This story actually starts with Consumer Reports. Every year they pick Volvo as the car of the year and I just hate them for it… hate Volvo’s… hate Consumer Reports. We live in Northern California. That means no mosquitoes so we tend to leave the back doors wide open to let the breeze in and the dogs out. Although we have no mosquitoes, we do have an occasional fly, and they invariably decide to join the action inside. That’s what I use Consumer Reports for. You can always spot the Consumer Reports on our coffee table from the fly guts embedded in the cover.
I first got upset with Consumer Reports when I read their stereo equipment reviews — my dislike goes back a looooong way. They had disqualified my favorite Marantz receiver because a child equipped with a double-jointed 18″ finger could get it in the back of the chassis and touch a 120VAC point inside the box. I threw the magazine at the dog, something he had gotten skilled at dodging. Over time I realized that whenever they reviewed equipment I knew something about, I totally disagreed with their conclusions. Why then, I asked, did I blindly accept their conclusions about dish washers, etc?
The last straw to me was the car issue. They evaluated cars on the basis of repair reports from current owners, mileage, cost, etc. The object, in their eyes, was to get the best value. That was not what I was after. Had I done the questionnaire, it would have looked something like this:
- Is the car red? - 10 points.
- Is it Italian? - 20 points.
- Is it a Ferrari? - 50 points.
- How fast is it? - 1 point for every mph over 150mph.
- Does the engine sound like a tiger having it’s paw cut off? - 20 points.
- Is it a Ferrari? - an additional 50 points.
Nowhere in my list do the words “repair record” or “mileage” appear. How do they rank styling? I want a car that supermodels like to be seen with. How can they pick the Volvo? MY REFRIGERATOR HAS MORE STYLE THAN A VOLVO!
OK, putting an end to this rant, even though I now feel much better for it, the point is knowing your customers. Consumer Reports clearly know some of theirs, but not me. Actually, I don’t want to be their customer, something I regularly point out to my wife who is in charge of this particular subscription. I bet the people at Consumer Reports would be shocked to find that not everyone shares their values. I have an image of a Ferrari pulling up in front of their building, while they evacuate everyone out the back door to be sure they’re not contaminated by its red, Italian style.
In the last post, we talked about how I moved the Zilog chip architects out of engineering and into marketing. That certainly brought a big dose of respect. These guys were big guns — maybe the biggest, baddest architects in the industry. And they now worked out of marketing. Another thing I did — tried might be a better term — was to have a monthly marketing party. Each month we’d rent a banquet room at a nearby health club that just happened to have a pretty full-featured bar and restaurant, and marketing would host a party for the company. People had gotten pretty depressed before we got there and I wanted to lighten things up a bit. I told all my marketing people to identify an engineer, focus on them, extend a personal invitation to the party, then watch for them and more or less “host” them when they showed up. It didn’t work. Oh we all had a lot of fun, and it got to be an highly anticipated monthly event, but my people didn’t understand how to work an event like this in their favor. Instead of bonding with the engineers, they spent their time huddled with each other in a way that reminded you of a Jr. High School dance.
In retrospect, what finally happened to gain the respect of the engineers should have been obvious. It’s something so obvious I have never understood why product marketing people don’t do it routinely, but I rarely see it. Here’s what happened.
We (Zilog) had been working on a new single-chip processor. These are used as controllers for all sorts of things, and it’s a little known fact that they vastly outnumber the processors the public focuses on… the ones used in PC’s. Intel single-chip processors had 64 bytes of RAM on the chip with 1,024 bytes of ROM for the program. Zilog had gone well beyond this and had 128 bytes of RAM and 2048 bytes of ROM, along with many other features. Now Zilog was working on a successor, and engineering had decided to keep the 128 bytes of RAM but increase the ROM size to 4096.
I was very skeptical. 128 bytes of RAM was not a very natural number. Although people didn’t use the term “packet” in those days, they did send data in bursts over the serial links, but those bursts tended to use 256 bytes of data. While 128 was certainly better than 64, it was not enough to conveniently handle those 256 byte packets. I thought that, since engineering had no real customer feedback they had to guess about the features, and — might as well guess something that was easy to do — had chosen to double the ROM size (which was trivial to do) instead of doubling the RAM size which was a lot harder. I pushed on this, and got no response from my own product marketing people.
“Look, go out and ASK people… do a survey… find out what they need.”
No reaction.
“Do a survey and find out how important that RAM size is. Go back to your office and draft a survey questionnaire… bring it back to me when you’re done.”
They did. It literally said, “How much RAM do you want?”
“Argggggh. You can’t do a survey like that. People will say they want a million bytes… that’s not an answer… that’s a fantasy.”
Look, I’m not a survey expert, but I’ve done enough to know a bit about them. I’ve done enough to know that if you word the questions right, you can literally get any answer you want. Being able to get any answer you want makes the survey meaningless. We’re in the middle of a presidential race, and the surveys are flying left and right. And the numbers are meaningless. Let me give you an example. Ask the question, “would you like total health care as part of your social security?” and 100% of the respondents will say yes. Ask the question, “would you be willing to pay additional taxes to gain complete health care benefits?” and the result will be close to 100% yes. Meaningless. Now try my version of the question. “Would you like total health care as part of your social security benefits? Wait, before you answer, if you say yes, you’ll have your television reception cut off… no cable, satelite, or magic waves to rabbit ears…” Health care in the left hand… Desperate Housewives in the right. I believe, that a significant percentage of the public would opt for TV as opposed to health care. Until you put a price on something, just asking if people want it, is meaningless.
I’ll give you a real-life example. Intel had run a survey of people using semiconductor memory chips. They kept adding to the survey questionnaire, using essay type questions, until it had reached four full pages. Then, realizing that no one was going to fill that form out, they decided to add an incentive. Anyone filling out the form would receive a free copy of their Memory Design Handbook. When I joined Intel, the stack of survey forms — 1500 of them — was sitting in the corner of my office. I skimmed through them. People had literally written in careful answers to all of those questions, but no one at Intel had ever read them. Because they were essay questions, they could not be tablulated by a clerk into a simple table of numbers… so no one looked at them. One of the questions naively asked, “How much would you like to pay per bit of memory?” Almost 1/3 of the respondents had carefully written in, “zero.” Doh.
After a couple of false starts and a lot of prodding, I got the survey questionnaire I was looking for. It was very simple. There were about 10 features listed, including 256 bytes of RAM and another, 4096 bytes of ROM. People were asked to just write numbers next to them to rank them in importance. There were a few other questions, but that was the main thing. We got back about 500 responses from a fairly small mailing. Total cost in those days was about $1,000.
I was there in the meeting with engineering when my product marketing manager for that line spoke. “We’ve surveyed the customers and with 500 people responding, over 70% of them want 256 bytes of RAM. Only 5% want more ROM.” He went on to list the other features that customers were looking for and how they ranked. The meeting was devastating. The chip was put on hold. A few days later, engineering came back with a new schedule, one that now had the large RAM and no change in ROM. They were happy.
What had happened here was that marketing had finally… finally done the most basic marketing function the company expects them to do. They had talked to and understood the customers. Here were the results. No more “we think…” but hard numbers… real data… not a single voice was raised to dissent. Engineering was happy because they no longer had to guess what people wanted… marketing was finally doing their job and telling them in a TIMELY and CREDIBLE way what the market was looking for. Think about the millions of dollars saved or gained by that simple $1,000 expenditure. Think of the impact a few numbers with percent signs had on the company. That was the day engineering began to really respect marketing.