Showing posts with label crowd-sourcing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crowd-sourcing. Show all posts

Friday, March 19, 2010

My Sunday shop, statistically speaking

Last Sunday, I became the Main Grocery Buyer in our family for a day.

It's true that I spend a fair amount of my week with my head in the world of retail, but I have to admit that I rarely ever get the chance to experience a store as a happy-go-lucky, Sunday shopper.

Thinking about doing something is never quite the same as actually doing it, a point well-proven recently by a good friend who used his blog, Brand Habits, to dabble in the world of crowdsourcing with $150 of his own money – you can read about the highs and lows of that experience here.

And so it was that the whole experience was a real eye opener for me.

Quite literally, seeing as I spent most of the shopping trip feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information that was being pumped to my brain by my eyes. So much so that my brain is still compulsively processing much of the data, and every so often I feel my hand reach out in front of me to grab what it thinks is a tub of Philadelphia cream cheese or some other sundry item from a shelf in my mind's eye.

But as much as I was pretty overwhelmed, I was equally amazed by the fact that I didn't return home with a single incorrect item (although I did forget a few things and/or ran out of time as my 18-month old son ran out of patience). However, as I scoured the shelves for what looked like stuff that usually turns up in our fridge and freezer, cupboards and drawers – without a shopping list, I should add – shapes and colours were the things that invariably guided me to the right item.

In fact, those semiotic design cues are the only reason that a shopper can make it through a supermarket in anything like a reasonable amount of time – and I give my full sympathy to any label readers out there for the amount of time it must take them.

As for my trip, I was in the store for 90 minutes.

In which time, I bought 98 items.

Which means, on average, I was putting into my trolley 1 item every 60 seconds.

No wonder I was feeling overwhelmed, that's quite a workout – mentally and physically – but one that would be impossible if it weren't for the role of design.

But that's not all.

In total, my shopping came to a total of $464.96.

That's over $5 for each and every minute I spent there.

Which strikes me quite a high amount for something that is meant to be built around a low service, value model. Imagine spending $5 a minute at a cinema or restaurant, experiences where service comes at a premium. (As an aside, feel free to check out this post I wrote about Paul McCrudden and his 6 Weeks project to read an interesting take on the value of the time you spend with brands.)

For me, those two statistics say it all.

On the one hand, the supermarket shopping experience is fast and furious, a flurry of split-second decisions as you charge up and down one towering aisle after another.

On the other, it's hardly a cheap way to spend your time with a brand that typically provides barely more than a large warehouse full of commodity-priced produce – I admit that is something of an over-simplification, but you get my drift.

As I write this, both Coles and Woolworths are locked in what looks like shaping up into a mammoth battle for our time and money after years of dominance by Woolworths. What's more, the launch of Thomas Dux by Woolworths and the store renewal program at Coles are both strong signals of what's to come.

After years of stack 'em high, sell 'em cheap, they are now becoming far more interested in how we spend our time, not just our money.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

At a loss for design

The past few weeks have been a bit of a roller-coaster in the world of design – or at least in my little neck of the woods.

First, there was the design industry tying itself in knots over the new AWARD identity on Brand New.

Then, we had the crowd-sourcing debacle on Mumbrella (see the previous post – Logo lemons – for my quick, soul-cleansing rant).

And finally, the crème de la crème, the absolute sense of horror that accompanied the launch of the City of Melbourne identity on Brand New (again) and the AGDA blog.

Comment after comment has rained down as all and sundry waded into each debate with the collective fervor of a 6-year old defending his corner of the sandbox. Arms flailing amid a whirr of windmills. The expectant mob waiting with bated breath for the first sight of scarlet in a classic schoolyard fight to the end.

I would love to say that careers have been racked and ruined, egos smashed on the rocks of egalitarianism, and studios shattered by the demands of artistic integrity, but I'm afraid we have nothing more than a hurty knee. The first sign of trouble, and we have been reduced to a ranting mess. The sheer number of comments speaks not of our industry's strength under scrutiny but of its parochialism, pretension and paranoia.

For a profession supposedly steeped in creativity, conservatism and cynicism rule supreme. Just ask the guys at Wolff Olins who designed NYC or London 2012. Brilliant work that breaks the rules and sets a new standard for how we ought to be building brands. But sadly no. We would prefer to wax lyrical over the miracle that is the new Qantas logo. It's embarrassing.

In sport, whenever two sides at the pinnacle of their powers slug it out in the heat of battle, whether your side wins or loses – and please excuse the cliché – the sport itself is always the true winner.

However, when it comes to new brands and their logos, it appears that designers would much rather destroy than create.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Logo lemons

Over the past few days, one of the most infuriating debates has raged on Mumbrella.

The basic gristle is this. Whether crowd-sourcing is a credible means of designing an organisation's identity – or "brand", for the uninitiated.

On one side, we have the higher echelons of the design establishment. On the other, a pool of enthusiastic design amateurs.

Now while it is true that I belong to the former group by default, I generally tend to offer all available support to an amateur – someone who, quite literally, does something for the love of it.

That is on all occasions except for when the amateur is in fact a bald-faced entrepreneur, desperate for propaganda over passion. If someone tries to sell you an Aston Martin for an obscene fraction of the price, you can be pretty sure it's not an Aston Martin.

Check out this website for a real lemon.