The Friction Fallacy: Why Your Customers Are Lying to You

There is a peculiar, almost religious faith in modern business that suggests the answer to every problem lies in a survey. When a product fails or a service stalls, the immediate reflex is to ask the customer what they want. We gather them into rooms, offer them lukewarm coffee, and take their word as gospel.

This is a fundamental error. It is based on the flawed assumption that humans are rational actors who understand their own motivations. In reality, we are masters of post-rationalisation. We do things for messy, emotional, and often ridiculous reasons, and then we invent a sensible-sounding story to explain it after the fact.

If you listen to what people say, you are looking at a polished version of the truth. If you want the real story, you have to watch what they do.

The Problem with Perfection

Consider the classic case of the early instant cake mixes. On paper, they were a triumph of efficiency. The manufacturers had managed to condense the entire process into a single powder: just add water, stir, and stick it in the oven. It was a masterpiece of convenience that should have dominated the market.

Except, nobody bought it.

Had you asked the target audience why they weren't buying, they would have given you perfectly respectable excuses. They might have complained about the crumb structure or the hint of an artificial aftertaste. They would have pointed to the price or the packaging. They would have given you "sensible" data that led you down a dozen expensive and incorrect paths.

The truth was far more human and far less dignified. The product was too easy. By removing all the effort, the manufacturers had also removed the reward. A housewife in the 1950s using a "just add water" mix felt like a cheat. She wasn't baking a cake for her family: she was just rehydrating a box of chemicals. There was no love in the labor because there was no labor.

The solution wasn't to make the product better or cheaper. They made it harder. They took the powdered egg out and told the customer they had to add a fresh one themselves. This tiny bit of intentional friction allowed the customer to feel like a participant again. By adding an egg, they were "baking" once more. Sales didn't just recover: they exploded.

The View from the Margins

In the boardroom, this kind of thinking is often dismissed as irrational. But when your life is defined by navigating systems that weren't built for you, you quickly realise that the "official" version of how things work is usually a fantasy.

I spend a lot of my time looking at the world from a seated position. If I relied on the official maps of a city, I would constantly be stuck at the bottom of stairs or facing "accessible" doors that require three hands to operate. The map tells one story: the reality of the pavement tells another. You learn very quickly to ignore the brochure and look for the scuff marks on the floor. You look for the "desire lines": those muddy paths worn into the grass where people have collectively decided that the official pavement is in the wrong place.

This is the secret weapon of the entrepreneurs we work with at Rise Beyond Barriers. When you are forced to constantly hack your environment just to get through the day, you become an expert at spotting where the system is failing everyone else, too. You see the workarounds. You see where people are struggling with a "solution" that is actually an obstacle.

Stop Asking, Start Observing

The most valuable insights don't come from focus groups. They come from watching someone struggle with a "seamless" interface and seeing the moment they give up. They come from noticing the weird, idiosyncratic ways people use your product that you never intended.

If you want to innovate, stop looking for ways to make everything perfectly smooth. A world without friction is a world where nothing sticks. Sometimes, the most profitable thing you can do is give your customer an egg to crack.

Stop trusting the data that people give you when they know they are being watched. The real opportunities are hidden in the messy, irrational gaps between what people say and what they actually do. That is where the real business happens.