Brand Affinity, Culture, and a Pickup Truck

Brand affinity is the most enduring and valuable level of customer relationship and is based on the mutual belief that the customer and the company share common values. It breeds unshakable trust in the relationship the brand and the consumer share. It is at its strongest level when a customer believes that your brand champions the values they both share. Consumers who demonstrate affinity for a brand buy more, buy more often, and complain less than all other types of consumers. And the surest way to build brand affinity is to tap into the deep, culture truths your consumers hold. As an example, let’s talk about that most iconic of American driving, the pickup truck.

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The pickup truck has become an essential part of Western culture. Trucks are the symbolic embodiment of the hard-working American spirit. Even though trucks are needed and valued for their usefulness in farming, ranching and blue collar occupations, many, if not most, truck owners do precious little in the way of physical labor – spend a few hours driving through the pricier suburbs of Houston or Denver and it becomes abundantly clear that the truck is as much a cultural statement as it is a tool. According to a study conducted by Hedges & Company, truck owners spend a considerable amount of money on customizing their trucks, with 45 percent spending at least $1,000 and 17 percent spending at least $3,000 making alterations and refinements. The most common components customized are wheels and tires (36 percent), audio and video (29 percent), exterior trim (29 percent) and exhaust systems (19 percent). The high value that pickup truck owners place on their trucks and the amount of money that they spend in aftermarket products makes sense when you consider the fact that 64 percent consider their truck as an extension of their personalities.

Seems like a pretty straightforward discussion so far, but pause for a moment and try to picture the typical pickup owner. Visions of a guy in his 20s or 30s immediately come to mind. And while that’s clearly the target audience, it also represents a marketing plateau – there’s simply a cap on how many of these people exist. So where might other opportunities lie? What potential market is being overlooked. Well, let’s try women. When I was doing fieldwork with women who owned trucks, only one of the 30 participants owned a truck as a function of her occupation. Several used it as a means of establishing a sense of identity that said to the world, “I’m not a girlie girl.” Still more used it as a way of asserting a sense of strength on the highway. Some used it as a way of maintaining a connection with their past rural (or semi-rural) lives. The point is that the truck became an extension of themselves and utility played a minor role in the underlying reasons they chose it over a car or an SUV. And interestingly, the brands they chose most often were Toyota and Ford. They were seen as either more accepting of diversity because they weren’t part of the traditional American pickup market (Toyota) or because they harkened back to a simpler time (Ford). Dodge, on the other hand, was seen as embodying masculinity to the point of misogyny and Chevy, as one consumer put it, was “a truck for boys”. Toyota and Ford pickups fit easily into their cultural identity, Dodge and Chevy did not. The result is that the women who own Toyota and Ford pickups express extreme loyalty to the brands and say they are significantly more inclined to advocate for them. Considering the economic power of women, that’s a great place to be in.

So why does it matter? It matters because it speaks to the fact that the products we own and use, whether they are thought of by their manufacturers and retailers as utilitarian or extravagances, are reinterpreted and redefined by their owners and that is a huge opportunity for marketers. The truck is a fashion piece. It’s a toy. It is a way of stating you’re part of a tribe. And just as trucks have a range of unexpected meanings, so to do laptops, beer brands, eye glasses, etc. Regardless of your product or service, understanding the cultural elements of a brand gives build stronger connection to your consumers.

 

 

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When “Bad” Interviews Go Good, Part 1

Contrary to what people say, there is rarely such a thing as a bad fieldwork experience.  I won’t say never, because they do happen. But more often than not, what the client would be inclined to look at as a bad interview, event, etc. is in fact an opportunity.  There is always a chance to learn something and things like outliers often shed light on the larger cultural patterns and lead to innovation.  Case in point, when doing work for a large brewer some time back, we were given very clear, though perhaps suspect criteria we were to recruit against.  But one participant proved that you can’t always think of your target audience in such cleanly defined terms.  In this case, it was Roberto (and yes, names have been changed to protect the innocent).

We arrived at Roberto’s Upper East Side apartment at 11:00 a.m. on a cold, bright Sunday morning ready as we would ever be to talk about beer. We had been out the night before with another participant until 4:00 a.m., touring the Washington Heights haunts and listening to the stories of old Dominican men reminiscing about the old country and young men recounting their exploits from night before.  It had been a very productive night in terms of the fieldwork, and it had been a unique pleasure to be invited into the group, not so much as an outsider but as something approaching a friend.  So, on this cold January morning, with only a few hours of sleep under my belt, I wasn’t sure what my colleague and I could expect.  We knew the basics (I had spent an hour or so on the phone with Roberto leading up to our visit), but were not sure what a late Sunday morning in a reasonably erudite section of Manhattan might tell us about domestic beer consumption.  As it turned out, it told us quite a bit.

Roberto’s apartment didn’t overlook Central Park, but the building did – clearly this 29 year old man who came from Michigan to New York only seven years prior had done well for himself.  Roberto buzzed us in and we headed up to the 18th floor.  Roberto answered the door and graciously invited us into his home.  Fieldwork begins with the subject and so our participant’s greeting moments began the analysis.  Contrary to the image he had tried to project in the initial phone call with us, Roberto was anything but “exotic” (his phrase, not mine) in appearance or bearing.  A very handsome young man of slightly above-average height, with medium-length light brown hair and blue eyes, but not someone you expected to be named “Roberto” – as it turned out, he had added the “o” to his name only several years before.  Consequently, I assumed there would be an interesting story and I was not disappointed, though the story turned out differently than I anticipated, and in an important way. Cold as it was outside, his apartment was very warm, with numerous lush plants scattered strategically about the living room. Roberto was dressed in beat-up tan shorts and a grey polo.  On the inside of his left upper arm was a tattoo of a bicycle, but done in such a way as be stylistically of a Neolithic cave drawing.  As it turned out, the tattoo, like the name were extremely important in the end.

The apartment was neither lavish nor ostentatious, but it was as large as the home of the participant the night before, an apartment that had been shared with his younger brother and mother.  This was not the home of a pauper or someone simply wanting a more status-oriented zip code.  Roberto’s tastes were minimalist in nature, but there were original works of art in the living room and two bed rooms, one of which served as an office and home studio, and the electronics he owned were very high quality.  His wine rack was well stocked and several expensive bicycles, each designed for a different environment, hung from the high ceiling in the foyer.

When we had spoken with Roberto originally, he had told us that he wasn’t currently making more than $60,000 a year and in fact, this was the case.  He had just taken a “sabbatical,” as he termed it to focus on selling his art, but was planning to return to his job in about a week.  As it turned out, at the ripe old age of 29, Roberto was pulling in a little over $600,000 a year running the interactive strategy department for a fashion designer.  The initial inclination for most market researchers would have been to stop the interview on the grounds that the participant was outside the demographic target provided by the client (which he was).  But being an ethnographer my first thought was that if a man who clearly did not need the money from participating in the study and who in every way other than income met the criteria laid out by the client was interested in inviting me into his life for a few hours, then surely there was something important to be explored here.  This isn’t to say we did not find a replacement for Roberto, we did, but also made a point of remembering we were in the exploration moment and that we had an opportunity. As it turned out, we were absolutely right.

Roberto made $600k a year and was “poor on the weekend.” He stressed how, 6 years earlier, he had lived in squalor in the Lower East Side and had often had to make the decision between two 40s or a 40 and a slice of pizza.  (If you aren’t familiar with what I mean when I say “a 40,” head to the web and get dialed in.)  I’ve said it before, but I’ll stress it again: Being a collective drink means that beer choices are shaped by season, the socio-cultural roles we assume in different contexts, identity, the invention of tradition, etc. “Identity” arises when an individual constructs and presents any one of a number of possible social identities, depending on the situation.  Roberto’s 40 was a cheap drink, yes, but it was also so much more.  But more about that in Part 2.