Growing up in Honolulu, I discovered the power of nature at the age of 10. On the steep, sandy slope of the beach at Waimea Bay, I would stand toe to toe with a 9-foot wave rising toward me on a sheen of retreating foam, my heels dug into that back pull of seawater, sand and pebble. Just before it hit, I remember a silent glimmer coming off that massive green wall. Then it would pound me and send my tiny frame tumbling in the grit and wash of its awesome might.
I thought of those pounding waves years later when watching a friend set up a concession stand at a church theater: a clean row of gummy chews, another of toffee cups, a third of hard-candy suckers and the fourth of Snickers.
The minute he opened up for business, the Snickers just flew off the table. The other rows sat almost untouched. It was something to behold.
These memories come back because the whole idea of using data to harness the consumer psyche feels unnatural. It’s like trying to control those waves at Waimea Bay or manipulate what’s essentially a tide of independently thinking individuals, everyday consumers. It’s an affront, a godlike declaration that a simple shopkeeper could somehow manage to not only predict but also manipulate wave after wave of customers to sell more stuff.
I’m not saying mankind has never manipulated nature. The Hoover Dam, the wind turbines of the Great Plains, even global warming have been testimonies to mankind overpowering nature.
But as awesome becomes understandable, as the wonder of instinct yields to a crunch of numbers, what happens to the spirit? What happens to that sense of things that are beyond any one of us? What keeps us engaged?
Then I remember the visits to Waimea Bay when the tide was low and the water as gentle as a purring kitten. I can imagine a generation that thinks chocolate, caramel and peanuts are too heavy for a single snack. And I think of consumers and all their divergent aspirations and evolving desires.
They are an elusive ocean, too rich to ignore, too vast to truly tame.
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