Soapy Waters Face The Talkfest Test
Sydney Morning Herald
Sunday April 2, 1989
I AM no Superwoman. My family doesn't congratulate me with every meal I serve. We'd take our lives in our hands if we tried eating off the kitchen floor, and my son definitely doesn't turn heads, on the cricket field, in his dazzling whiter-than-whites.
Succulent lamb chops regularly turn into burnt offerings at my hands and, like the Magic Pudding, I have a "cut-and-come again" ironing pile.
It seems that no matter how much I iron, the level of clothes in the basket remains irritatingly constant, leering at me from the corner of the family room, mute testimony to my chronic lack of organisation.
Still, believing that an ounce of image is worth a pound of performance, I've so far managed to disguise my housewifely shortcomings, mainly by knowing when to keep my mouth shut.
So what am I doing here, in a home straight out of a furniture polish commercial, with seven other women, holding forth, like an expert, on my experience with laundry powders?
In response to a newspaper ad, I'd offered my name to a market research agency as a subject willing to be called upon from time to time to participate in discussion groups.
However, I was beginning to think that I mightn't have made the grade as a consumer. Sure, the phone calls came, but somehow I was never eligible for a group. Did I really fill my supermarket trolley with an eccentric selection of goods that nobody else bought? It was a worry, I can tell you.
But at last my big break came.
"Do you regularly buy washing powder?" - "Yes |"
"Are you in the age range 20 to 40 years?" - "Yes |"
"Are you available for a group tomorrow?" - "Yes | Yes |"
Anxious not to be late, I am 15 minutes early. It wouldn't do to be the first on the doorstep, so I sit in the car until another equally timid participant pulls up. We introduce ourselves, and I promptly forget her name as we walk in together.
As each group member arrives, we smile and offer tentative remarks about the weather. It's only when our hostess produces a platter of freshly cut sandwiches, with pots of tea and coffee, that we begin to thaw.
The interviewer, an attractive, confidential type of woman, switches on the tape recorder and kicks off the discussion.
"Tell me, what do you expect your laundry powder to do?"
Someone volunteers that she has a soap-scum problem with her black T-shirts, so she really wishes her soap powder would dissolve completely. That does it, the session's off and running. Suddenly everyone's an expert, eager to share foolproof methods of pre-dissolving.
For the next hour and a half we air our dirty linen, totally anonymous and rejoicing under the labels of Mrs 1 to 8. Casting aside our initial inhibitions, we divulge our deepest washday secrets, hitherto known only to the friendly washing machine repairman.
Mrs 2 confides that she has a constant struggle with stubborn perspiration stains under the arms of her husband's shirts.
Mrs 4 takes pride in the fact that she diligently soaks all her washing overnight, and I wonder what they think of me when I declare that I fling the lot into the machine, press the button and walk away, fingers crossed, hoping for the best.
The interviewer has no difficulty keeping us talking, drawing out our opinions of various powders from the enormous list of brands we've come up with. This really is the mundane, boring stuff of the back room, the underbelly of everyday life, but I find it surprisingly amusing.
After all, where else can you talk soap powder and not afflict your audience with terminal boredom? To the market researchers it's all grist to the mill, and we are working, aren't we, so that gives it legitimacy.
Taking a break from talking, we sip fresh cups of tea as we sit back to view three video-taped ads. Though we should recognise them, we don't. It seems we've all been guilty of taking a mental lunchbreak during the commercials at home.
With some reservations, we give our seal of approval to two, but I'm afraid the third gets the thumbs-down from our group.
I spare a brief thought for the bright young advertising exec behind the ad, and imagine his inspiration striking him in the middle of the night.
"Eureka | I've got it |" he shouts as he sits bolt upright in bed. "They're gonna love this |" - what a shame we don't.
The tape recorder button clicks up, signalling the end of the session. With a warm smile, the interviewer thanks us for our valuable opinions, as she hands out our remuneration.
Like so much froth and bubble, our delicate cameraderie fades and disappears, and once again we become eight shy housewives who nod nervously to each other as we rise to leave.
Contributions to this column are welcome. Please phone Jenna Price on 2822935 to discuss your ideas.
HERALD SNAPSHOT
MARKET RESEARCHERS
Market research companies in NSW: 65
Methods: Door-to-door, discussion groups, telephone interviews, shopping centre encounters, mail surveys
Average pay for interviewer: $6.50-$12 an hour
Average pay for discussion group participant: $20 an hour
Average "call-up": Not more than once in six months
Source: Market Research Society (NSW Division).
© 1989 Sydney Morning Herald