meeting for a second time.

Why the heck do you want to do that? Hear about the bloody picturesque white houses nestling on the clifftops again, and get roped into more rivers and dead fishes?

No, we ignore all that. We take the cocktails and listen carefully to what she told us NOT to do. 

And so it was - a fantastic second week, riding down to the Old Town in the forbidden blue (non tourist) bus, eating real Mexican food, discovering a deserted 1950s hotel possibly with the ghost of Elvis in residence, being chased down the street by Russian sailors ...

I am naturally wary of what others might think I’d enjoy on holiday. So I don’t know why I pressed the button for the AI assistant on Trip Advisor at the weekend when investigating a Greek island I haven’t visited yet. I blame a glass of wine too many.

I could hardly shut the wretched thing up. I think it had swallowed the whole of Instagram.

... nails the “holiday rhythm”, laid-back vibe, anchor pick, prime for that lively, waterfront “boats and clinkung glasses” vibe, harbor-adjacent, strong pick, that easy combo, pairs perfectly, the most “you” option ...

Almost put me off considering that island at all. It may be unspoilt in reality, but it’s definitely been a little sullied now in my perceptions by a non-sentient bot which has certainly never had a glass of Retsina, let alone one too many.

I know I should prompt these things with a bit more info, but when I said “no serious hiking”, I meant I didn’t want to walk uphill in 40°C on a goat track for 4 hours, not that more than “200m gentle level walking” is beyond me.

I think I’ll stick to my tried and trusted approach as expressed by Stefan Zweig:

All the strangeness, all the distinctiveness of a country will utterly escape you as soon as you are led and your steps are no longer guided by the real god of travellers, chance.

Or maybe ask the Trip Advisor bot where not to go and what not to do.

 

RETROWURST: In the mind of a planner (circa 2010)

 

How does a planner’s mind work?

I’ve never been a great fan of trying to map mental processes, mainly because how one person’s brain works is not necessarily helpful for the next. 

I can’t pin down when or why I would have drawn this up, but it’s definitely 21st century. 

Looking at it today, I’d say yes, it still works for me. It starts off with a sort of melting pot involving Jung’s four functions.

Then there’s that “Simplifier”. Not sure I’d call it that any more. It sounds too much like dumbing-down. And a bit patronising. Maybe “Clarifier” is better? Incidentally, I’d love to know what I meant at the time by “A4 thinking”. Obviously a buzzword that buzzed off into the great blue yonder.

Finally, there’s “Insight.” Without an “s”. Sparking Inspiration and hence Ideas and Innovation.

That’s the theory, anyway.

Quo vadis, qual?

 

“The mechanisation of qualitative research”

“The sanitisation of real human beings.”

These are a couple of pages from Wendy Gordon’s excellent Goodthinking A Guide to Qualitative Research, published in 1999. The latter section ends as follows:

We study consumer behaviour as David Attenborough studies gorilla behaviour - sometimes in hushed awe and sometimes with cruel laughter. By using the word “consumer”, we attempt to objectify human beings and persuade ourselves that we understand people as individuals, when in fact we have often drawn stereotypical and numerically based approximations.

David Attenborough is still out there studying gorilla behaviour but Wendy Gordon is sadly no longer with us. I wonder what she’d have made of qualitative research in the world of AI and synthetic respondents?

There’s certainly a lot going on in qual, which is in itself healthy. I’ve pulled out four examples of the directions various agencies and individuals are taking. What these have in common is that they’re all emphasising the uniquely human characteristics that are key to brand growth - so far, synthetic sales are not a thing, as they say.

REVOLUTION! The Billion Person Focus Group (Abi Awomosu)

From the claim upwards, outwards, downwards, everywaywards, this approach is mind-boggling however I look at it.

Abi Awomosu has worked at Meta, Uber, Apple and Co. , has written a book How not to use AI   and runs a consultancy called Data, Art and Soul. 

It’s a completely different perspective on AI, radical and dare I say it, political. Less about “extraction” (I had never thought about AI in those terms, but now I think about all that “scraping” ...) and more about listening and going where people speak unfiltered. This includes “dark data” and IRL (now there’s an idea Wendy would definitely approve of!).

This course (although it’s not really a course, more an induction into a way of thinking and working) will enable you to set up your “own OS with agents, workflows and cookbooks”. A first for me, reading through this is “digital body language” which includes "cursor hesitation" and "rage clicks”. 

DIGITAL DOPPELGANGER: Juno (Michelle Gilmore)

Juno is a little easier for me to get my head around. What Michelle Gilmore has done here is essentially created a doppelganger, encoding her craft as an experienced qualitative researcher into “Juno”, and training her to run expert interviews. So Juno doesn’t just run surveys, she carries out qualitative interviews - listens, thinks then acts. Juno “tracks emotion, detects hesitation and knows when to probe, and when to hold back. The way an expert researcher would.”

There are options for recruitment of respondents, including drawing from a global panel of 3m people. I assume none of these are synthetic ;)

Here’s an 8-minute video of how it all works.

EMPOWERING RESEARCHERS: Quallie.ai “Good work made easy"

There are undoubtably a few outfits like Quallie.ai about. This is a support system for qual researchers taking care of the “donkey work.” “Don’t let hours of qualitative research overwhelm you.”

The philosophy, is hey, let’s not pick sides, AI is here to stay. Our platform can help you speed up the process, leaving you with more time for the insight and brain work. The platform can transcribe (in 40 languages), summarise, interrogate the transcripts, organise and analyse. 

HYBRID: Source Nine

Most of the big research players have embedded AI in their products and services - and the smaller specialised qualitative agencies are doing that too. Source Nine have a product they’re calling Signal Insight - “for when you have no time or budget for full quality, and “synthetic AI” isn’t enough.”

It’s a combination of desk research, in-depths and Source Nine’s propriety tools. 

The trick here is that the AI isn’t an add-on - it’s embedded in the agency’s ethos, in this case “Building brand equity grounded in emotion.”

So there we go. There’s plenty going on. And what is cheering is that all of these, and others like them have gone beyond flogging improved efficiency. They are all looking for genuine human understanding - and I for one hope I’ll hear less disparging remarks about “focus groups” and more positive comments about the qual(ity) of market research in the future.

  

Proof of the pudding?

 

On the right side of my blog, you’ll see a couple of badges. Not unusual, as there are badges and certificates on everything these days - so many, that I expect people don’t notice them any more. 

If you press on the first of my badges, the “Contributing Thought Leader for BlogNotions” one, you’ll soon discover it’s a dead link that goes precisely nowhere. I’ve left it there as a bit of a joke. I was an official “Thought Leader” once, which I find quite preposterous. It’s kept on in the same vein as I might keep my battered British Airways gold member luggage tag on a tatty rucksack.

The second one is a bit more serious - and genuine. No “thought-leader-washing” going on here. It’s my Society of Authors members’ badge. 

And the Society of Authors have recently introduced a new scheme - and a logo/badge - to give authors support in the rising tide of AI slop.

The “Human Authored” scheme was launched in the UK this week, following the example of the US Authors Guild. Authors can register their works, and use the logo on the book itself or in publicity material. The aim is to promote all those human-author qualities - empathy, imagination, craft, care, experience and so on, giving potential readers a quality reassurance that they’re not buying AI slop.

The authors may have used AI tools to assist with writing - from spellchecks to researching and brainstorming - but not to write the book via prompts.

I’ve signed up for it, although I feel a little sad that it’s come to this. 

And, I’m not 100% convinced by the name “Human Authored”. An author is an originator and “to author” is to originate a book, poem, play, whatever it is. Can non-humans “author”? As opposed to write, or generate?

Do we need an accreditation for our humanity? Surely, to mix metaphors in an unauthorly manner, the proof of the pudding is in the reading?

How long before we hear the slightly grotesque term “human-washing”?

RETROWURST: Quaint, curious and quirky - The 101 most useful websites (from 2008)

 

Now that I’ve run out of Retrowurst articles, I’m giving a few saved pieces a last airing  before they head for their new life in the paper recycling.

Today’s gem is The 101 most useful websites from The Telegraph, compiled by David Baker in March 2008. It’s a fascinating surf (remember that?) through today’s giants in embryonic form, valiant niche oddities still battling it out and those that sank without a trace in the (ugh) “sea of sameness.”

The article is divided into sections, and here are the first three mentioned in each section.

TECHNOLOGY

Google - well, I never!

Anonymouse - here’s a distinctly retro look. Not convinced I’d try or trust it ... 

iLounge - still around but if I haven’t used it in the last 18 years, I’m not going to start now

ENTERTAINMENT

Digital Spy - keeping up with the Kardashians, I guess

BBC iPlayer - yawn

Whatsonwhen - Not On Now

ADVICE & INFO

Newsmap - shame I misssed this, but it seems to have died a death. Apparently it was some new-fangled thing called an app

The Eggcorn Database - manglings of language, and jolly fascinating, too

Arts and Letters Daily - Est. 1998 - beautifully quaint

This section has the most weird stuff - for more, see picture above.

HOUSE & HOME

Noise Mapping England - killed off by a sonic boom

Prime Location - still in its prime

Rated People - as highly rated as CheckATrade? Not sure

SOCIAL

Facebook - “The most grown-up (just) of the social-networking sites that are fast taking over the world. Excellent for staying in touch with far-flung friends, though pretty good for re-establishing contact with those you hoped you had lost.” But what about all those lovely ads? 

Wordpress - Fair enough ...

Ringsurf - Doesn’t seem to be ringing anyone’s bell today

For the rest, see the picture above. The ususal suspects conspicuous by their absence.

SHOPPING

GiftGen - can you feel sorry for a website? Gifts suggested for me were: a flower arranging experience, a Lord/Lady title, and a Goat (for 3rd world). On the other hand, it’s rather refreshing to go back to the days when cookies weren’t so smart and Gemini was just a starsign.

eBay - no surprises there

Who What Wear Daily - terminally unfashionable

TRAVEL

Sky Scanner - how long before the AI agents come calling?

The man in seat 61 - going from Station to Station, and good on him!

Walk It - limping along

In all of this, I get a wistful nostalgia for the internet of those days, before we were stalked and fed, at the mercy of algorithms. Amazon and YouTube are mentioned in the article, but only in passing, not in the hit parade.

It’s been a pleasant ramble around. A bit like finding an old high street of individual, independent shops, each with their own speciality and character.

Will I find Claude and ChatGPT quaint in ten or even five years’ time?

Play up! play up! and play the game!

 

Although no-one much reads my blog apart from a few bots, I’m eternally grateful to my younger self (OK, middle-aged, let’s face facts) for starting it up. I’ve just finished reading C. Thi Nguyen’s The Score - review further down - and can see that I’ve been Ranting about Ratings since December 2013. 

Measurement has been a frequent theme in this blog since then - here and here for example. 

And so, to The Score: How to Stop Playing Somebody Else’s Game. Here’s what I thought:

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I first came across C. Thi Nguyen’s work a couple of years back when I read his paper on “Value Capture”. This was about the tendency in today’s world to obsess about rankings and ratings, about performance and optimisation, better and best in all areas of life. This resonated with me - the idea and danger of metrics (“indicators” from an external source) becoming goals becoming personal internal values to live by.

This book expands this line of thought - and a very good one it is, too. There is so much evidence today of people losing sight of what really matters and spending energy instead on chasing easily-measured vampiric metrics. The book is full of insight - on the distinction between goal and purpose, the psychology of games in the broadest sense, the idea of outsourcing values to an istitutional metric. And the distinction between what’s easy to measure and what really matters. 

In describing metrics, Nguyen introduces “The Four Horsemen of Bureaucracy: Rules, Scale, Parts and Control.” In work situations, we’re constantly under pressure from these four to be transparent, to be clear, to KISS. But are transparency and clarity always a good thing? Nguyen shows how transparency can undermine expertise when experts feel demand to explain and justify themselves to non-experts. We cannot understand everything, so sometimes we need to put trust in the specialists. 

“Sometimes vague language is better because it expresses the truth that things are unclear or unsettled.” 

However, although there’s so much good stuff in this book, the author is an unapologetic games enthusiast. His boisterous ebullience starts charmingly enough with anecdotes about fly-fishing, yo-yos, rock-climbing and all manner of “weird sh*t” in the way of board and online games. But after a while this started to grate and even alienate me. Everything is “glorious” or “delicious."

I have never played D&D. At university there was a group who were into that but I wanted nothing to do with it - I was too busy living my life. I do have games I enjoy, and hobbies and pastimes that I’m quite wrapped in. But I know that others aren’t fascinated by my trumpet-playing or writing children’s adventures. I’ve never understood the “thrill" of watching others playing video games, or got into esports - and I loathe being bullied by family and friends into playing games that I really don’t fancy. 

Overall, there are some brilliant ideas here, but the book is repetitive and needs editing. I found it too black and white regarding the grey, life-sucking institutionalised metrics vs. the delightful, playful, individual world of games.

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I gave the book 4 stars on amazon and 3 on GoodReads (just to be perverse). As I said back then, in 2013, in remarkably few words:

I have written reviews on amazon for years, for books mostly, and I still feel uneasy about giving out stars. Quite frankly, I'd much rather just write a review of the book. But the trend is going such that the stars and ratings and averages are becoming far more important than what people actually think or feel.

It's the same in marketing. There is a growing tendency for KPIs to become goals or objectives in themselves. It becomes more important to achieve a certain score on some numerical indicator than to work out what we want to do with our brand.