Not a Target Market

There’s been a lot of discussion in my MBA Marketing course about how to manipulate…er…I mean “serve” consumers’ needs. It’s kind of interesting, but I’m not sure I believe in the theories being discussed. For example, one of the tenets of marketing is that a high price can be used to create the impression that a product is luxurious or of superior quality. Maybe it’s just the Scot in me, but from my point of view the fact that something costs more only implies to me that I’ll have less money left over when I buy it, nothing more.

Walking around downtown today, I started trying to put what I’d learned into action. Who, exactly, was the target market for that $200 pair of Nikes? And what was it about that product that would make anyone pay that amount of money? What need did that store on Robson, the one that sells only magnets, fill for a consumer? When I couldn’t figure it out, my wife pointed out that I wasn’t the target market, hence I couldn’t easily understand the motivation for the target market’s need for the product in question. And then I realized something.

I am no one’s target market.

That’s pretty weird. This has got to seriously piss off the marketing people. After all, I’m a 25 to 35 year old professional! I’m supposed to be a prime candidate for buying clothing, music, car, home stereo and other assorted bric-a-brac. Nothing could be further from the truth.

It’s not that I don’t buy anything, it’s just that I resist buying everything except for the essentials most of the time. I just don’t really see much purpose in a lot of the distractions that people buy, choosing instead to focus my attention on other things. I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that I’m not very representative of the general population. But am I really that abnormal?

I guess I must be, at least from marketers’ perspective.

Slag Slag Slag

Nothing like a little chat with my buddy Evan to make the work go faster:

E/. says: going to see the imax attack of the clowns tonight w/ work peeps

Brendon says: Going to dinner with mom.

E/. says: imax is a huge screen w/ surround sound

Brendon says: Mom is a caring individual who didn’t shake me to death as a child.

E/. says: “to death” being the crux of that statement

Brendon says: Uh…yes. What are you implying?

E/. says: brain go “bouncy bouncy bouncy” around in that huge cranium of yours.

E/. says: much like a hamster in a habitrol

Brendon says: As I recall, it was my father who bounced my head off a ceiling beam.

Brendon says: Then again, that could just be the brain trauma talking…

E/. says: prolly. i am sure the regular probing’s have erased all memories of that time

E/. says: slag slag slag

Brendon says: Those were *anal* alien probings, how could they mess with my head…er, wait…forget I said that…

What are friends for, eh?