valuable virality.
Take Barclay Prime’s hundred-dollar cheesesteak that we talked about at
the beginning of the book. Compared with dancing babies and bottled
water, an expensive, high-end cheesesteak and an expensive, high-end steak
restaurant are clearly more related. And the item wasn’t just a stunt, it was
an actual option on Barclay’s menu. Further, it directly spoke to the
inferences the restaurant wanted consumers to make about its food: high
quality but not stuffy, lavish but creative.
Virality is most valuable when the brand or product benefit is integral to
the story. When it’s woven so deeply into the narrative that people can’t tell
the story without mentioning it.
One of my favorite examples of valuable virality comes from the
Egyptian dairy company Panda, which makes a variety of different cheese
products.
The commercials always start innocuously: workers talking about what to
have for lunch, or a hospital nurse checking in on a patient. In one spot a
father is grocery shopping with his son. “Dad, why don’t we get some
Panda cheese?” the son asks as they walk by the dairy aisle. “Enough!” the
father replies. “We have enough stuff in the cart already.”
Then the panda appears. Or rather, a man in a panda suit. There’s simply
no way to describe adequately the ludicrousness of this moment. Yes, a
giant panda is suddenly standing in the middle of a grocery store. Or in a
different commercial, an office. Or in another, a medical clinic.
In the grocery-store video, the father and son stare at the panda,
obviously dumbfounded. As a Buddy Holly tune plays, the boy and his
father look at the Panda cheese on the shelf, then back to the panda. And
back and forth again. The father gulps.
Then, pandemonium ensues (excuse the pun).
The panda slowly walks toward the shopping cart, calmly places both
hands on its sides, and flips it over.
Food flies all over the aisle—pasta, canned goods, and liquids
everywhere. The stare-down continues as the father and the panda stand on
opposite ends of the cart. A long pause ensues. Then the panda kicks the
overturned food for good measure. “Never say no to Panda,” a voice
intones as a panda hand flashes the product on the screen.
The commercial and others like it are impeccably timed and utterly
hilarious. I’ve shown them to everyone from college kids to financial
service executives and everyone laughs until their sides hurt.
But note that what makes these videos so great is not just that they’re
funny. The commercial would have been just as funny if the guy was
dressed in a chicken suit or if the tagline was, “Never say no to Jim’s used
cars.” Someone dressed in an animal suit kicking groceries is funny
regardless of which animal it is or what product it’s for.
They’re successful—and great examples of valuable virality—because
the brand is an integral part of the stories. Mentioning the panda is a natural
part of the conversation. In fact, you’d have to try pretty hard not to
mention the panda and still have the story make sense (much less get people
to understand why it’s funny). So the best part of the story and the brand
name are perfectly intertwined. That increases the chance not only that
people telling the story will talk about Panda the brand, but also that they
will remember what product the commercial is for, days or even weeks
later. Panda is part and parcel of the story. It’s an essential part of the
narrative.
The same can be said for Blendtec’s Will It Blend? campaign. It’s
impossible to tell the story of the clips where the blender tears through an
iPhone without talking about a blender. And without recognizing that the
Blendtec blender in the videos must be extremely tough—so strong that it
can blend almost anything. Which is exactly what Blendtec wants to
communicate.
—————
In trying to craft contagious content, valuable virality is critical. That
means making the idea or desired benefit a key part of the narrative. It’s like
the plot of a good detective story. Some details are critical to the narrative
and some are extraneous. Where were the different suspects at the time of
the murder? Critical. What was the detective eating for dinner while he
mulled over the details of the case? Not so important.
The same distinction can be applied to the content we’ve been
discussing. Take Ron Bensimhon’s Olympic stunt. Jumping into a pool?
Critical.
GoldenPalace.com
? Pretty much irrelevant.
The importance of these different types of details becomes even clearer
when people retell the story. Think about the story of the Trojan Horse. It
has survived for thousands of years. There is a written account of the story,
but most of the details people know come from hearing someone else talk
about it. But which details people remember and retell? It isn’t random.
Critical details stick around, while irrelevant ones drop out.
Psychologists Gordon Allport and Joseph Postman examined a similar
issue more than fifty years ago. They were keenly interested in what
happened to rumors as they spread from person to person. Did the stories
stay the same as they were transmitted or did they change? And if they
changed, were there predictable patterns in how rumors evolved?
To address this question, they had people play what most of us would
describe as a game of Telephone.
First, someone was shown a picture of a detailed situation—in one case,
a group of people on a subway car. The car appears to be an Eighth Avenue
Express and it is going past Dyckman Street. There are various
advertisements posted on the car, and five people are seated, including a
rabbi and a mother carrying her baby. But the focus of the picture is two
men having an argument. They are standing up, and one is pointing at the
other and holding a knife.
Then the game of Telephone starts. The first person (transmitter) is asked
to describe the picture to someone else (receiver), who cannot see it. The
transmitter conveys the various details as he sees fit. The transmitter then
leaves the room and a new person enters. That new person becomes the
receiver, and the original receiver becomes the transmitter, sharing what
happened in the image with the new receiver, who also hasn’t seen the
image. Then the original receiver leaves the room, a new person enters, and
the game is repeated to a fourth, fifth, and eventually sixth person. Allport
and Postman then looked at which story details persisted along the
transmission chain.
They found that the amount of information shared dropped dramatically
each time the rumor was shared. Around 70 percent of the story details
were lost in the first five to six transmissions.
But the stories didn’t just become shorter: they were also sharpened
around the main point or key details. Across dozens of transmission chains
there were common patterns. Certain details were consistently left out and
certain details were consistently retained. In the story about the subway car
the first person telling the story mentioned all the details. They talked about
how the subway car seemed to be an Eighth Avenue Express, how it was
going past Dyckman Street, and how there were a number of people on it,
two of them arguing.
But as the story was passed on down the telephone line, many of the
unimportant details got stripped out. People stopped talking about what type
of subway it was or where it was traveling and instead focused on the
argument. The fact that one person was pointing at the other and
brandishing a knife. Just as in the detective story, people mentioned the
critical details and left out the extraneous ones.
—————
If you want to craft contagious content, try to build your own Trojan
Horse. But make sure you think about valuable virality. Make sure the
information you want people to remember and transmit is critical to the
narrative. Sure, you can make your narrative funny, surprising, or
entertaining. But if people don’t connect the content back to you, it’s not
going to help you very much. Even if it goes viral.
So build a Social Currency–laden, Triggered, Emotional, Public,
Practically Valuable Trojan Horse, but don’t forget to hide your message
inside. Make sure your desired information is so embedded into the plot that
people can’t tell the story without it.
Epilogue
Ask three people where they got their last manicure, and chances are
good that at least one of them had a Vietnamese nail technician. But the
story of how it got that way might surprise you. It started with twenty
women and a set of long coral nails.
She’d been a high school teacher in her home country, but when Thuan
Le arrived at Hope Village in 1975, she had nothing but the clothes on her
back. The tent city outside Sacramento was a holding ground for
Vietnamese refugees who escaped to America after the fall of Saigon.
Teeming with new immigrants, the camp simultaneously brimmed with
hope and despair. People had come to America with dreams of a better life
for themselves and their families, but with little English knowledge, so the
possibilities were limited.
Actress Tippi Hedren, who had starred in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds,
was drawn to the refugees’ plight and would visit Hope Village every few
days. Hedren wanted to help, so she became a mentor to some of the
women. Former business owners, teachers, and government officials in
Vietnam, these industrious women were eager to get to work. Hedren was
enchanted by their stories of Vietnam. They, in turn, noticed something
about her: her beautiful nails.
The women admired Hedren’s glossy light pink fingernails, so she
brought her manicurist in once a week to give them lessons. How to trim
cuticles, wrap nails, and remove calluses. The women were quick studies
and practiced on Hedren, themselves, and anyone they could get their hands
on.
Soon a plan was hatched. Hedren got the women free classes at a nearby
beauty school. They learned how to file, paint, and trim. Then Hedren asked
around and helped Le and the other women find jobs in Santa Monica and
surrounding cities.
It was tough at first. Manicures were not yet the rage and there was lots
of competition. But Le and the other women passed their licensing exams
and started doing business. They worked hard, labored long hours, and took
the jobs no one else wanted. The women were diligent and kept at it. They
made money and worked their way up.
Seeing Le’s success, a few of her friends decided to get into the business.
They opened one of the first beauty salons owned by Vietnamese
Americans and encouraged others to do the same.
The success stories soon spread. The thousands of Vietnamese who came
to the United States looking for new possibilities heard what others were
doing, and they listened. Vietnamese nail salons started opening up all
around Sacramento. Then through the rest of California. Then the entire
country. These twenty women started the trend, but soon it had a life of its
own.
Today, 80 percent of manicurists in California are Vietnamese
Americans. Nationwide the number is greater than 40 percent.
Vietnamese nail salons became contagious.
—————
The story of Thuan, Tippi, and the spread of Vietnamese nail salons is
pretty amazing. But even more surprising is the fact that it’s not unique.
Other immigrant groups have cornered similar niches. Estimates suggest
that Cambodian Americans own approximately 80 percent of the doughnut
shops in Los Angeles, and that Koreans own 65 percent of the dry cleaners
in New York City. In the 1850s, 60 percent of the liquor stores in Boston
were run by Irishmen. In the early 1900s, Jews produced 85 percent of
men’s clothes. The list goes on.
When you think about it, these stories make a lot of sense. People move
to a new country and start looking for work. But while the immigrants may
have had various skilled jobs previously, their options in the new country
are often limited. There is a language barrier, it’s tough to transfer previous
certifications or qualifications, and they don’t have as many contacts as they
had back home. So immigrants look to their friends and acquaintances for
help.
And as with the rest of the products and ideas we’ve talked about
throughout the book, social influence and word of mouth kick in. The topic
of employment is frequent among new immigrants looking for work
(Triggers). So they look to see what jobs other recent immigrants have
taken (Public) and talk to them about the best opportunities. These more
established immigrants want to look good (Social Currency) and help others
(Practical Value) so they tell exciting (Emotion) narratives (Stories) about
others they know who have been successful.
Soon these new immigrants follow their peers and pursue the same line
of work.
—————
The story of Vietnamese manicurists, and immigrants’ choice of
occupations more generally, highlights a number of points we’ve discussed
throughout the book.
First, any product, idea, or behavior can be contagious. We’ve talked
about blenders (Will It Blend?), bars (Please Don’t Tell), and breakfast
cereals (Cheerios). “Naturally” exciting products, like discount shopping
(Rue La La) and high-end restaurants (Barclay Prime’s hundred-dollar
cheesesteak) and less traditionally buzz-worthy goods like corn (Ken
Craig’s “Clean Ears Everytime”) and online search (Google’s “Parisian
Love”). Products (iPod’s white headphones) and services (Hotmail) but also
nonprofits (Movember and Livestrong bands), health behaviors (“Man
Drinks Fat”), and whole industries (Vietnamese nail salons). Even soap
(Dove’s “Evolution”). Social influence helps all sorts of products and ideas
catch on.
Second, we saw that rather than being caused by a handful of special
“influential” people, social epidemics are driven by the products and ideas
themselves.
Sure, every great story has a hero. Tippi Hedren helped Vietnamese
women learn about manicures, and George Wright had the creative idea that
started Will It Blend? But while these individuals provided the initial spark,
they’re only one small part of the story. Describing why a small handful of
cool or connected people (so-called influentials) are not as important to
social epidemics as we might think, sociologist Duncan Watts makes a nice
comparison to forest fires. Some forest fires are bigger than others, but no
one would claim that the size of the fire depends on the exceptional nature
of the initial spark. Big forest fires aren’t caused by big sparks. Lots of
individual trees have to catch fire and carry the flames.
Contagious products and ideas are like forest fires. They can’t happen
without hundreds, if not thousands, of regular Joes and Janes passing the
product or message along.
So why did thousands of people transmit these products and ideas?
And that’s where we get to the third point: certain characteristics make
products and ideas more likely to be talked about and shared. You might
have thought it was just random why some things catch on, that certain
products and ideas just got lucky. But it’s not just luck. And it’s not a
mystery. The same key principles drive all sorts of social epidemics.
Whether it’s about getting people to save paper, see a documentary, try a
service, or vote for a candidate, there is a recipe for success. The same six
principles, or STEPPS, drive things to catch on.
Social Currency
We share things that make us look good
Triggers
Top of mind, tip of tongue
Emotion
When we care, we share
Public
Built to show, built to grow
Practical Value
News you can use
Stories
Information travels under the guise of idle chatter
So if we’re trying to make a product or idea contagious, think about how
to build in these key STEPPS.
Some of this can happen in the design of the product or idea itself. The
hundred-dollar cheesesteak was engineered to have Social Currency.
Rebecca Black’s song was frequently triggered because of its title. Susan
Boyle’s performance evoked lots of Emotion. Movember raised millions for
men’s cancer by taking a once private behavior and using moustaches to
make it Public. Ken Craig’s “Clean Ears Everytime” video is two minutes
of pure Practical Value.
But these STEPPS can also be built into messaging around a product or
idea. Blendtec’s blenders had always been powerful, but by showing that
power in a remarkable way, the Will It Blend? videos generated Social
Currency and got people buzzing. Kit Kat didn’t change its product, but by
linking it to a popular beverage (coffee), the company increased the number
of Triggers to make people think (and talk) about the candy bar. People
share Vanguard’s MoneyWhys because they provide Practical Value, but
passing them along boosts word of mouth for the company itself. People
shared Dove’s “Evolution” video because it evokes lots of Emotion, but by
embedding itself in the narrative, Dove benefits from the chatter as well.
If you want to apply this framework, here’s a checklist you can use to see
how well your product or idea is doing on the six different STEPPS.
Follow these six key STEPPS, or even just a few of them, and you can
harness social influence and word of mouth to get any product or idea to
catch on.
One last note. The best part of the STEPPS framework is that anyone can
use it. It doesn’t require a huge advertising budget, marketing genius, or
some sort of creativity gene. Yes, the viral videos and contagious content
we’ve talked about were created by particular individuals, but not all of
them were famous or could boast ten thousand followers on Twitter. They
relied on one or more of the six key STEPPS and this made their products
and ideas more contagious.
Social
Currency
Does talking about your product or idea make people look good? Can you find the inner
remarkability? Leverage game mechanics? Make people feel like insiders?
Triggers
Consider the context. What cues make people think about your product or idea? How can
you grow the habitat and make it come to mind more often?
Emotion
Focus on feelings. Does talking about your product or idea generate emotion? How can
you kindle the fire?
Public
Does your product or idea advertise itself? Can people see when others are using it? If not,
how can you make the private public? Can you create behavioral residue that sticks
around even after people use it?
Practical
Value
Does talking about your product or idea help people help others? How can you highlight
incredible value, packaging your knowledge and expertise into useful information others
will want to disseminate?
Stories
What is your Trojan Horse? Is your product or idea embedded in a broader narrative that
people want to share? Is the story not only viral, but also valuable?
Howard Wein needed a way to help a new restaurant break through the
clutter, a way to raise awareness while staying true to the Barclay Prime
brand. The hundred-dollar cheesesteak did just that. It not only provided a
remarkable (Social Currency), surprising (Emotion) narrative (Story) but
also illustrated the type of quality product that the steakhouse offered
(Practical Value). And the prevalence of cheesesteaks in Philadelphia
offered ready reminders for people to pass it on (Triggers). The hundred-
dollar cheesesteak got people talking and helped make Barclay Prime a
rousing success.
George Wright had almost no marketing budget. He needed a way to
generate buzz about a product most people wouldn’t ordinarily talk about: a
blender. By thinking about what made his product compelling and wrapping
that idea in a broader narrative, he was able to generate hundreds of
millions of views and boost sales. The Will It Blend? clips are amazing
(Emotion) and remarkable (Social Currency). But by making the product’s
benefits (Practical Value) integral to a broader narrative (Stories), the videos
provided a perfect Trojan horse to get people talking about an everyday
household appliance and make Blendtec catch on.
Regular people with regular products and ideas. But by harnessing the
psychology of word of mouth, they were able to make their products and
ideas succeed.
Throughout the book we’ve discussed cutting-edge science about how
word of mouth and social influence work. If you follow these six key
STEPPS, you can make any product or idea contagious.
Acknowledgments
Whenever I said I was writing a book, people often asked whether
anyone was helping me. While I did not have a co-author, that question was
tough to answer because this book would never have reached fruition
without countless people’s help.
First, I want to thank my various collaborators over the years. People like
Ezgi Akpinar, Eric Bradlow, Dave Balter and the team at BzzAgent,
Gráinne Fitzsimons, Raghu Iyengar, Ed Keller and the folks at Keller Fay
Group, Blake McShane, Katy Milkman, Eric Schwartz, and Morgan Ward,
without whom the papers I discussed in the book would not have been
possible. Bright students like Rebecca Greenblatt, Diana Jiang, Lauren
McDevitt, Geneva Long, Keri Taub, and Jennifer Wu helped support these
projects. Malcolm Gladwell wrote the amazing book that sent me down this
road. Anna Mastri pushed me to be a better writer, and books by Seth
Godin, Stanley Lieberson, Everett Rogers, Emanuel Rosen, Thomas
Schelling, and Jonathan Weiner inspired me to pursue this line of research.
A debt of gratitude also goes out to people like Glenn Moglen, who
introduced me to academic research; Emily Pronin, who introduced me to
social psychology; Noah Mark, who introduced me to sociology; and Lee
Ross and Itamar Simonson, who said to always shoot for big ideas. Thanks
also to all my colleagues at Wharton and Stanford and all the teachers and
staff at Montgomery Blair High School and Takoma Park Middle School
who taught me, and thousands of other lucky kids, about the wonders of
math and science.
Second, I want to thank the people who made the book itself possible.
Dan Ariely, Dan Gilbert, and Sarah Lehrer helped me understand what
writing a book really meant. Alice LaPlante sharpened the writing. Jim
Levine and all of his colleagues at Levine Greenberg Literary Agency were
guiding lights throughout the process. Jonathan Karp, Bob Bender, Tracey
Guest, Richard Rhorer, Michael Accordino, and the rest of the team at
Simon & Schuster helped form these ideas into a real book. Anthony
Cafaro, Colleen Chorak, Ken Craig, Ben Fischman, Denise Grady, Koreen
Johannessen, Scott MacEachern, Jim Meehan, Tim Piper, Ken Segall, Brian
Shebairo, Howard Wein, and George Wright took the time to share their
stories with me. Various Wharton Executive EMBA students were nice
enough to provide feedback on the draft. The UPenn lunchtime soccer crew
provided a welcome break from writing. Maria Ana brought an eagle eye to
revising. My brother, Fred, Danny, and the whole Bruno family not only
gave feedback on the drafts but reminded me why I was doing all of this in
the first place.
A few more people deserve special note. First, to Chip, who not only has
been an advisor, mentor, and friend, but has taught me most of what I know
about writing and research: I cannot thank you enough. Second, to Jordan
for sticking through the process with me and being both a thoughtful editor
and a tireless champion, depending on what was needed. Third, to my
parents, Diane Arkin and Jeffrey Berger, not only for reading and
supporting this project, but for laying the groundwork to make it all
possible. And finally, to my grandmother. For kicking off this journey and
supporting me along the way.
|