Consumer Behaviour

One of the advantages of understanding how the process of asking people questions influences them is that you can have fun demonstrating its impact.

I was recently invited to speak to a local business group and took the opportunity to demonstrate the frailty of asking questions and the nature of the unconscious mind.

Whilst the samples were too small to be scientifically valid, the differences in responses to my fake research were both predictable and entertaining.

I set up a taste test using three very similar products: one was from a value range, one from the ‘standard’ range and one the premium offer.  Everyone was led to believe that they were taking part in legitimate market research and that they all had the same questions.

In fact there were five different questionnaires, all asking the participants to taste three products and answer some questions.

What was I able to demonstrate?

1. People will express a preference when given identical products to rate.
2. People’s taste preferences are influenced by branding.
3. People have no clue how much most products normally cost.
4. When asked to analyse aspects of a product (like sweetness and texture) people reach a different conclusion about which product is best (compared to when asked simply to select a favourite).

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, market research market research

It’s always interesting to see what ideas a web giant like Amazon is evaluating, particularly when the change is more than just a subtle adjustment.

At present they’re trying out a very different home page.

One thing Amazon does that is super-smart is split test.  They don’t rely on the vague irrelevancies of what customers tell them in market research to decide whether a change is worth making: they send customers to the new look at random and check to see what the impact is on behaviour (and particularly on conversion).  This means the evaluation isn’t done as an artificial conscious exercise, people don’t know they’re taking part in research: as a result the unconscious drivers of consumer actions are still ‘in-play’ and the artificial influence that comes from asking questions isn’t an issue.

From this perspective it doesn’t really matter what I or anyone else thinks when they evaluate the new design.  You may love its clean look, the absence of clutter, the way it works properly in a wide screen format, enjoy accessing menus when you choose (rather than having them forced on you)… but if you end up not searching so effectively or not clicking on the day’s promotions, Amazon will quietly revert to a more profitable previous look and go back to the drawing board.

Tiny changes can have a big impact on conversion.  In Consumer.ology I recount a number of examples where changing a photograph, moving a logo or reducing the number of items returned from a search all increased conversion significantly.  Whilst as a consumer psychologist I can help identify what might work, and can speculate on what has made a change effective by explaining how it has connected with unconscious drivers of behaviour, it’s only through carefully conducted experiments that we can know for sure what the outcome of a change will be.

Fortunately, split testing is relatively straight-forward on-line, it’s actually reasonably straight-forward in most consumer scenarios, given a little thought: and it’s an investment that is well-worth making because what you get is genuine learning.  If you apply the AFECT criteria for psychological confidence, you will realise why you can trust the results of such a test far more than anything from a survey or focus group.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, market research Amazon, design, website

I honestly believed that I would stick with PC based computing.  After twenty years using PCs they’re more familiar than my wife and kids!

Despite all the positive things friends have said about Macs, and even though I have owned an iPhone for the last couple of years, there were good reasons not to change.  PCs have always worked well for me and, on the occasions when I have used Macs, I’ve always found them uncomfortably unfamiliar.

If nothing else, we humans are creatures of habit: it takes quite a shove to push us out of our comfort zone and into unchartered territory.  For me and PCs that shove was Dell.

I enjoy observing my own consumer decision-making and, although I know that much of the action takes place outside of my conscious awareness, my work on the consumer unconscious mind gives me a dual perspective for my own consumer behaviour.

I’ve owned several Dells, you could have called me brand loyal.

When my Dell XPS 420 greeted me with news of a critical drive failure (Windows Recovery did nothing of the sort) my immediate reaction on being told to replace it was to go to Dell.

Within half an hour I had found a specification that worked for me and ordered a laptop.

So, despite the trauma of a crashed computer, I still went back to the company I knew and that had worked for me in the past: call it the “better the devil you know” heuristic.

However, I discovered, after a fairly painful on-line ordering process, that somehow my billing address had been entered into my account, but that my old address – one that I haven’t lived at for four years – was still recorded as the delivery address.

Unperturbed, I immediately called Dell to ask them to correct the address.  To my astonishment this was not possible.

My bank had verified the payment, but Dell’s own systems had held the order up because the delivery address didn’t match the card address (the whole reason for my call and a helpful safeguard against fraud).

However, apparently this couldn’t be corrected with a few key strokes and would take 3-5 days.  This despite the fact that the address I wanted the item sent to was the only one that would have passed their internal fraud checks – the one that matched the card I’d paid with.

Staggered that a computing company could have such cumbersome systems I asked to speak to the department concerned.  I was told that communication with them was only by email.

Frustrated, I asked them to cancel the order.  Rightly or wrongly, my intention at this point was still to order another computer from Dell after updating my address details.

I was told that I couldn’t get confirmation of my order being cancelled for 24 hours – it might not be possible to cancel it. Both the operator and I knew that the order hadn’t been despatched, it was just sitting there because of the erroneous address.  And yet, it couldn’t be cancelled!  (I should add that this wasn’t for a ‘made-to-order’ machine.)

This was the final straw.  I decided that to continue a consumer relationship with a company whose systems were so fundamentally consumer unfriendly was asking for trouble: heaven help me if I had a problem with the new computer.

A visit to the local stores involved the anticipated issue of computer staff who knew less about the products than me (and I don’t know much).  Enquiring about Sony’s power-save feature, which offered the potential of squeezing out more than the pathetic two hours of battery life from their top of the line machine, resulted the ‘revelation’ that it used less power and meant that the laptop battery would last a lot longer if you weren’t using it.

I wandered over to the Apple display, to consider if I could make the switch.  There was a lot to consider: running Microsoft products on a Mac, transferring my old PC files, even running software not designed for Macs.

When I heard a voice ask if I needed help I was ready to say “No thanks” until I glanced up and saw that the person was dressed differently from the rest of the salespeople I’d encountered.  He was wearing a black t-shirt with a white Apple logo.

My heart leapt.

Or rather my unconscious mind fired off a set of associations; all the brand values and social proof about Apple that have permeated through to my unconscious were fired up, along with the creative values that have been shown to be stimulated by (unconscious) exposure to the Apple brand.

“Yes,” I found myself saying, “you probably can help.”

Half an hour later every question I’d had had been answered.

The contrast between the Apple staff and the Dell phone experience could not have been more marked.  Similarly, the contrast between the useless store staff and the ‘branded’ Apple employee was enormous.

Apple was already delivering a nicer life (and I hadn’t bought the MacBook yet).

Being a great brand isn’t (conceptually) hard.  It requires just two things.  An attractive concept and congruent delivery.  Apple get top marks for delivering both.

I don’t intend to become an Apple evangelist: I think my brother is doing enough of that for the UK population, but I can’t hide my admiration for their products and services.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, Customer Service Apple, consumer behaviour, Customer Service, Dell

Every now and then I receive an invitation to complete an on-line survey.  They’re normally hopelessly poor tools at understanding real consumer motivations.  They interrogate the wrong part of the respondent’s mind (the conscious mind) and unwittingly influence the part they should be targeting (the unconscious mind).

So today, I thought that, as I plod through the survey, I would include a running commentary of what’s bad, just in case anyone else is thinking of running an on-line survey any time soon. 

The First Few Questions
A few classification questions to see where I live, when I was born, to check that I watch television (the subject of the research) and to check that I’m not involved in marketing, market research, journalism, advertising, public relations or television: arguably I’m involved in all of these but, just like any other respondent, I’ll be ticking the answers that suit my purpose: “None of these”.

Questions
The first proper question asks me what channels I can name, other than the five original terrestrial channels.  This awareness question has evidently been written without any awareness that memory is context-based.  Sitting in front of my computer I may recall one set of channels, but when it comes to watching a programme I will select in a completely different environment and mindset.  Has anyone correlated top of mind channel awareness with anything?  What, you many well ask, will this question prove?  I suspect that a TV channel has been advertising itself and thinks that unprompted awareness is a good measure of their advertising impact; I’m betting they can’t substantiate a link between the two.

I’m now presented with ten channels and asked to say how often I watch it, of if I never watch it, if I’ve heard of it.  My options are “most days”, “at least once a week”, and so on.    I select a programme by the programme’s title, I don’t always know which channel I’m watching.  Fortunately, the television companies have tracking data from boxes that actually monitor what a sample of UK viewers watch: why, you may well ask, are they inviting in this meaningless self-reported data?  Presumably it will drive questions later in the survey, but since I suspect I don’t know which channels I watch when I flick through, this isn’t going to be very accurate.

I’ve just seen I have to do this for sixty programmes; who would volunteer for this kind of pain normally?

Now I’m invited to say “how I feel about each of these channels” ranging from a “channel I love” to “no strong feelings”.  So I will rationalise my feelings about a channel.  What, you may ask, would it say if I watched a channel a lot that I didn’t love?  Or if I love a channel but don’t watch it often?  There is an implicit assumption in the questionnaire – in my case one that is misfounded – that I know what I’m watching and can match my viewing to a channel. 

Oh Dear
I realise this might seem like a writer’s licence, but I have actually been going through and documenting my thoughts step by step.  Having reached this question about “channels that I love”, the on-line survey has broken.  I’ve tried two browsers and several refreshes, but the page doesn’t work.  The table of pre-coded responses and channels has disappeared.  Nothing I click helps.  Going forwards delivers a warning that I need to give my answers, but I can’t because it won’t let me.

So, regrettebly, I can’t get to the heart of the survey.

But already I know that no one should attach much significance to this survey’s results.  At it’s heart is a fundamental assumption that people link their viewing to the channel they are watching.  A lot of TV viewing is done in a very ‘withdrawn’ mental state.  We let a familiar programme wash over us like a sort of brain support system: there’s processing going on, but it requires no effort or involvement from us.

Ask yourself this: what did you watch on television the night before last?  The chances are that, unless it was a significant sporting event or a film that you had actively selected, you won’t remember the titles of the programmes, never mind the channels.

I’ve been commissioned to study viewing behaviour and programme selection behaviour in the past, and neither has very much to do with the conscious mind. 

As always with poor market research, the waste in terms of the money spent on the survey is probably minor in comparison with the cost associated with making the wrong decision and not acquiring

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, market research commissioning, market research, on-line survey

With levels of obesity increasing, efforts are being made in several of the countries affected to find a way of getting overweight people to stop cramming high calorie food into their mouths on a regular basis.

Diet is a fascinating area, since it’s one in which many people have first hand experience of what I call “the Mind Gap” – the space that exists between the unconscious and conscious mind.  In this case it’s experienced when people make firm commitments to lose weight, commitments that they have with complete (conscious) conviction at the time, then find that after an initial period of success their weight returns to its previous level. 

Sometimes they ascribe their return to greater mass to mystic forces or an underlying medical condition, but more often they realise that they’ve not been sticking to the good intentions they made and, in a distracted moment, have taken it upon themselves to feast on cream cakes and pies in the way that, now they think about it, they pretty much always have.

Nevertheless, this greater opportunity for awareness of “the mind gap”, and the fact that it is frequently the unconscious mind that decides what we push into our mouths, doesn’t always stop regulators and legislators from implementing optimistic appeals to the conscious mind.

Just over a year ago new legislation was passed in a Washington county, that required fast food outlets to display calorie information for their products at the point of purchase. 

The result? Nothing changed.  Comparing the average calorie intake in a store that was forced to display the information with others in different regions that were not showed that the total number of sales and average calories per transaction were exactly the same.  Displaying the infomration made no difference to what people ate.

I imagine that the people behind the legislation will be disappointed, but they shouldn’t be.  Provided that the opportunity is taken to learn and understand why people were unaffected by the additional information, future policy has the chance to be much more effective.

The challenge for legislators, marketing people and everyone else, is to recognise how widespread this phenomenon is: we can appeal to people’s conscious minds all we like.  In the end what matters is what’s happening on the other side of “the mind gap”.

Philip Graves

Source: Mandatory Menu Labelling in One Fast-Food Chain in King County, Washington; Finkelstein et al, American Journal of Preventative Medicine, Vol 40, Issue 2, February 2011

Philip Graves behavioural insight, consumer behaviour diet

In the run up to December 25th I received several requests from broadcasters to talk about Christmas, how much we spend and whether the “true meaning” gets lost in this consumer age of ours.

I was happy to contribute to the debate and add my point of view.

But the best time to analyse Christmas and its meaning is now, a few days after the event – or depending on how you look at it – still in the middle of it.  Rather than muddle matters with our self-perceptions and idealisations, look back at our Christmas behaviour and see what happened.

I believe that, here in the UK, the following generalisations will apply to most people – I could be wrong, this is a blog after all, not a piece of formal research:

• People get together with family and friends far more frequently and for longer than at other times of the year.
• People exchange gifts.
• People massively over-indulge (on food, drink and sometimes gifts).

And I suspect that you would also find with reasonable frequency…

• Some people get together with family members and argue.
• Some people get into debt.
• Some people go to church (and sometimes for the only time in the year).

These, it appears to me, are the things we do.  But what does it all mean and what’s the “true meaning?”

I think the whole “nativity” business can be put to one side.  In terms of human history, it’s a relatively recent traditional take on a winter feast that has been going on for much, much longer (under various religious or quasi-religious brands).  Arguably more recent debates about what is or isn’t associated with the occasion, such as the Peep Show’s “Cauliflower is NOT a Christmas tradition” are no less justifiable: each of us has our own sense of what makes the moment what it is.

It is interesting to me that some people, fortunately not me, accept family squabbling as an inevitable consequence of Christmas: they know it’s going to happen but still they forge ahead and accept it as though it is no less inevitable than hearing Slade’s Merry Christmas whilst shopping in early October.

It would appear that, for thousands of years, we have felt a need to get together in the midst of winter and indulge.  In modern-day consumer society, when going shopping can be a recreational pursuit and food is in plentiful supply all year round, it’s perhaps not surprising that consumerism reaches a frenzy.  This is the indulgence we appear to crave and we will tolerate the arguments and cantankerous relatives to get it.

The middle of Winter can be a gloomy time (in the Northern hemisphere beyond a certain latitude) and, it strikes me, that big festive occasion we currently call Christmas is a shining beacon that drags us past the shortest dark days and towards Spring. 

Therein rests, for me, the true meaning of Christmas; it’s a psychological pick me up that keeps us going.  A legacy of an age when it was needed far more than it is now (for most), but that still plays an important role in our relationship with the seasons.

All of which makes me wonder just what those people in the Southern hemisphere or closer to the equator are getting caught up in?  The answer, I suspect, can be found in this song by the incalculably brilliant Tim Minchin…

I’m not against consumerism.  Aside from providing a basis for my work, I see it as a natural phenomenon rather than something has been created maliciously.  But I do wonder if our mid-Winter celebration might transition into something else?  If so, I suspect that, given the nature of communication these days, it will be fragmentation rather than total revision to one new expression. 

My vote goes for Tim’s notion (without the sun, obviously), but so long as we all respect everyone’s right to do what they feel works for them we should all be fine.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour meaning of Christmas

I once had a conversation with the Marketing Director of a brand that is a household name in which he suggested that no products had updated their brand identities.  We were having the conversation because his main brand was so tired that sales were in decline and customers didn’t see its packs on the shelves of their supermarkets: it looked exactly the same as it had a decade earlier (and it was hardly the most relevant product back then).

When I used Skoda as an example, he moved the goal posts to FMCG products. 

Then when I referenced other FMCG products that had dramatically redesigned their brand without disaster he argued that these weren’t in the same category as his product.

So his point was, that since none of his competitors had successfully updated their brand identity, he shouldn’t be the first one to risk it.

Except, of course, all of his competitors were either so new they hadn’t reached the point of needing a freshen up, or else they had updated their brand, he just hadn’t noticed.

It must be said, this manager was one of the most risk averse people I’ve ever met: it was a surprise that he took a chance of putting his feet in socks each day – who knows what could have been lurking inside them!

One of the best examples of rebranding is the British Royal Family (granted they aren’t a fast moving consumer good).  Before 1917 the royal family was a branch of the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.  However, by that point in World War I associations with Germany weren’t desperately popular.  Matters were hardly improved when the German’s starting dropping bombs from their Gotha G.IV on England.

George V (or his advisers) decided a rebranding and repositioning job was called for.

It was decided, presumably without the need for a million pounds of design consultancy and consumer testing, that the rather more quaintly English ‘Windsor’ would do a better job of endearing the monarchy to the masses.

Crucially, this wasn’t just a case of calling the same snack by a new name and hoping people would accept it.  Yes, pretty much everything remained as it had been before. However, there were some important tweaks that, given that the broad support for the monarchy hadn’t yet been entirely eroded, were sufficient to edge things back in their favour for the next century or so.

He changed the rules about marriage; it was now possible for members of the British royal family to marry British people. 

The King also allied the monarchy to the emerging social forces: the honours system was changed and anyone in the country could receive an OBE (Order of the British Empire) award if it was felt they went beyond the ordinary: this included trades unionists and people who did voluntary work.  Now the monarchy wasn’t the enemy of “the people”.

One less fortunate change came when the Russian Tsar, a cousin of George V, turned to him for help when the Russian revolution took hold.  The King, fearing he would be seen as putting other nation’s interests above those of the British, refused to provide him with a safe haven: the Tsar of course was executed by the revolutionaries.

I think there are good lessons to learn from this event about the nature of rebranding and human (or consumer) psychology:

• If you want people to perceive your brand differently, you need to do more than just change the name – but changing the name gives you a chance both to create new associations and to harness those that already exist (provided you choose wisely).
• Provide a clear benefit that people can positively associate with the change.
• Once you’ve made a stand for something new, you need to act consistently with those values if you want them to be credible.
• Rebranding can’t easily transform ill will.  But it can catch people before they feel alienated and can give people a reason to reappraise how they feel if they are becoming ambivalent.

Back to that marketing director I mentioned.  Eventually he was persuaded to accept a minor updating of his brand.  It wasn’t everything that it could be, but it turned the brand from declining sales to growth for the first time in years.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, market research, Marketing consumer psychology, rebranding

As I mentioned last time, I’ve only once found an impromptu use for my understanding of consumer behaviour and consumer psychology, and I certainly never anticipated that a situation might arise where market research might make a difference between life and death.

But that just shows how little I know.

Recently, the UK government has announced that 10% of hospital (NHS Trust) funding will be dependent on patient satisfaction levels.  To put that in financial terms, that could mean around £10billion of expenditure will be dependent on patient satisfaction.

And here’s the thing.  This is, in my opinion, the most profoundly stupid example of using market research that I have ever encountered: it’s going to result in lives being lost.

Let’s go back a few years, before any of us had heard of MRSA or any of the other so-called super-bugs that are resistant to antibiotics and kill people.

How many patients would have walked out of a hospital thinking, “There was a risk of me contracting a life-threatening bacterial infection in that hospital, I’d better market them down to a 5 out of 10.”

Ah, you may say, but people might have said the hospital wasn’t very clean.

That’s true.  But against what standard of cleanliness are patients judging the hospital?  Most of us are fortunate enough not to visit hospitals too often, so can we really judge what properly, hygienically clean looks like?

Of course, now that we’ve been primed to think about something as important as super-bugs we’re very sensitive to how clean a hospital looks.  But we don’t know how effectively they are controlling this type of infection from what we see; that requires expert testing.

It might be useful to know what people are actually doing in the hospital.  Are they reporting toilets that they find are dirty?  Are they cleaning up after themselves effectively where they can?  Are they washing their hands properly?  Are they using the special sanitising products provided?  Are they only coming to the hospital as visitors when they know they aren’t carrying a cold or stomach bug?

There is no shortage of evidence to show that people are hopelessly poor at reporting this sort of information accurately – not that, as far as I know, anyone is proposing to ask them what they are doing.  It’s all about what  they think.

I don’t think the NHS is perfect – far from it.  But I don’t think that I know how to judge how it’s performing in totality.

If someone happens to go for an out-patient appointment and is kept waiting for two hours they would feel bad.  In completing a survey they would probably exhibit be a ‘halo effect’ whereby they misattribute that bad feeling to many aspects of their experience.  Now if the delay was caused because the doctor in question was saving a life elsewhere would the patient realise?

Individual patients don’t have the perspective or the expertise to judge how well a hospital is performing.  But these inexpert, myopic opinions, when collected in their thousands and pressed together in a report, take on a gravity that is totally out of proportion to the base data.

And people will almost certainly die as a result.

Money will be wasted.  It will be wasted on the survey process itself.  It will be wasted on implementing the wrong solutions.  It will be wasted because the hospitals will invest in playing the game – anticipating what they think patients will want to see and hear to give them good scores.

All of these will drive money away from the expert evaluation of hospital effectiveness, drug funding and objective decision-making that should be taking place on the basis of managers doing the best job they can, as experts in the hospitals they are tasked to run.

You may never hear someone say, “Market research saved my life”, but if you’re unfortunate enough to need the UK’s National Health Service and not get the care you need, market research might just be responsible for you not living.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, consumer research, market research 10%, consumer behaviour, consumer psychology, market research, National Health Service, NHS, patient satisfaction

Be honest, how many of you thought you would ever read that as a headline?

As someone who has worked in and around what is generally known as “market research” for twenty years I was always slightly disappointed that I didn’t have a job that might be called upon dramatically.

“Help!!! Is there a market researcher on the plane?” Is not a phrase I ever expected to hear.

As a brief aside, I was once able to put my consumer behaviour skills to good use with strangers: I was taking a train with a friend and a number had been cancelled, resulting in the sorts of over-crowding that’s not permitted for the transportation of any other mammal.

We’d failed to get on two trains and watched two passengers almost come to blows as one attempted to compress an over-crowded carriage.

When the third train arrived we saw a tiny space, possibly only an illusion based on sixty people inhaling simultaneously, but decided we had to go for it.  Just then two people started fighting their way OFF the train that we wanted to get on.  They were at their intended station and were struggling to get through the packed groups of people between their place and the train doors.

As they made it through they were defiantly angry at the people they felt were blocking their route – in fact they just had no space to move into to get out of their way, and no one was planning on stepping off this train that they had worked so hard to get on to.

My friend and I, emboldened by a sense of mathematical justice – two people had now got off the train, their hadto be room for two more – pushed into the crowd.  Whilst the people we were now pressed against weren’t exactly happy about it, they also had seen the people get off and were, I suspect, torn between personal discomfort and resignation at the fact we were only re-balancing a distasteful equation.

After my friend broke the silence with a cheery “Hello” a conversation sprang up in our area of the carriage – an extraordinarily rare event on any form of London public transport.  After laughing about the fact that a train operator wouldn’t think to have drivers for all the trains they were operating the conversation turned to contrasting the general bonhomie of my friend and I with the couple who had only moments earlier escaped the packed carriage: why, one of my travelling companions asked, had they been unhappy to leave a crowded train whilst we were happy to be on it.

“Ah ah,” I said, pleased that my consumer psychology skills were at last coming in handy in an impromptu situation, “it’s the psychology of loss aversion!  The people getting off the train were anxious about losing out because they want to get home by getting off the train.  My friend and  I were afraid we would lose out by not getting onto a train and not getting home.  So the same psychological mechanism that makes us happy makes them unhappy because of the context.”

So, personally, I’ve been slightly useful but not saved any lives.  Which brings me back to the title of this blog: Market Research Saved My Life!  Has that happened?  Could it happen?  What would you spend on it if it could?

I’ll tell you next time!

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, Uncategorized consumer behaviour, loss aversion, market research, train travel

There’s no escaping the fact that Tiger Woods’ personal life has become very public in the last couple of  days.

But what, you may well ask, could his “transgressions” possibly have to do with consumer behaviour or market research?

The answer is in Tiger’s statement after his private life became monumentally public.  Here’s what he said on his website:

“I have let my family down and I regret those transgressions with all of my heart. I have not been true to my values and the behavior my family deserves.”

Now none of us can say whether this is what Tiger Woods really feels, or whether this is just the best thing he can think to say in the position he has found himself.  But for the purposes of this post, let’s take Tiger at his word.

He has not been true to his values.

Market research is frequently preoccupied with asking people what they think.  What are their attitudes (something very closely linked to their values)?

And here is classic example of something we all are manifestly capable of: our behaviour not matching our values.  Our attitudes and values are what we like to tell ourselves about how we are; our behaviour is how we actually are.

When it comes to understanding consumers what would you rather know?  What people like to tell themselves or what they really do?  I promise you there is, more often than not, a world of difference between the two.

I believe it’s a very important distinction.  I suspect Tiger Woods’ wife might be struggling to reconcile the two because most people like to think that there is a strong connection between values, attitudes and behaviour.

I’m not criticising Tiger Woods’ actions because I have no idea what he did or what circumstances surrounded it (and, frankly, it’s none of my business), but if Mrs Woods wants to know what Tiger’s values are she will find out from his behaviour not his words.

Philip Graves

Philip Graves consumer behaviour, consumer research consumer behaviour, market research, Tiger Woods, Transgressions