If you can understand why foodies are willing to queue up for two hours to buy croissants, you will understand the powerful influence of psychology on consumer behavior.
Since its launch in Dominic Ansel Bakery in May, this "doughnut+croissant" centered on cream and coated with attractive syrup has swept Manhattan. The bakery only makes 200 to 250 croissants a day, each of which costs $5. However, according to the long queue in front of the store, the store can sell far more than that every day.
On its website, the bakery gives a "secret book" for buying croissants that everyone covets. Specifically, customers are advised to queue up two hours before the bakery opens at 8: 00, and reiterate that each customer can only buy two donuts at most and never trade with scalpers. Yes, it's the scalper: it is said that because croissants are so rare, some people queue up for resale, even for $30 each!
It sounds like croissant craze is another example of madness in new york. However, most of us have experienced the pain of long queues, just to buy new gadgets, watch the latest popular movies or wait for seats in crowded restaurants. Anyway, we keep telling ourselves that standing for an hour or more is definitely worth it.
At first glance, from the seller's point of view, queuing doesn't seem to make much sense. Dominic Ansel said that they are trying to increase the daily output of croissants, but the question is, why are there long queues? After all, a recipe is enough. In fact, standard economic theory shows that supply must meet demand. Since products are so popular, why not make it easier for people to buy them?
A few years ago, Joe Marks, then vice president of Disney Research, observed some behavior while visiting Tokyo Disneyland, so he asked himself this question. In front of a store outside the Frontierland theme area, there are long queues of tourists, some of whom have even waited for hours. Marx found that people wanted to buy a cheap leather bracelet (less than $65,438+00), which could be painted or engraved with their own names. Marx doesn't understand why this bracelet is so popular. More importantly, why don't other shops in the park sell the same bracelet? Of course, Disney can improve the tourist experience by reducing the queuing time. In Marx's view, companies should make popular products easier to buy.
Facts have proved that Marx's idea is really wrong. The tourists he observes are generally lined up with their lovers or spouses. The patience of lovers shows their firm commitment to each other, because according to Japanese tradition, exchanging leather bracelets is a symbol of intimacy. It is the queuing for bracelets that makes these products so popular. Couples line up to show other tourists how firm their commitment to each other is.
Similarly, queuing for croissants may also make the product famous. Many people are waiting in line, which sends a message that you should join the trend.
Psychologists and behavioral decision-making scientists call this kind of behavior "self-signaling", that is, making decisions that convey to ourselves how we see ourselves. Even though we tend to think that we can know ourselves accurately, we are not very clear about our preferences. In order to find this, we observe our own behavior.
In daily life, there are many opportunities for self-communication. Imagine that you are walking towards a tramp who asks you for money. You can ignore him, give him some change or buy him a cup of coffee. If you buy him coffee and he accepts it, how do you feel about yourself? Chances are you'll be proud of yourself. Buying coffee for homeless people will not completely change you, but it proves to you that you are a generous, caring and selfless person. This is a self-transmitting signal. At the same time, because actions are more powerful than words in our hearts, you are likely to believe that you are an upright person.
Let's take a look at an experiment conducted by psychologists George Quattrone and Amos TVersky at the beginning of 1980 to feel the power of self-communication again. They took the participants to the laboratory to do a research on "psychological and medical aspects of exercise". The experimenter told the participants that the purpose of the study was to "investigate the effect of rapid temperature change on heart rate after exercise". Then, participants were asked to do a simple task: put their arms in ice water until they couldn't stand it (in just a few seconds, participants would feel pain). After the task, test the pulse of the participants and let them step on the exercise bike for another minute. This is the first stage of the experiment.
In the second stage, participants did another ice-water task and then tested their pulse. The first stage determines the baseline of heart rate response to temperature change, and the second stage tests the response of heart rate to temperature change after exercise. This task mainly reflects the pulse of athletes taking a cold bath after exercising on a hot day.
Then things got interesting. After the first stage, the experimenter told some participants that pain tolerance is a sign of heart health. Participants who are aware of this will insist on soaking their arms in ice water for a longer time in the second stage. Meanwhile, other participants were told that low pain tolerance is one of the signs of health. After learning this information, in the second stage, the time for these participants to soak their arms in ice water was greatly reduced.
Obviously, participants regard the time (no matter how long) that their arms are immersed in ice water as a sign of health. This is of course meaningless. Their heart health has long been determined by fate and lifestyle. This is another example of self-communication.
We always try to understand the behavior of colleagues, bosses, lovers or peers, and the result is always in vain. But even seemingly absurd behavior, such as waiting in line for a long time in the morning to buy a croissant, as long as you think it is sending a signal to yourself, you will begin to think it is of great significance.