I needed to head east, towards Farringdon, and then onto the Old Smithfield Market. I remembered my walk along the route of the River Fleet and became faintly aware that I was tracing the topography of its invisible valley. The streets surrounding Farringdon were busy; the pub where I went to the ‘an attractive man’ Meetup was packed. I passed the spacious Farringdon station, and after following a slight upward incline, I saw the old market place.
Ten minutes later, I had found my destination: a small meeting room that contained a square table. There were three people. The organiser of the group, Andrea, was clutching a set of marker pens. Andrea’s event had the title: ‘Increase sales by understanding your customers' buying decisions’. The event was about the psychology of buying, the criteria and priorities that can affect consumer choice, how to adjust your marketing to increase sales, and how to resist impulse purchases by being aware of the advertising strategies that businesses use.
‘So, why are you here?’ asked Andrea, beginning the introductions. This was the perfect opportunity to offer an explanation. ‘This is number eighty seven? Out of, what did you say, one hundred?’ Andrea started to laugh. After a bit more explanation, I then went onto say that I had once studied aspects of psychology as a student and was willing to participate in all the discussions and activities.
The other two members of the group were called Amy, who worked ‘in digital sales’ for a financial company, and Terri, who worked in a bank.
Andrea began by asking us about our buying habits: the extent to which we purchased goods on-line versus in stores. We all shared opinions, stories and anecdotes: that online retailer Amazon allegedly changed its prices depending on the customer and where they lived. Apparently we’re more likely to spend more money if prices are given without a pound or dollar sign. Banks, apparently, advertise more home improvement loans during Easter.
We started to talk about wine. If you go to a supermarket and you hear French music, you’re more likely to buy French wine. Also, shops encourage you to spend more money by placing expensive bottles of wine next to ludicrously expensive bottles, to make the expensive bottles look cheap. We also ranted about the fact that supermarkets always move things around and pretend that they’re selling things on ‘special offer’ when in reality, it’s all one big marketing scam.
A man walked into our meeting room.
‘Is this the… seminar?’ he asked. Andrea said it was. ‘What time did it start?’ There was then a short confusing interchange about whether he was half an hour late, or whether there was just half an hour to go. He squeezed past Terri and sat down.
The man, who was in his mid-forties, was skinny and scruffily dressed. His grey striped shirt was creased; its collar sticking out. I looked at his receding wild hair, and noticed that he was sweating profusely. He had a dour yet ambiguous expression: his eyes conveyed a hint of nervousness. I looked at his hands, which were sat on our shared desk. When he moved them to his face, I noticed a slight tremor. There was no hint of friendliness or engagement. Our new visitor didn’t look anyone in the eye, and nor did he introduce himself when our conversation arrived at a natural lull. In that small room, we had all become strangers. The atmosphere had moved from being jolly and friendly to one that was serious and business like.
Andrea moved to a new page on her flip chart, which contained a list of ‘cognitive biases’, or habits of thought that marketeers exploit. We were introduced to the bandwagon effect (where we copy other people), confirmation bias (where we look for information to confirm that we’ve made the right decision), and the endowment effect (if you already have something, you’re loath to give it up). Andrea then went onto explain the concepts of framing (the importance of a setting, or environment), anchoring (an initial figure becomes important during a negotiation), and the availability heuristic (the fact that we use what information is available to us).
Andrea was a great facilitator: we all chatted about these terms, offering examples to each other to develop our understanding. She drew on each of our contributions, and steered a path between different terms, definitions and examples. Everyone contributed, except for the man, who nervously looked around the room.
At the end of the class, I had an opportunity to chat with Andrea. Her group was about a year old, and had approximately four hundred members. Her events run, roughly, every month or so. Her main job was as a trainer. I suddenly understood the purpose of her group: it was an opportunity for her to try out new ideas, activities and concepts. In return, she could also have chats and discussions with people who were interested in the same issues. This was an example of what could be called the sharing economy: Meetup members have the opportunity to learn through a free seminar, and Andrea has an opportunity to explore and develop her ideas. It was a great idea. Everyone wins.
It was time to go. Amy and Terri had stood up.
‘I can send you these references by email, if you want’ said Andrea, turning to the group.
‘You have my email address?’ asked the man.
‘No. If you write your email address down here, I’ll then send the references to you’.
‘If you don’t have my email address then there’s no point’ replied the man, curtly. Silence hung heavily in the room for a few moments. I broke the tension by asking Andrea where the bathroom was, and we all made our way onto the corridor.
Minutes later, I was back on Poultry Avenue, peering into my phone, asking it a question about how to get home. Suddenly I heard a clear determined voice: ‘let’s go!’ I looked up. Amy and Terri had rushed past me. It had been Amy’s voice. I glanced in the direction of where they were heading. It struck me that they were just not walking: they were marching. I then saw the man. My instincts told me that the whole situation was wrong, very wrong: he seemed to be following them.
‘I don’t think you should follow them’, I called out to the man. He turned his head towards me for an instant, and then ignored me, setting off in the direction of the women. I put my phone away. My instinct said that I should follow him, to see what he would do, to keep an eye on him. My instinct said that I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.
The women turned left at the end of the street, and the man did too. They crossed a road, and he did too. He turned around. He looked straight at me, pausing for a moment, before continuing. Seconds later, I sensed that the situation was changing: the two women were clearly walking a lot faster than the man was. He got suddenly got caught up in a crowd of people outside a pub, which created even more distance between them. His gait slowed. He wasn’t following them anymore. I stopped walking.
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