An eye-grabbing advertisement, a catchy slogan, an infectious jingle? Or do our buying decisions take place below the surface, so deep within our subconscious minds that we're barely aware of them? Un anuncio cautivador, un eslogan llamativo, un jingle pegadizo Buyology by Martin Lindstrom Summary. In short, the author concludes, the results demonstrated that we have no memory of brands that don't play an integral part in the storyline of a program.
With simple advertising or placement, they become white noise, easily, instantaneously forgotten. For product placement to work, it has to be a lot slyer and more sophisticated than placing a collection of random products on screen. And therein lays Ford's multimillion dollar mistake. Although never formally outlawed, this technique is generally frowned upon by regulatory authorities; its effectiveness is disputed anyway.
But, in fact, subliminal advertising can embrace any form of behavior influencing that we are not consciously aware of, as in the Coca Cola exercise mentioned above.
As another example, an experiment exposing two separate groups of people to positive and negative words resulted in those seeing the positive words making greater purchases of beverages at a drinks stand. The use of covert promotion is perhaps most evident among cigarette manufacturers who use elements of their logos and brand colors, shapes, images to subconsciously influence potential users, without explicitly naming them.
In the author's experiment, smokers exposed to such non-explicit images exhibited craving activity in the brain within just five seconds. They have succeeded in bypassing government regulations by stimuli powerful enough to replace traditional advertising. This focused on the nucleus accumbens area of the brain a chain-link of Ss 6 The Business Source www. In the tests, even though most smokers had declared that they were deterred by the printed warnings, the fMRI scans showed that the nucleus accumbens actually fired up their cravings when they saw them, apparently encouraging them to light up.
This manifests itself in superstitions like knocking on wood and ritual ways of behaving during our day the way we prepare for work, gather at a table for meals, and prepare for our leisure time or going to bed. Smart companies can exploit this behavior by inventing or reinforcing rituals that actually have no real meaning but strengthen brand values.
Examples would be the squeezing of a lime piece into the neck of a Corona beer bottle, which is attributed to nothing more than a bartender's novel idea, or the conversion of the lengthy process of drawing a glass of Guinness into a positive using the slogan "Worth the Wait. There is something so appealing about the sense of stability and familiarity of a particular brand that a lot of consumers have almost a religious sense of loyalty to it. They buy and use it no matter what. This prompted the author to wonder if brain activity and behaviors associated with religion, which is itself steeped in ritual, have parallels in our buying motivations and brand loyalties.
In what he describes as one of the most provocative pieces of his research, Lindstrom interviewed leaders of various religions to identify common characteristics. Then he produced a list of shared characteristics of religious groups that he says are also present in successful product and commercial enterprises. These include: A sense of belonging. We feel this when we gather to worship. Exactly the same sort of emotion is invoked when we come together for, say, a musical concert or join a diet club.
A clear vision. Just as most religions are unambiguous in their mission, so too are successful companies. Think of visionary statements that underpin Ss 7 The Business Source www. Power over enemies. A central tenet of most religious faiths, overcoming enemies in the commercial world is reflected in competitive rivalries, for example in Coke versus Pepsi. Sensory appeal, which manifests itself in the religious arena through the ambience of its churches, mosques and temples.
In the same way, products and brands evoke certain feelings and associations based on how they look, feel or smell. It's an integral part of all religions and the root of many of the rituals they use. So too, every successful brand has stories built around it, often reflected in advertising taglines that conjure them up for example "Nicked from Virgin Atlantic" on condiment canisters or "I'm not a plastic bag" on a bag that enables consumers to make a statement about themselves and their principles.
Grandeur, which is evident and celebrated in most faiths. Think of the Vatican or the Temple of the Golden Buddha as extreme examples. Then think of the extraordinary architecture of Dubai or the fabulous, themed hotels of Las Vegas as their commercial equivalents.
This, the author explains, is the power to reach out and secure new acolytes, equally present in business as it is in religions. Each treats converts in a similar way making them feel honored to be members of their fold. They are ubiquitous in religion but symbols are equally important in a brand. A symbol may be an image, an item the Lance Armstrong wristband or even a sound like the Nike "whoosh".
In religion, the unknown can be as powerful as the known. Consider the Turin Shroud or the quest for the Holy Chalice. Then recall how many products claim to use a secret formula or ingredient, or contain unintelligible, supposedly scientific formulae.
Weird product names, using letters and numbers, are another example. Lindstrom's brain scan studies showed that the most successful products are the ones that have the most in common with religion. In his experiment, images relating to spirituality or brands were flashed in front of subjects.
Strong brands those with powerful emotional attachments like Apple, Ferrari and Guinness elicited stimulation in the same area of the brain as did the images associated with religion. Tracing the use of sexually potent images in advertising, the author notes how what has been controversial in the past is later regarded as tame, as marketers continue to push the frontiers of acceptability.
However, its usage is a pretty exacting skill too overt and titillating a sexual element can actually swamp the brand message. Do you have a lucky pen you always take to important meetings at work? Do you fearfully refuse to open an umbrella indoors? Two ice-cold Coronas coming right up, along with two slices of lime. We give the limes a squeeze, then stick them inside the necks of our bottles, tip the bottles upside down until the bubbles begin to get that nice fizz, and take a sip.
But first, let me pester you with a multiple choice question. The Corona beer-and-lime ritual we just performed—any idea how that might have come about? C The Corona-lime ritual reportedly dates back to , when on a random bet with his buddy, a bartender at an unnamed restaurant popped a lime wedge into the neck of a Corona to see if he could get other patrons to do the same.
And in fact, this simple, not-even-thirty-year-old ritual invented on a whim by a bartender during a slow night is generally credited with helping Corona overtake Heineken in the U. We take seats at the bar and order. Two Guinnesses, please. First the bartender pours the glass three-quarters full. Then we wait and wait until the foamy head settles.
Finally, once just the right amount of time has elapsed, the bartender tops it off. This all takes a couple of minutes, but neither of us minds the wait—fact is, the ritual of the slow pour is part of the pleasure of drinking a Guinness in the first place. In the time-choked culture of the early s, Guinness was facing big losses in pubs across the British Isles.
So the company decided to turn this annoyance into a virtue. Soon, a ritual was born. They make the things we buy memorable. But if such beliefs are so irrational, why do most of us act in superstitious ways every day, without even thinking about it? Natural disasters. Global warming. These are just a few of the issues that bombard us every time we turn on the TV, crack open a newspaper, or go onto the Web. In my native Denmark, men and women even talk 20 percent faster than they did ten years ago.
The more unpredictable the world becomes, the more we grope for a sense of control over our lives. And the more anxiety and uncertainty we feel, the more we adopt superstitious behavior and rituals to help shepherd us through. As Dr. During the Gulf War in , in the areas that were attacked by Scud missiles, there was a rise in superstitious belief.
But as Hood explains, even the most rational, analytically minded of us can fall prey to this kind of thinking. Hood went on to prove his point during an address at the British Association Festival of Science in Norwich. In front of a roomful of scientists, Hood held up a blue sweater and offered ten pounds to anyone who agreed to try it on.
Hands flew up all over the room. Hood then told the audience that the sweater once belonged to Fred West, a serial killer who was believed to have brutally murdered twelve young women, as well as his own wife. All but a handful of those same hands shot down. The mere suggestion that the sweater had been worn by the killer was enough to make the scientists shy away. But are superstitions and rituals necessarily bad for us? Interestingly, some rituals have actually been shown to be beneficial to our mental and physical well-being.
Preparing for battle can include everything from brushing our teeth, to taking a bath or shower, to checking our e-mail, to shaving, to scanning the headlines of the morning paper—whatever helps us feel a sense of control over whatever the upcoming day may bring.
It might be a sushi dinner with a group of friends at a familiar restaurant, or a family eating breakfast together. Our sexing up rituals involve all manners of primping and grooming, as well as asking friends for reassurance and validation—How do I look? Is this outfit all right? As the final ritual of the day, protecting yourself from the future helps us feel secure before the next day arrives and we start a new round of rituals all over again.
At lunch, you make your way to the outdoor fountain in a nearby park. You fumble around in your pants or purse for a coin, briefly make a wish—please, let me get that promotion—then toss the coin in. You walk back to the office feeling a little silly, yet more at ease.
That afternoon, the wish you made at the fountain comes true—you got the promotion you wanted. On Wednesday, you greet a friend at a Chinese restaurant, kissing her on both cheeks—a European ritual you adopted after vacationing in France. After your meal, you crack open your fortune cookie to read your fortune. Noting the date, you feel a surge of anxiety. You take a quick glance at your horoscope—nothing bad there. With Christmas approaching, you buy a tree, decorate it with lights, ornaments, and tinsel—saving the star for last—and finally tape mistletoe over all your doorways, not that you really believe anyone will angle you under a sprig for a kiss.
On Saturday, you go to a wedding. Do you really believe that knocking back a glass of Kava will ensure them a lifetime of good health and wedded bliss? Of course not. Nor is such behavior limited exclusively to American culture. Take the fear of the number thirteen, for example. In early , in response to countless customer complaints, Brussels Airlines reluctantly altered the thirteen dots in their airline logo to fourteen.
Other numbers, too, have been associated with bad luck. After two Flight s crashed, Delta and American each permanently retired the flight number. California researcher David Phillips even found that heart attacks among U.
In California, where there is a strong influence of Chinese culture, the ratio was even higher, reaching a peak of 27 percent. Kit Kats, the classic candy bar, are considered lucky, too.
Superstitions and rituals, of course, are a big part of the sporting world, too. Michael Jordan never played a game without his old Carolina Tar Heels shorts tucked underneath his yellow Chicago Bulls uniform, and former baseball star Wade Boggs refused to eat anything but chicken on game days.
He also stepped to the plate for batting practice at exactly p. In , two future Nobel Prize—winning economists, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, unsettled basketball fans across the United States when they disproved this myth, well known to both players and fans.
But when the player missed the first shot, the likelihood of making the second shot remained exactly the same. And when they scrutinized the scoring streaks and free-throw records of individual players at home games, Kahneman and Tversky concluded that none of the players were statistically any more likely to make a second shot when it followed a first good shot. If you think about it, the Olympic Games would be next to nothing if you took away its rituals.
What in the world would be left? A lot. Indeed, buying a product is more often a ritualized behavior than a conscious decision. Take skin creams. After all, most of us are creatures of habit. Consider the way we navigate a cell phone. Who wants to relearn an entirely new system? Consumers who own an Apple iPod are no doubt accustomed to its ritualized navigation; most iPod users could press Music, then Artists, followed by their favorite track in their sleep.
Why court confusion by buying an mp3 player made by Phillips or a Microsoft Zune? Food rituals, too, can be found everywhere: from how we always break the wishbone after a Thanksgiving dinner to how we like to eat our Oreo cookie.
When it comes to Oreos, there are two distinct rituals. Some people like to pry open the cookie, lick off the white frosting in between, then eat the two wafers. Others like to keep the sandwich cookie intact, and dunk the whole thing in a glass of cold milk.
Years ago, the majority of pubs in the Irish county of Tipperary lacked fridges, so consumers took it upon themselves to cool down Magners by pouring it over ice. From then on, bartenders served Magners from a large bottle into a pint glass, using lots of ice. Turns out that making the cider colder cut its sweetness and improved its taste. From then on, bartenders served Magners from a large bottle into a pint glass, using lots of ice, and a ritual was born.
This not only improved the taste of the cider, but also went so far as to redefine what consumers thought of when they thought about the brand. Take Mallomars, a chocolate biscuit coated in a layer of dark chocolate that tends to melt in hot weather.
To avoid Mallomar- meltdown, Nabisco halts production every year from April to September. At Subway sandwich franchises, sandwiches are constructed in the same order each time, so customers know precisely how to instruct the person behind the counter to make their sandwich. Cold Stone Creamery, the popular ice cream chain, has an interesting ritual—its servers treat customers to a song and dance along with their ice cream.
And speaking of food rituals, do you eat your Big Mac with two hands instead of one? Do you eat your French fries before your burger, or after, or in alternating bites? Sometimes, however, brands can have trouble moving beyond rituals. Take the ritual of drinking Bacardi with Coke with a slice of lime otherwise known as a Cuba Libre , a combination that came about in during the Spanish-American War, when American soldiers were stationed in Cuba.
The country was then the headquarters for Bacardi and when the U. But today, Bacardi finds itself a little bit trapped. There are many other ways we often can behave irrationally when it comes to products.
When I was around five years old, I contracted an extremely bizarre disease known as Schonlein-Henochs, an allergic reaction that typically follows a respiratory tract infection, symptoms of which include internal bleeding and kidney inflammation. I turned as red as a Christmas stocking. For more than a month, I was confined to a hospital bed in a sound-isolated room. It was painful to move. I was extremely sick for two years. So I would have something to do while everybody else my age was outside playing football, my parents gave me a box of Legos.
Bad move. It was the beginning of a decade-long love affair. They became my life. A year later, I entered my first big construction—a replica of a Scandinavian ferryboat—in a local Lego competition. Which was—guess what—another big box of Legos. Energized by my success, I came up with the idea of constructing my own version of Legoland. I traveled to Sweden to get a special kind of grainy rock and a special brand of foam for my mountains.
I bought my own custom-made engine to power the canal system—there was even a mini-landscape of bonsai trees. I was eleven at the time—what can I say?
When no one showed up, I was heartbroken. In the end, after lots of back and forth, I ended up renaming my version Mini-Land. The point is I know a little something about collecting, and a lot about obsession with a brand.
And in many ways, brand obsession has a lot in common with rituals and superstitious behavior—both involve habitual, repeated actions that have little or no logical basis, and both stem from the need for a sense of control in an overwhelming and complex world. Currently there are 49 million users—many of them collectors—registered on the eBay Web site. To take an extreme example, today more than twenty-two thousand different Hello Kitty products are in circulation in Asia and throughout the world, including Hello Kitty pasta, Hello Kitty condoms, Hello Kitty navel rings, and Hello Kitty tooth caps, which talk about branding actually leave behind a Hello Kitty impression on every piece of food you chew.
Less extreme cases of brand obsession typically take root in adolescence and even earlier. When we are stressed out, or when life feels random and out-of-control, we often seek out comfort in familiar products or objects. We want to have solid, consistent patterns in our lives, and in our brands. Ritual and superstition can exert a potent influence on how and what we buy. And after years of studying product rituals and their effect on branding, it struck me: might religion—which is so steeped in familiar and comforting rituals of its own—play a role in why we buy as well?
In my next experiment, I set out to discover what connection, if any, exists between religion and our buying behavior. Would certain brands provoke the same kind of emotions in us or inspire the same sense of devotion and loyalty provoked by religion? Turns out I was right. Ranging in age from twenty-three to sixty-four, the fifteen women participating in this study were members of the cloistered Carmelite order, an austere Roman Catholic sect of monastics whose roots go back to medieval times.
Overseen by Dr. Mario Beauregard and Dr. It was simply to use neuroimaging to find out more about how the brain experiences religious feelings or beliefs. Another activated area was the insula, which the scientists theorized relates to feelings associated with connections to the divine. Interestingly, the activity recorded in these scans was markedly different. As the next part of our study would show, when it comes to religion and faith, a number of integrated, interconnected brain regions work simultaneously and in tandem.
Consider the following story: One early winter afternoon in , a small, excited crowd gathered at the storage bin at Port Newark in New Jersey, awaiting the arrival of a simple container. Most of the onlookers were formally dressed in white gloves, long black coats, and wide-brimmed hats. A rabbi stood in the center of the group, while a few photographers snapped away. This was holy dirt, brought to our shores courtesy of Holy Land Earth, a Brooklyn-based company, the first business in the world to export soil directly from Israel to the United States.
But what do people want with Israeli dirt, you might be wondering? Well, as it turns out, a handful of soil from the Holy Land can add a perfect touch of the sacred to religious burials.
It can also be used to bless plants and trees, houses and buildings. Many religions consider the ground of Israel to be sacred, he explained; his company was now importing this divine soil to anyone who wanted a small piece of the Holy Land in their lives.
In fact, the soil had the official stamp of approval from Rabbi Velvel Brevda, the director of the Council of Geula in Jerusalem. Steven Friedman was hardly the first person to dabble in sacred dirt. In the late s, an Irish immigrant named Alan Jenkins spent nine years securing U. His reasoning? When the Irish came to America, they brought with them their churches, schools, and music—the only thing they had to leave behind was their soil. So, teaming up with an agricultural scientist, he doggedly petitioned both the U.
For Irish immigrants, the soil of their native land has an almost religious significance because, like many Jews, quite a few Irish immigrants pine to be buried in the soil of their homeland. Funeral directors and florists have ordered the topsoil by the ton.
Even wholesalers in China have found dirt to be a lucrative business, as Chinese customers have been seduced by the legend of Irish luck. If companies can make money off holy dirt, why not holy water?
Not to be outdone, a Florida company has just rolled out a product called Spiritual Water, which is basically purified municipal water, adorned with nearly a dozen different Christian labels. So I set out to prove it. But before I could attempt to identify the link between the two, I had to find out exactly what qualities characterize a religion in the first place.
What I discovered was that despite their differences, almost every leading religion has ten common pillars underlying its foundation: a sense of belonging, a clear vision, power over enemies, sensory appeal, storytelling, grandeur, evangelism, symbols, mystery, and rituals. And just as I suspected, these pillars happen to have a great deal in common with our most beloved brands and products. Have you ever smiled knowingly at the person on the treadmill next to you when you notice he or she is wearing the same brand of running sneakers?
This sense of belonging is a profound influence on our behavior. Think about such seemingly unrelated groups as Weight Watchers at a meeting, the fans at the Super Bowl, and the audience at a Rolling Stones concert. In fact, Whittier College professor Joseph Price, who studies parallels between the worlds of sports and religion, has likened the Super Bowl to a religious pilgrimage. Most religions also have a clear vision. And of course, most companies have unambiguous missions as well.
As such he should be above systems and structures, and not subordinate to them. Successful religions also strive to exert power over their enemies. Having an identifiable enemy gives us the chance not only to articulate and showcase our faith, but also to unite ourselves with our fellow believers. This kind of us vs. Coke vs. Verizon, Visa vs. This us-vs. Close your eyes and walk into a church, a temple, or a mosque.
Maybe a bell is sounding, or an organ is playing, or a priest or rabbi or minister is speaking. Products and brands evoke certain feelings and associations based on how they look, feel, or smell. Think of the unmistakable sound of a Nokia ring tone. Or the pristine, leathery scent of a brand new Mercedes-Benz. Or the sleek, aesthetically pleasing lines of an iPod.
Or consider Toblerone. Another integral part of religion is storytelling. Whether the New Testament, the Torah, or the Koran, every religion is built upon a heft of history and stories—hundreds and hundreds of them sometimes gruesome, sometimes miraculous, and oftentimes both. And the rituals that most religions draw upon and ask us to participate in—praying, kneeling, meditating, fasting, singing hymns, or receiving the Sacrament—are rooted in these stories upon which the faith is built.
In the same way, every successful brand has stories connected to it. Think of the small canisters of salt and pepper that you picked up the last time you flew to London on Virgin Atlantic, the ones that say Nicked from Virgin Atlantic. Sensing a story they could complete with their own meaning, consumers lined up in droves and the bags sold out almost immediately.
Most religions celebrate a sense of grandeur, as well although a few emphasize austerity. Have you ever paid a visit to the Vatican? Preserving this sense of grandeur is so important, in fact, that no building in Rome is permitted to be higher than St. Think of the splendor of the Temple of the Golden Buddha in Bangkok, adorned with a nearly eleven-foot-tall Buddha.
All marketed to stir up notions of grandeur. Certain companies and products inspire wonder just by the scope of their vision. Consider how Google Maps, with its ability to scan the landscape from Maine to Mars, has lent the company an omnipotent, omnipresent grandeur, as if they now own the maps of the skies and even outer space. What about the notion of evangelism—the power to reach out and secure new acolytes?
When Google rolled out its Gmail service, it attracted followers in a devilishly shrewd way. American Express had a similarly successful invitation-only strategy when it released its ultra-exclusive Centurion Black Card in the United States; tens of thousands of consumers called up asking to be placed on the short list.
Symbols, too, are ubiquitous in most religions. The cross. A dove. An angel. A crown of thorns. Just as religions have their icons, so, too, do products and brands.
And although, as we saw in Chapter 4, the logo is no longer as powerful as companies once believed, as the marketplace gets more and more crowded, certain simple yet powerful icons are increasingly taking hold, creating an instant global language, or shorthand. For example, every Apple icon—from the Apple logo itself, to its trash can, to the smiley face you see when you turn on the computer—is singularly associated with the company, even when it stands alone. Did you know that Apple today owns three hundred icons, and that Microsoft owns five hundred?
Symbols like these can have an extremely powerful impact on why we buy. Think about Jimmy Buffett, the singer-songwriter who, in a woefully depressed music industry, is one of the few entertainers to consistently sell out his concerts year after year—in minutes, too, thanks to his millions of fans who cheerfully refer to themselves as Parrotheads.
So what is this sixty-one-year-old tycoon selling, exactly? These symbols remind us that no matter how hectic our lives, we can all still let go, indulge our fantasies, and enjoy ourselves. It is a brand that Buffett has expanded with a chain of Margaritaville restaurants, books, and a successful satellite radio show.
In religion, the unknown can be as powerful as the known—think of how many years scholars have spent pondering the mysteries of the Bible, or the ancient Shroud of Turin, or the Holy Chalice. When it comes to brands, mystery can be just as effective in attracting our attention. Coca-Cola, for example, draws on a sense of mystery with its secret formula—a mysterious yet distinctive recipe of fruit, oils, and spices that the company keeps in a safe-deposit box inside an Atlanta bank.
The formula is so mysterious, in fact, that many schemes to obtain it have been attempted. Another story goes that when Unilever was getting ready to launch a shampoo in Asia, a mischievous employee with time on his hands wrote on the label, just for the hell of it, Contains the X9 Factor.
This last-minute addition went undetected by Unilever, and soon millions and millions of bottles of the shampoo were shipped to stores with those four words inscribed on the label.
It would have cost too much to recall all the shampoo, so Unilever simply let it be. None of the customers had any idea what the X9 Factor was, but were indignant that Unilever had dared to get rid of it.
It just goes to show that the more mystery and intrigue a brand can cultivate, the more likely it will appeal to us. Ever owned a Sony Trinitron? What the heck is a Trinitron, anyway? Patent Pending. In fact, as the results of our brain-scan study would show, the most successful products are the ones that have the most in common with religion. Take Apple, for example, one of the most popular—and profitable—brands around.
Sitting in a packed convention center in San Francisco among ten thousand cheering fans, I was surprised when Steve Jobs, the founder and CEO, ambled out onstage, wearing his usual monkish turtleneck, and announced that Apple was going to discontinue its Newton brand of handheld computers. Jobs then dramatically hurled a Newton into a garbage can a few feet away to punctuate his decision. Newton was done.
In fury and desperation, the man next to me pulled out his own Newton, threw it to the floor, and began furiously stomping on it. On the other side of me, a middle-aged man had begun to weep. Chaos was erupting in the Moscone Center! It was as though Jobs had announced that there would be no Second Coming after all.
And the results turned out to be as groundbreaking as the study itself. Try smashing a brand yourself. Hide the scrap with the polo pony on it. If you examine an individual piece, can you tell that Ralph Lauren manufactured the shirt? I doubt it. Once, when visiting a factory in China, I discovered that the factory tables were packed with one brand of clothing in the morning, another brand in the afternoon.
The only difference: the cotton logo, which, as a finishing touch, workers placed carefully on each shirt, sweater, and hoodie, creating the sole, and staggering, price differential between branded shirts and unbranded ones. Well, a few drops of Guinness are just as recognizably Guinness as a whole pint; the wheels of a Harley are as unmistakable as the bike itself; and a piece of scrap metal from a totaled Ferrari could be nothing else—thanks to its signature shade of red.
In fact, take a look at the front of your iPod right now. Do you see the Apple logo anywhere? But yet, would you ever mistake it for any other brand? I doubt that, too. I used smashable brands in this portion of the study because those are the brands that tend to be stronger and more emotionally engaging—in other words, they enjoy a passionate and loyal following. So I included Microsoft, BP, and countless other brands sharing the same profile. Why these? Well, these are all brands that I consider to provoke limited or even negative emotional engagement among consumers.
In other words, they leave most of us cold. Before our study got under way, we asked our sixty-five subjects to rate their spirituality from one to ten, with ten being the highest. Most termed their devoutness between seven and ten. After all, just like members of religions, sports fans have a strong sense of belonging, usually to a hometown or favorite team; teams have a clear mission to win ; and, of course, a strong sense of us vs.
Sports also offer a strong sensory appeal think of the smell of a fresh-mown football field on game day, or the mouthwatering aroma of stadium hot dogs, or the sound of the national anthem played before the game begins. Few things seem grander than a championship title or a medal or a trophy, and stories and myths the Curse of the Bambino, for example abound everywhere in the sports world.
So I decided to compare how the brain responded to sports icons and sporting paraphernalia, compared with how they responded to religious imagery. An eye-grabbing advertisement, a catchy slogan, an infectious jingle?
Or do our buying decisions take place below the surface, so deep within our subconscious minds that we're barely aware of them? Marketing guru Lindstrom presents the startling findings from his three-year, seven-million-dollar neuromarketing study, a cutting-edge experiment that peered inside the brains of 2, volunteers from all around the world as they encountered various ads, logos, commercials, brands, and products.
His startling results shatter much of what we have long believed about what seduces our interest and drives us to buy. Buy Ology. Get Books. How much do we know about why we buy?
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