I have a false-glow detector living in my house

There is one device in my home that is more accurate than any market research. It costs nothing, works 24 hours a day, and never breaks down. It’s my seventeen-year-old daughter. 

Her BS detector is infallible. Whenever I try to present something to her as a great idea (and we mothers have a talent for declaring anything that works in our favor a great idea), she spots it within three seconds. One glance over her shoulder and a slightly raised eyebrow are enough for me to know my campaign has failed. Zero conversion.

Next time, please come back with a better argument. And then, somewhere between one “why?” at dinner and another glance over her shoulder, I realize that for years I’ve had the best marketing consultant I’ve ever met living under my roof. No pitches, no presentations, no status meetings. It’s time I wrote down the most important things I’ve learned from her. She doesn’t buy stories; she buys the truth. She has a built-in radar for anything overhyped, polished, or exaggerated. If I promise her something and don’t deliver, it’s over. No second chance, no “come on, just one more time.” I admit, it has made my life harder. But it has also forced me to think twice about every word before I say it, both at home and at work. She asks “why?” until she drives me crazy. “Why exactly this way?” Sometimes I think she only asks to test me (and she does, with great enjoyment). And then I catch myself realizing that I don’t actually have an answer either... 

That’s usually the moment when I realize something is worth questioning. It’s the same at work. One simple “why?” It sounds like a small thing, but it can open up half a strategy. She tells me when she’s bored. We adults have learned to remain polite. We sit through meetings. We listen to presentations. We watch ads. We nod. She doesn’t have that problem. If she’s bored, I’ll know within a minute. Sometimes it annoys me. Sometimes it’s more useful than any research, because in marketing we often analyze what captures people’s attention, but much less often admit to ourselves when we’ve actually lost it. 

The text originally written for the “Monday Column” can be read here.