No more begging for a seat at the table

By Greg Rathjen

Editor’s note: Greg Rathjen is a principal of Marketecture, an Alpharetta, Ga., research firm.

In the March 2008 issue of Quirk’s, Kieron Mathews wrote a challenging article (“Going beyond the numbers”) which called upon marketing researchers to dig beneath the data in the research they conduct to find and effectively deliver marketing insights. He argues that delivery of value-added insights is no longer an extra, but is now part of the “category dues” that any research provider must deliver to compete. Indeed, in today’s market, value-added insight “is the reason that research is commissioned.”

Mathews goes on to aver that delivering insights is not easy and that large, data-focused research firms might find doing so a challenge. The data themselves are complex and the process of discovery requires the luxury of time to explore the dead ends as well as data artists to find them - a luxury he admits many on the management side don’t understand or seem open to allowing. Even if the luxury is afforded the research, Mathews argues that the insights discovered demand even further refinements - they need to be distilled and translated so they are easily understood with “easy-to-implement actions” for those on the management side to embrace. Presentations have to be short, redundant slides have to be cut and entertainment value boosted, all in an effort to engage those in management and create the possibility that the insights will be acknowledged and appreciated, much less acted upon.

When I first read the piece I didn’t really see much to disagree with. Who doesn’t want insights and who doesn’t believe that researchers need to deliver them and deliver them well? I was a little disconcerted by his implication that every research enterprise can be fodder for a “market insight.” Sometimes a cigar and a data file are just what they are. I also kept wondering about how we are always encouraged to provide insights but rarely given much insight, to coin a phrase, on what an insight is and how to go about finding one. Mathews is right in insisting that an insight be something discovered underneath what the findings show in the data. A true insight, as a colleague of mine notes, can take many forms, from changing the marketer’s conception of the phenomena at hand to discovering how far off track the brand has gone to language that reframes how a product or service is used. Any one of these insights is a tall order and unfortunately is why their discovery is rather infrequent. And probably explains why we are always being exhorted to find them more often.

But more than this issue of what is an insight and its frequency of occurrence/ease of discovery, I kept having a nagging sense that Mathews’ points emanate from the Rodney Dangerfield side of our research psyches. For years virtually every conference on research I’ve attended (or whose brochure I have read to inspire my attending) has some kind of session about how researchers can “earn a seat at the table” and what researchers must do to get some “respect” from the really important players on the first string.

These sessions and the underlying dynamics of Mathews’ offering always seem so one-sided: focused on the failure of the researcher and research as a discipline. The burden is on the researcher to find the needs and unspoken wants of management, to collect the information cost-effectively, and deliver it in sound bites that the manager can easily and - one senses from these researcher self-improvement polemics - uncritically rely on to make decisions. They seem like a dated Dear Abby recommendation that the wife must do everything to make the husband happy and that there are few, if any, roles and responsibilities that the husband/partner is expected to bring to the relationship.

Reverse polemic

I suppose what I am building up to is my own reverse polemic: that it is time to stop being Rodney Dangerfield, time to stop being the downtrodden, overworked partner and insist that both parties respect one another and deliver a more mutually-satisfying process of collecting, disseminating and using information. Marketing research has to be “at the table” not hoping to be; marketing research needs to be on the first string; marketing research needs to be more than the “little woman” who keeps the house clean and the beds made.

Some of that requires living up to one of the assumptions Mathews has about why research is commissioned. He argues that management wants to secure value-added insights from the research it commissions. Would that that were true. It does occur, usually when management is going into a new line of business or an area that stretches their personal experience. (In this context management has no pre-existing expectations to challenge - everything is an insight.) Often, though, research is commissioned to confirm the known or to support a decision already made or as a tool to convince others in the corporate hierarchy to follow. Others use research to prove how misguided a corporate nemesis is. Others begrudgingly pay for research like they pay for accounting services - a cost of doing business that might occasionally come in handy. More often than not true hunger for value-added insights from research is the exception not the rule.

This is evidenced in the ways some management behave when called to a meeting to hear the results of a research project. Often too little time is allotted, so the presenter is rushed just to cover the basics with little time left for Q&A. Precious time is lost waiting for the heavy hitter to show up. Some come in late, some leave early. Some encourage administrative assistants to interrupt them. Some attend only to make an appearance. Some, addicted to their BlackBerry, barely look up from their mini screens. Multitasking is common. Some are simply rude and shouldn’t be there. Once the presentation is completed, the report rarely remains part of the decision process, save for a pie chart or table or two selectively available to address a limited set of issues. Rarely is the researcher brought back in to participate in deeper inquiry.

This is also evidenced in the ways some management behave when viewing focus groups. Rather than be mesmerized by the chance to see their consumers and prospects share their thoughts and feelings about their product, management too often sees being behind the focus group mirror as a time to check out, answer e-mails, surf the Web, converse with colleagues and enjoy time away from the office. They often pay attention only when their pet concept or advertising vehicle is discussed and only look for confirmation of their wisdom and not “insight” about what is driving the comments or feelings.

In both the focus group setting and in the chaotic, unfocused presentation environment, a common management complaint is “I didn’t learn anything new.” It may be true that heavy-duty bar chart PowerPoint slides might not invite new learnings. It strikes me that there is always a nugget of newness in any research presentation if paid attention to. There is danger in making the presentation too much of an entertainment, shifting the message to the messenger rather than the information at hand, or letting the entertainment give the illusion of insight when none is really there.

Do the hard work

What I sense is lacking is the commitment on management’s part to engage with the research and the researcher in an effort to critically understand and to do the hard work necessary to get to those rare gems. There seems to be an inordinate desire to get to the conclusion, to get the sound-bite takeaway that nails it. In our attention-deficit, 24-hour news world, I can understand this impulse, particularly when it applies to things on the periphery of decisions needing to be made. But if management responsible for making decisions in the very arena the research is focused on insist on bypassing the detail and only want the sound bites, it isn’t surprising that the “I didn’t learn anything new” refrain is heard as often as it is.

   If you are not a literature major I can understand the desire to read the CliffsNotes. If you plan to write literature or teach it, the CliffsNotes approach won’t cut it. Somehow that principle escapes some management folks as they CliffsNote their way through research in order to (mis)manage the brands and products under their care.

All of this is to underscore the need for the research client to be as committed as the researcher to the discovery of value-added insights. Frankly, I don’t think the researcher can really deliver “value-added” on his/her own. News and insights come in the interaction between researcher and research client, like the moment of true learning that comes when a dedicated teacher works with and inspires a dedicated and engaged student.

Dedicate their energies

I wholeheartedly agree with Mathews that researchers need to dedicate their energies beyond the numbers. But I don’t think researchers should judge their contributions, though, by how well-communicated our numbers and insights are. I think our focus should be on how well we can improve the power of management to make judgments about the relevance of and importance of facts under study and to use those facts wisely in making sound judgments. That calls for research clients who bring critical thinking to the research enterprise and bring that same critical thinking to the decision-making responsibilities that the research enterprise is aimed at informing. So instead of the research industry flagellating itself over not being insightful enough, it is justified, I think, to ask that clients rise to the demands of insight discovery by being as curious, interested and engaged as the researcher.

Mathews concludes by claiming that “insight is no longer an added-value offering but a researcher’s core product.” I agree. But those new core-product insights won’t be of much value if clients aren’t as forward-thinking and as vested in the insight discovery process as their research providers. We need a client-side Mathews to argue for a renewed client commitment to briefing the researcher better, to investing time and thought into the way the research is conducted, to challenging and questioning claims, to asking for deeper dives, to being attuned at meetings and serving as champions of respect for the researcher. If most or all of those things happened, maybe, in due course, the Rodney Dangerfield side of our psyches will disappear.

Okay, so I can dream.