The whole wide world of market research began at a local zoo
Nothing is more international, or shall we say "global," than a zoo. Was Censydiam predestined to cover the world? We could not foresee it at that moment in the zoo; all we could do was hope. The Centre for Systematic Diagnostics in Marketing was indeed born in a zoo. First let us be clear about one thing: it was born on the right side of the bars.
It happened in the seventies. At that time, market research was almost exclusively done by economists and by the companies themselves. Market researchers were hardly ever mentioned. Yet, it did not keep us from having our own ideas about it.
In fact, at that time we had no more means at our disposal than the other inhabitants of the zoo: our brains. No computers, no interview rooms with two-way mirrors, not one of those gimmicks market researchers of the 21st century have at their disposal . . .
We were both students at the University of Ghent in the Faculty of Economics. We were on the right track at least.
Jan had completed his studies of Political and Social Sciences and thought that, before embarking upon diplomacy and the world, he could take in some economics. Eventually he got out into the world, but on quite a different path than he had planned. Was economics the stepping-stone after all?
Hendrik found himself in economics as a social scientist. From a technical perspective, he brought with him his knowledge of multivariate statistics. However, that was not the only thing he brought with him; from social science he also brought along a psychological approach.
And the zoo? Oh, yes. Their first assignment as the founding fathers of what was to become a small multinational corporation was the zoo of Antwerp. They looked at the zoo as a human experience and not-as had been the case until then-as an educational institution. The Antwerp zoo is still in full swing, thank you very much.
It happened in the seventies. At that time, market research was almost exclusively done by economists and by the companies themselves. Market researchers were hardly ever mentioned. Yet, it did not keep us from having our own ideas about it.
In fact, at that time we had no more means at our disposal than the other inhabitants of the zoo: our brains. No computers, no interview rooms with two-way mirrors, not one of those gimmicks market researchers of the 21st century have at their disposal . . .
We were both students at the University of Ghent in the Faculty of Economics. We were on the right track at least.
Jan had completed his studies of Political and Social Sciences and thought that, before embarking upon diplomacy and the world, he could take in some economics. Eventually he got out into the world, but on quite a different path than he had planned. Was economics the stepping-stone after all?
Hendrik found himself in economics as a social scientist. From a technical perspective, he brought with him his knowledge of multivariate statistics. However, that was not the only thing he brought with him; from social science he also brought along a psychological approach.
And the zoo? Oh, yes. Their first assignment as the founding fathers of what was to become a small multinational corporation was the zoo of Antwerp. They looked at the zoo as a human experience and not-as had been the case until then-as an educational institution. The Antwerp zoo is still in full swing, thank you very much.
Absolute beginners at the Markgravelei
A company, in this case a market research bureau, needs an address. In 1987, starting up in a garage or in a cellar was not yet the popular thing to do: market research, interviews, and group sessions cannot very well go underground, even if you want to lay bare the deepest stirrings of the consumers' souls. You need space for that, with hidden microphones-no, not hidden persuaders-and recording equipment and two-way mirrors and so forth.Speaking of two-way mirrors . . . they were one of our first orders, of course, and they were promptly delivered, but we had to pay cash for them. What were they thinking? That-in this stately residence in a quiet, fashionable street in a middle-class neighborhood-we were fixing up a brothel with conveniences for voyeurs?
Oh well, all kinds of things enter into market research, including some healthy voyeurism, but we did not have ready money. Did they look at us suspiciously through those two-way mirrors? We did not have the time to analyze that.
In those days, reports were written on a good old typewriter and nicely finished with Tippex (a.k.a. white-out)-bought by the gallon-and photocopied to smooth over little mistakes, and finally sent by fax. Those were the days!
Ah well, we should not become sentimental; we are not that old yet. In the last few years, everything technical has made tremendous strides. Sometimes we miss the Tippex and the fax that dragged along two pages at a time.
What we miss most, however, are those group sessions on Saturday nights. Did the consumers-and our researchers-see it as recreation? Should we not have interviewed consumers when they were active as consumers? At the time, everyone was still new and candid; now we must watch out for "professional" interviewees-we must screen for them like a jury for a trial in the United States. Good old days? Come on. Times are changing, and it is a good thing, too.
Telling the naked truth about consumers
The title was The Naked Consumer. It was our first publication. A manual? Yes and no. Our slogan, "We write the manuals," came only later and does not at all allude to The Naked Consumer.
The Naked Consumer is not a manual, not a guidebook to knock together a market research bureau. It was more of a creed. That was the spirit in which the book was written. A little bit overconfident maybe. We were still in our infancy. We had offices in Belgium, Holland, Germany, and outside Europe only in the United States.
It took some time to make the book ready for press. The eternal question: shall we put this in, too? The eternal answer: why not, let's do it. The result was a book of almost two hundred and fifty pages in three different fonts that was subtitled "The secret of motivational research in global marketing." To many a reader it has indeed remained a secret. We had not learned yet how to tell our story. Still, there has been a second edition. Looking back, we hope that not too many interested people have bought that other book, with a similar title, in which "naked" stood for unprotected, cornered by marketing. To those who thought that we, too, were followers of the "hidden persuaders" we make an apology; the reverse is true.
From the revised edition, only five years later, the "nakedness" had disappeared. We called it Motivational Marketing Research Revisited. We did not want to disavow our first, somewhat awkward, attempt. In the meantime, we had learned how to tell stories. Those who want to read a narrative digest of our methods please refer to the introduction, in which . . . rhinos tell our story.
Back to our roots? Back to the zoo? Ah well, did we ever wander a long way away from it?
The Naked Consumer is not a manual, not a guidebook to knock together a market research bureau. It was more of a creed. That was the spirit in which the book was written. A little bit overconfident maybe. We were still in our infancy. We had offices in Belgium, Holland, Germany, and outside Europe only in the United States. It took some time to make the book ready for press. The eternal question: shall we put this in, too? The eternal answer: why not, let's do it. The result was a book of almost two hundred and fifty pages in three different fonts that was subtitled "The secret of motivational research in global marketing." To many a reader it has indeed remained a secret. We had not learned yet how to tell our story. Still, there has been a second edition. Looking back, we hope that not too many interested people have bought that other book, with a similar title, in which "naked" stood for unprotected, cornered by marketing. To those who thought that we, too, were followers of the "hidden persuaders" we make an apology; the reverse is true.
From the revised edition, only five years later, the "nakedness" had disappeared. We called it Motivational Marketing Research Revisited. We did not want to disavow our first, somewhat awkward, attempt. In the meantime, we had learned how to tell stories. Those who want to read a narrative digest of our methods please refer to the introduction, in which . . . rhinos tell our story.
Back to our roots? Back to the zoo? Ah well, did we ever wander a long way away from it?
The colonization of Holland, or how to smoke them out
In the meantime, Madeleine had come and joined the founding fathers, or should we say the pilgrim fathers? Madeleine-originally a psychologist who obtained a special master's degree of marketing at the same university where we studied (meanwhile Hendrik had himself become a professor there)-had indeed been sent out to convert Holland to the true marketing creed.
It all began in a small flat above a cigar store such as you can find in Holland and nowhere else: a little undersized but still very self-conscious. Madeleine was not undersized, but self-assured she was, from top to toe.
Our first assignment in Holland came from . . . a cigar maker.
For group sessions with cigar-smoking gentlemen, Leo Burnett put his boardroom at our disposal. A boardroom that was-only the devil knows why, and of course Leo Burnett, too-fitted with a two-way mirror. From behind that, Hendrik and the client could follow everything. Jan was operating, together with Madeleine, in the boardroom.
You should know that our idea of a group interview, even of cigar-smoking gentlemen, has nothing to do with an informal chat around a boardroom table. Madeleine had the table completely taken apart and carried off: the cigar-smoking gentlemen had to sit on the ground. Very informal, too, or not? It caused quite a stir!
Coziness may be a keyword around which Dutch society evolves, but the gentlemen certainly did not find it cozy at all and certainly not funny.
In no time, Madeleine-who does not smoke cigars (or anything else for that matter)-succeeded in reconciling those stiff gentlemen with the yoga sit and even more. After less than a half hour, the distinguished gentlemen were lying on their stomachs and happily making collages and drawings.
Hendrik has never given away how the client reacted, but to this day, the sales figures of the cigars in question have not dropped.
It all began in a small flat above a cigar store such as you can find in Holland and nowhere else: a little undersized but still very self-conscious. Madeleine was not undersized, but self-assured she was, from top to toe.
Our first assignment in Holland came from . . . a cigar maker.
For group sessions with cigar-smoking gentlemen, Leo Burnett put his boardroom at our disposal. A boardroom that was-only the devil knows why, and of course Leo Burnett, too-fitted with a two-way mirror. From behind that, Hendrik and the client could follow everything. Jan was operating, together with Madeleine, in the boardroom.
You should know that our idea of a group interview, even of cigar-smoking gentlemen, has nothing to do with an informal chat around a boardroom table. Madeleine had the table completely taken apart and carried off: the cigar-smoking gentlemen had to sit on the ground. Very informal, too, or not? It caused quite a stir!
Coziness may be a keyword around which Dutch society evolves, but the gentlemen certainly did not find it cozy at all and certainly not funny.In no time, Madeleine-who does not smoke cigars (or anything else for that matter)-succeeded in reconciling those stiff gentlemen with the yoga sit and even more. After less than a half hour, the distinguished gentlemen were lying on their stomachs and happily making collages and drawings.
Hendrik has never given away how the client reacted, but to this day, the sales figures of the cigars in question have not dropped.