This past Saturday was one of the finest October days with bright sun rays and orange and yellow leaves making their final journey to earth. At 10am I grabbed my leaf blower. It wouldn’t start. Two of my close-by neighbors were on their way to the golf course and noticed my struggle with the leaf blower so they pulled into the driveway. “Hey Rob, what’s going on?”  “G’morning, men, - the on-switch seems broken”. Both neighbors were technology workers in big firms; one a coder of emotional intelligence software and the other worked for a big consultancy talking of Internet-of-Things things. How could they help me, I wondered.

Fred asked me where a sensor was located on the blower to which I responded, “Fred, I’ve had it five years!”. “Sure”, he replied, “but if you had it sensored you would’ve known about that switch beforehand.  Let’s get it sensored-up”. Fred pulled out his iPhone, went to Amazon.com and ordered a new switch and also a sensor. Thirty minutes later a drone dropped the package in my back yard and I installed the switch. After, Fred installed a sensor that needed a little algorithm input via downloadable app – and now the blower worked again. “This app”, he told me, “will notify you when the switch fails”. “Well”, I responded, “I also need to mow the grass once the leaves are removed”.
“Really?” asked Dave. “Have you changed the oil on your lawnmower lately?”
 “Not sure, maybe last Spring”
“You’ve gotta keep small engines well oiled; we best take a look”. Dave removed the mower oil cap and sure enough, it was low. “You know, Rob, you gotta get a smart sensor on this thing right away. Let me get one set up”. Dave took out his iPhone, got on Amazon and 30 minutes later a drone dropped his order in my back yard. He installed a new sensor halfway down in the oil reserve, put in a little algorithm, hit “send” and the sensor told his phone the mower needed .65oz of oil. So, I filled it up. “Thanks Dave”.

Now we were thirsty and I offered them a cold beer heading toward the back door. “Hmmmm, groaned Fred, once in the kitchen, “it’s rather humid in this room.”
“Sure is, said Dave; where’s your thermostat?”
“It’s over near the stairway”. Dave walked over and saw that it indicated “73” but that was the only number on my Westinghouse unit. “Rob, he said, watch this”. Dave took his right hand and literally ripped my thermostat off the wall. “I’m going to my car”, he said, and ran out the door. Coming back in, he opened a small box with a round thermostat called Nest. He installed it on the wall, pulled out his iPhone and performed set-up and cried out, “Oh my gosh, the humidity in here is 88 percent, no wonder were feeling sticky”. Then he programmed the Nest for me so I could control all kinds of atmospheric data.  Added now to the lawnmower and my leaf blower - life was quickly feeling like the Internet of Things. Fred, enjoying my new life come-of-age, asked me how the frig and stove and microwave were working. “Well, a…”, but he suddenly interrupted me. “Just as I thought! Dave, get on Amazon and do your thing!” Thirty minutes later a drone flew over my driveway with a box and dropped it into the bed of my old 2010 pickup. I grabbed a second beer hoping my wife wouldn’t come home from Publix too soon. The guys took apart the screens on my 3 kitchen units to install sensors, used their iPhones to input some code, run a small software app and suddenly Dave was ready to cook a frozen pizza without even pre-setting the oven. “You see here, Rob, all you have to do from now on is…..”

“Well, guys, thanks for stopping by. I’m all set, just gotta get my garage door opener back up and I’ll be done for today".
“Really? asked Fred, let’s take a look”. Oh no, I thought. Thirty minutes later a drone flew over my driveway dropping a small box into Fred’s hands. He dismantled the electronic door opener, placed a sensor inside, pulled out his iPhone – and bingo. “Stand back and watch”. My own iPhone loaded a digital picture representation of exactly the level the door was at and by hitting a number 100, the door would be down completely, by hitting 50, the door would be half down. As the men were leaving, Sandra, my wife, pulled into the drive, tapped her remote for the garage door: no movement. “Oh Rob”, she yelled, “that dang opener can’t be broken again can it?”

“No dear, just watch this.” Holding my iPhone loaded with the new app, I tapped “zero” and the door went up. She looked at Fred and Dave with raised eyebrows.

“Rob, I got a ticket on the way home because one brake light burned out; gonna be a $50 ticket. I’m so mad cos I didn’t even know it was out”. Dave and Fred looked over to me and I looked back at them. Thirty minutes later a drone from Amazon flew over the front yard depositing a small box.

“Sandra, Dave asked, may I borrow your car for a few minutes? From now on you will always know when a brake light is out - sound good? “Oh, whatever”, she replied and took in the groceries. When she returned, Dave asked for her iPhone, downloaded an app and told Sandra to come look: “Ok, he said, I put a sensor in the lighting wires - see if you can tell from the screen which light is dead." 
“Ah, yes, she exclaimed, it’s that one” while pointing to her phone’s screen.
“This app will never let you down. No more unknowns on this car.”
Quickly now, the men said goodbye while walking to Dave’s car, only to hesitate. Dave knocked his hand on his head and pounded his fist on the car roof with his other hand. “I’ve locked my keys inside”. I’ll have to call my wife to bring a spare!
“WAIT”, I shouted.
“WAIT”, shouted Sandra.
Before long, off in the distance there was a faint buzzing sound heading for Dave. Fred just stood there in amazement, watching in the sky.

From recent retail experience, I witnessed consumer behaviors adapting to 360-degree marketing. An entire chapter in my new eBook is about the digital revolution in retailing, still transforming, in business-to-consumer relationships.

Customer loyalty programs have drawn buyers to brick-n-mortar stores for several years. Using on-the-spot 15% coupon incentives the customer releases their credit history, is approved and now owns 24.49% annual percentage rate credit. The retailer has new currency: personal data.

Over the following two weeks the customer’s mailbox will bulge with real paper. With credit resolved, marketing will take over. Colorful marketing materials arrive informing the customer how to participate in social media, to join the millions who have also found value just for shopping with their rewards card. Customers now began to process their intentions, security, privacy, thinking about risks when giving feedback. The retailer has opened the door for emotional fulfillment, good or bad. Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest rise to the occasion.
As well, surveys will soon follow if the store notices an abundance of purchasing by a customer. “Jenny, how was your shopping experience?” Marketers love stories. The shift: Should you reply to surveys or in other social media, software algorithms are parsing your comments based on words used. It feels personal but you are now a contextual data source. If you haven’t shopped in the past 60 days you may get a communications: “Jenny, we’ve noticed you haven’t shopped with us lately, hope to see you soon”. Feels very personal, very caring but the underlying software has a time element on your profile.

The messaging is expanded if the customer has provided an email. That little field was presented on the credit application. Combined with the customer’s phone number, Jenny is now driving down the road thinking about her son’s football practice – suddenly, there’s a retailer texting out a sale item. And, it’s something that will coordinate with her last purchase. A really thoughtful person must be watching her to suggest such a nice pair of shoes to match her new dress. Or, it could just be a purpose-built algorithmic function. My employer had millions of emails/phone numbers and over time, increasing numbers of customers visited my store with smartphones and more, showing me their sale items on-screen. Here is one of many fascinating observations of this trend shared in my book: the method for senior females becoming quick-adopters to personalization using their phones. Compared to senior men, senior women often shop with their daughters. The daughters taught their moms the “how-to” when it came to grabbing deals delivered to their cellphone. It began with a rewards program and successfully drove in-store sales. Retailers owe some gratitude to women for leading their mothers into the digital revolution. I cannot exclude the power of women shopping patterns overall; they frequently shop together. For the most part, senior men remained oblivious to digital personalization as fathers and sons typically shop apart. Retailers are aware of this fact. But that begs the question, is there a strategy for marketing 360-degrees to men? Ah, you will have to see for yourself; there are big things taking place in stores for the male shopper. Touch-points, opportunities, special invitation events – before algorithms drill down into our personal lives, we consumers still love personal interactions. We all do.

Have you noticed the word "neuromarketing" appearing like a gray shadow of traditional marketing?  Its intent, plain and simple, begins with neuro =  brain functions = pathways to sales. It's neurology. But it's strange neurology. So, in a given scenario you wish to buy a car with your spouse. With choices galore the best and most efficient method to begin searching is to go online. Many personal ideas surface for each of you that align with buying the new car; at the tail-end of your mutual journey the reality of price and monthly payments and insurance becomes your focus. Marketing has presented options and maybe inspired actions. Neuromarketing presents presumptions.
Is there a difference? Whereas marketing's role can be helpful presenting unlimited choices in financing, car color, styles, interiors, where-to-buy, etc., neuro-M presumes you are willing to get very, very personal in the online space: What kind of neighborhood do you live in? Is this your only car? How do you feel about safety options? Can you imagine passing your older vehicle to your child? Who did more research on your purchase, you or your spouse? Will you and your spouse share the vehicle? Who will best maintain the car? Are you more motivated to drive the vehicle than your spouse? Are you putting off other purchases to buy your new car? Which ones? Where are you planning trips in year one of ownership? Will you "share" your driving experiences on Facebook? Who is more logical, you or your spouse? Are the car's cognitive technologies best for you or your spouse?
Neuromarketing has presumed personal engagement is absolutely what you've wanted! It's like you and your spouse are given separate psychological evals while resting on a couch with a psychologist questioning.  What did neuro-M forget? It forgot to ask IF you wanted to participate, to engage, to get deep. It presumed you did and therefore went ahead with the deep mental interrogation hoping you would feel special. The better question may be, why is this form of marketing called "neuromarketing? As we become more internet of things (IoT) - we are being led to believe connectivity is the future: you+me+world in a bio-rithmic family. Neuro-M is after data about our thought process. Neurology, a medical profession, however, is not just brain. Thoughts involve the total central nervous system, the brain being one part. If neuromarketers can collect enough "thinking" data, their presumption is validated. Such is the case with a large US consulting firm stating its own neuro-promises: Diseases are healed, hunger is eliminated, the global economy is self-maintaining, education becomes available for everyone. And yes, innovation is disruptive.
Please, one more question: Will you or your spouse be first to back over the garbage can?