True story: A woman in the U.K. adopted "Harvey," a three-year-old rescue dog from a kennel. Two days later, she returned Harvey because the ginger-and-white Jack Russell terrier didn't match her curtains.
If only there had been some kind of mobile technology capable of providing would-be dog owners with adoption recommendations based on contextual information about their lifestyles, personalities, and home decorating choices.
We're quickly hurtling into a future of customized recommendations, where your mobile device can tell you what kind of wine goes best with dinner, if your friends think that jacket will look good on you, or whether your dog matches your window treatments.
However, these third-party recommendations tend to drive a wedge between you and your customers. The more you depend upon someone else's website to define you and your products, the more dependent you are on outside business models. Plus, the same tech-savvy types following a good online review or participating in a "social" group purchase are also the ones most likely to leave you for the next big thing -- or to scan the barcodes on your inventory in search of a better price online.
It's time to reassert your primary relationship with your customers. Instead of relying entirely upon a third-party site to provide recommendations for your products, ask your best customers for their perceptions. Ask them what they like and what they think other people might like. Then, use those observations to come up with in-store recommendations that speak directly to the most likely buyers.
Best of all, you don't need fancy computers or mobile phone developers to put this into practice. All you need is a set of simple paper recommendation cards, just like they use at bookstores.
Typically, bookstore recommendation cards are written by employees who fancy themselves professional book reviewers. They show off their fine aesthetic tastes and academic discernment by talking about the book's realistic dialogue, fantastic characters, or the author's unique take on the human condition.
As if that's why people buy books.
Instead of focusing on a product's features, write instead about the likely buyer, based on what the buyer actually wants. When it comes to printed books in the digital age, finding something to read takes a back seat to home decor and social signaling.
Whether you're reading a book in a public place, trying to impress a visitor to your home, or setting an example for your children, the books you own make a strong statement as to your interests and values. Buying a book also serves as a visible reminder that one intends to attain mastery of a given subject, whether it's how to cook a certain type of cuisine, how to speak a foreign language, or how to hold a conversation about a famous author or historical event.
Once you have an understanding of the likely buyer, make a recommendation card that sounds just like one of that person's friends. When a friend tells you, "You'll like this book," it's probably because he or she knows something specific about your values or interests pertaining to the book at hand.
You may not even have to write the recommendation cards yourself. At my local used bookstore (they still exist in Seattle) Mercer Street Books, the proprietor, Debbie, threw a "recommendation card party," where she asked her friends and frequent customers to write cards for a list of books that needed a bit of a boost. Used bookstores tend to have a surplus of classic literature and contemporary authors assigned in college English classes. At the end of every semester, students unload their unwanted texts into the used book market. In turn, the supply glut makes used bookstores less willing to devote shelf space to anything that was ever taught in a classroom.
Apparently, I have a knack for convincing ordinary folks that they should own books that they should have read in college, ranging from literary classics of the Middle Ages to writers from the contemporary canon, as the cards I had written at the party increased turnover on some hard-to-sell literary classics. "If you ever wonder whether you're good at anything," advised Debbie, "just remember that you're good at writing recommendation cards."
Here's my secret to writing good recommendation cards: Conjure in your head the image of a single individual who might enjoy the book. Put yourself in that person's shoes, and think of something specific that would make them want to own a physical copy of the book at hand.
To illustrate, Seattle is thick with people who design and play video games. I pictured one of these guys heading to the sci-fi section, recognizing "Dante's Inferno" as the title of a recent video game, and wanting to own it. That's why the "Dante's Inferno" recommendation card mentions video games.
Come to think of it, I might improve the card by inferring that the book contains cheat codes.
It's not always easy to find that connection with the ideal customer. That's when you have to find something universal in the story that appeals to anyone. For example, "The Letters of Abelard and Heloise" consists of letters between a monk and a nun. However, very few Seattleites have taken religious orders, and even fewer write longhand letters. Here, I reached into the backstory for a snippet that would cut right through the junk.
Sometimes, you have to think beyond the obvious. For example, consider "The Tale of Genji." Who's most likely to buy the English translation of this classic 11th-century Japanese text? Seattle has a large Japanese community, including many students of Japanese language and culture. However, the Western attraction to the culture more often than not tends toward modern interpretations of ancient Japan rather than the source materials themselves. Manga sells faster than "Genji."
I sidestepped the Japan angle and instead accentuated a surreal passage discovered by opening to a random page. I had no idea what the passage signified, but I tried to imagine the surreal life of the person who would. He lives surrounded by books, he can never find his keys, and he talks to plants -- and he wishes that just once, they would talk back.
You can take a similar approach to in-store sale promotions in businesses other than bookstores.
In a conversation with a customer, it may be tempting to jump right into sales recommendations pertaining to the person in front of you. However, you might get even more value from asking your customers about things that other people might buy. You know your inventory better than anyone, but the most insightful observations may come from the perspective of a buyer.
Whether selling cars or cameras, donuts or dogs, you might say to your favorite frequent visitors, "I'm trying to get an idea of who might be most interested in this product. What type of person do you think would go for it? Can you describe a day in the life for that person?"
Use that information to make your own recommendation cards -- and invite your customers to help!
Check out RecommendationCards.com to see how I helped Mercer Street Books increase sales for several literary classics. And if you successfully apply these techniques to your own business, whether it's a bookstore or some other point-of-sale environment, please send pictures, store descriptions, and commentary to ivan@ivantohelpyou.com, and I'll be happy to post your results to the site.
