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PAT ANSWERS. When the commercials are over, I wait a few minutes while Dr. Mullet chats in the hall with the receptionist about a popcorn taste test. He finally pulls back the curtain and sits down to his computer to ask me some questions. First question: "Which brands do you recall from the commercials?"
Well, golly gee, let me think. I was invited to this gig by Subaru, and when I arrived I found out it was called the Subaru Test. I know I saw some vague commercials about fuzzy cats and old people. "Uh, Subaru?"
The doctor looks pleased. But somehow I'm sensing he's not happy for Subaru, simply relieved that the survey will go down easy. Second question: "How did the Subaru commercial make you feel?"
QUESTIONABLE QUESTIONING. Hmmm. With my palate cleansed by a course of happy household settings, calming music, and no discernible message, that hard-rocking music video with stunt cars and extreme sports stood out a bit. I look at Dr. Mullet and suddenly find myself feeling as clinically detached as he is. It's as if I, too, am a detached observer of my animalistic consumer responses.
"I felt. Excited. Energized," I respond. Dr. Mullet, typing at the computer, appreciates the concise responses. And at that moment, I realize why marketers like me are not supposed to play this game. As Dr. Mullet asks me a string of questions testing my recall and preference, I'm analyzing the questions, as well as my responses. I know what I want Subaru to read from my survey, and I know how the questions are designed to measure response, so I start calibrating my answers to achieve a consistent profile. Is this wrong? I like Subaru, and I like these commercials. And they obviously segmented their audience well if they're showing me images of rugged athletes. But man, I start to realize, this really is a poorly implemented survey.
As the string of questions drags on, Dr Mullet gets impatient. Now, he's reading the questions as if in a hurry, and where before he had painstakingly typed every word I said, he now seems to be abbreviating. It seems to me that he's only half-reading the questions, and I kinda suspect he's typing in his own answers. Really, Scout's honor -- although, in the interest of full disclosure, I only earned one badge in the Webelos. I'm outraged. Subaru is paying good money for this.
"CARE FOR PUDDING?" I'm contemplating whether I should call Dr. Mullet's bluff on this farce of a market-research survey when he abruptly clasps his hands and says we're done. "Thank you for your time," he says, and I smile weakly. Perhaps sensing my disappointment, he smiles brightly in return and asks if I have time to try a new popcorn flavor. I don't, but I eye all the packages in the refrigerator on the way out with interest. Pudding. Fruit roll-ups -- all signs of a mall-rat demographic. Is that my family?
The receptionist breaks away from a conversation with a young woman in a mall-store uniform to cut me a check and ask if I'm interested in future surveys. Many of them pay well she assures me. Sure, why not, but somehow the excitement is gone. Is this really how the big guys are tuning their products and messages? As I'm heading out the door she calls out to Dr. Mullet, "Hey Brian, run Julie on the popcorn test, and then do the frozen dinner with her, okay?" Julie must be the control group.
Christopher Kenton is president of the marketing agency Cymbic. He can be reached at ckenton@cymbic.com
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