The Science of Persuasion and the Art of the Sale

(This is from the introduction to my final paper in IDSC 8711 Cognitive Science which I took this past semester at the U of M)

I'll write more about the various research and findings in upcoming articles. Enjoy!

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It’s late fall when the compliance expert makes her way down the block of a quiet urban St. Paul neighborhood known as West Como. The leaves of the maple trees lining the streets have started turning fire red and the setting sun lights them like burning bushes. She scans the block and selects the side with fewer houses. “Fewer houses mean more land between the houses”, she thinks, “which means larger tax revenues collected from the owners ergo more donation margin” she recalls from a pep rally she attended last week. She’s profiling her primary targets and a quick check of the clock on her clipboard tells her that she has plenty of time to make her way up the other side of the street. Besides, she thinks to herself, if she’s only marginally successful in her goals on this side of the street, it will only make it easier to work the crowd on the other.

She starts with the larger 1930’s stucco two story on the corner. The lot is large, taking up the equivalent of three houses on the other side of the street. A semi-private cedar fence rings the backyard. A quick check to the driveway reveals a bright yellow Smart Car, license plate “B SMART”. Bingo she thinks. These are my people.

She sees movement inside the house and casually approaches the front door. Ringing the bell she hears a buzz from deep inside the house, reminiscent of some indiscriminant sound from a black and white television show she can’t name. Must be original, she thinks and mentally puts a checkmark next to frugal.

“Hi my name is Molly” she says suddenly bright and cheery to the skeptical eye from the man staring her down from behind the screen door. “We’re out today collecting signatures from like-minded people who care about water quality. Would you be willing to sign here along with your neighbors that you care about water quality too?”

He opens the door and takes the clipboard – scanning the list of names he realizes that he doesn’t recognize any of them but also realizes that he hasn’t made an effort to really get to know his neighbors. He notices the stack of strategically fanned brochures underneath the signature sheets as he hands it back to her. She’s tracking his every gaze, feigns a small hurt look that he’s not impressed with the trophies she’s collected so far, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. She knows she collected them in another neighborhood, so it is really unlikely that he knows any of them.

She see’s the clock on the clipboard again – that constant drumbeat compelling her forward. She quickly snatches one of the brochures and tries to hand it to him. He humors her by scanning through it as she runs through her canned spiel on how important clean water is, and how few people world wide have clean water, and how X thousands or hundreds of thousands of people die every day or year, he’s not really sure which, “because they don’t have clean water” she finishes.

He looks up from the brochure and raises his hand, signaling that she can stop.

“You can keep the brochure” she says.

He knows what she’s after and plays along, “yes, I care about clean water and would be more than happy to help with a donation, the thing is I don’t normally have a lot of cash on me, mainly plastic to help me track my purchases. You understand?”

“Well, we do take checks”, she offers sincerely. “Most people have been giving between thirty-five to forty dollars”, she lies. Most people SHOULD be giving that much she thinks internally to reconcile the dishonesty. Molly really does care about clean water. She also cares about winning the trip to Mexico.

“Let me see what I have”, he says stepping back inside the house to check his wallet. She makes another mental checkmark and thinks tonight’s compliance run is going to be easier than she thought.

He comes back with a twenty and hands it to her in exchange for some additional brochures and the clipboard again for his signature. He politely refuses and she makes up some excuse about needing people’s names for “accounting purposes” and flips up the signature sheet to reveal another page with donors and dollar amounts. He tells her to put down “Doe” and steps back inside. Again the fleeting wounded look appears but she realizes the clock is ticking and shifts back into a sunny disposition. Besides, she knows from the public tax records she printed out on the backside of her clipboard who he probably is. Looking down the street she sees a neighbor out raking leaves and resets the check list and prepares to tell the neighborhood of the generosity of the guy on the corner.

The guy on the corner was me, and I had just been played.

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(C) Copyright 2009 "The Science of Persuasion and the Art of the Sale: The Role of Framing in Developing Defenses to Bounded Irrationality"

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