Not so long ago, I blogged about my sporadic participation in focus groups. Don’t remember it? Click the link. Too lazy to click the link? Here’s a summary: I have lied in order to gain admission into focus groups to make a quick buck, but sometimes I am paid to discuss something I actually know something about. Last time, my focus group concentrated on body wash. I went to a pharmacy hours before and familiarized myself with the market. I even managed to keep the pomegranate-scented exfoliating beads from squirting into my nose. (To this day, I won’t buy Herbal Essences products due to an unfortunate accident involving a sniffing spree down the shampoo aisle and overzealous squeezing. Have you ever sneezed out volumizing floral scents? It hurts). So the last focus group, I sat in a group of moderately to very trashy women and passed around wooden models of body wash bottles. We had to rate them from one to three using that remote control device used from America’s Funniest Home Videos. The bottles started out looking innocuously enough like those of every other competing body wash out there. But as the focus group progressed, a trend started to take effect. The bottles’ constitutions were slowly whittling down to another familiar shape. The wooden samples looked like, well, wood. The last samples were so clearly inspired by dildos that they could be marketed as multi-purpose. Certainly there’s a niche of consumers who would like washing with the viscous fluids coming out of such contraptions. I’m sworn to secrecy about which brand I did a focus group for, but I will admit that it’s not Caress. That would be too fitting. Next week, I’m participating in another focus group about athletic clothing. Let me assure you that my workout clothing consists of yoga pants and a random tee shirt, whether I’m going to be getting in downward dog or not. Because I have small feet, I buy athletic shoes in the children’s section - it saves money and the styles are pretty much the same. I don’t know what kinds of questions I’m going to be asked, but I’m sure I can fake out the group pretty easily. The whole point of this post, actually, was to answer a question left in the comments section: “How do you sign up for focus groups?” Well, here’s how I did it. You can look for focus groups on Craigslist in the ETC category or at findfocusgroups.com. At the former, you can sign up for a weekly email with all the latest listings. These sessions fill up very fast, but are worth a shot. The way I’ve scored focus group seats is by joining a specific market research group. To sign up, you’ll fill out a long questionnaire all about your demographic, health, household, education, lifestyle, the products you use, etc. Many surveys have what I call a “vice target,” so if you smoke, drink, and/or drive a car (yes, I consider that a vice), you’ll be eligible for more sessions that I am. Having a chronic illness and an illegal drug history can also be pluses. I fibbed to get an invite to a video game focus group, but many require you to prove some kind of eligibility. For example, a session designed to ask bipolar women ages 45-30 about their condiment preferences might actually require medical documentation. And the age thing cannot be avoided. It’s not worth trying to lie. Work, however, is totally flubbable. When asked if you work for a marketing firm or within the particular industry on which the focus group is concentrating, or if you share bodily fluids with someone who does, just say no. Also, a person is supposed to be in one focus group every six months. The research group I’m signed up with, openly ignored this rule with me, saying, “Oh, well don’t mention it.” So don’t even answer “yes” to that question. It has to be asked, but it’s not important. They need people who can form opinions and sentences. You might be wondering if I feel guilty about my focus group activity. I figure that very few people are clueless enough to produce unbiased data. Why pass up free money just because I technically skew results? It’s not lying; it’s keeping things a bit out of focus. A tiny bit.
I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
I wrote this. You didn't.