Small Gifts
We are persuaded by people who like us. It is a point made early in Influence, as we round out these summary highlights of Robert Cialdini’s book. We learn in an early chapter that the Guinness Book of World Records title holder for best car salesman was a friendly man who kept a list of his customers with their mailing addresses. At regular intervals each year, he mailed them handwritten cards saying no more than “I like you” to each one—all 30,000 of them. They rewarded his efforts by buying cars from him time and again.
Unsurprisingly, we tend to want to be liked. It makes us feel better about ourselves—it makes us feel more likable. Likability is useful for a social species. And we use it as another shortcut for rating the quality of someone’s advice. After all, wouldn’t someone who likes you have your best interests at heart? It’s a good-enough heuristic for us as we try to save time and energy in making decisions.
The final influence lever here, and the first in the book, will be familiar to anyone who receives solicitations from charities by mail. It is our sense of obligation to people offering gifts. We have a socio-psychological tendency not to think of random gifts as free, but as obligating us to return the favor. On average, we are willing to exceed the original gift if asked to. A lot of charity marketing overuses this lever of influence.
In the past, charities had sent offers for free gifts such as coffee mugs or tote bags in return for donations. More recently they send gifts with the original solicitation, mailing out tote bags or greeting cards.
Once you are aware of it, you notice the play on reciprocity everywhere, from free samples at grocery stores or other retail shops to coffee and snacks in waiting rooms at car dealership maintenance departments. The effect on sales is quantifiable, but I think we are often aware of the intent behind the act. We accept the gift with the intent of the giver still in mind.
A sneakier variant of the technique is for the marketer to hook the customer with a simple gift, and then to ask a too much in return. When the recipient rejects the large request, it is reduced to something less that the recipient feels is a compromise. Cialdini gives the personal example of a salesman offering him a candy sample, and then offering to sell him a year’s supply for a rather large sum. When Cialdini rejects the first offer, the salesman offers a smaller supply, which Cialdini accepts—of a product he never intended to spend a single penny on. The salesman was a stranger to him: a boy engaged in a school project fundraiser. The boy had used the reciprocity hook to outwit the professor.
As said elsewhere this week, I think the book is useful for making us aware of the hidden forces at work in our minds that clever marketers can use to advance their own interests, sometimes to our detriment, but certainly not always. The insights can help to improve ourselves, or to recognize when someone uses the techniques to take advantage. In that case, they provide enough reason to pause before succumbing to the subtle psychological pressure behind the tactic. Awareness of the techniques can help us reclaim personal autonomy.
On a more meta level, the book succeeds because it is a global best seller written by a credentialed professor. Reviews for the book are positive. It bears several of the key traits that recommend it to us as highly believable.
I like the return address labels that some charities send me. But what I don't like is the ones that include my unit number in the address because the post office is trying to force me to use it and give it out to everyone. It is not actually necessary for delivery of mail or packages in my building's setup, as long as my name is on them, which it should always be. Only utilities need to know which unit is mine. Other than that, I prefer to have it omitted for purposes of security. Is that too much to ask? Anyway, you don't win points with me by putting that number on the labels. I'll tear them up and toss them out, so you don't get a chance to remind me of your charity when I go to get a label to put on an envelope.
Oh, another thing I don't like? When, after I send a donation to a charity, it decides that what I have done is become a "member" and then they keep sending me solicitations to "renew" my so-called "membership." It's almost like you're relying on me to look at it as fulfilling some financial obligation like paying a bill, when you should be motivating me by painting me a picture of my money being used to do good. My first rule for charities is that you'd better respect my prerogative to define what the relationship is. I don't care what all the other charities do or what your marketing professor told you--if you want my money then you honor my preference.
Good morning!
*checks watch* narrowly, but still “good morning.”