11ant
2017-03-11 13:13:46
- #1
Knowledge about basics retains its value for a while. Knowledge about specific products is different – markets are in flux, some in-house manufacturers have given up, merged, or changed owners. Paradigm shifts – currently "energy saving" is the golden calf of all – are reshuffling the constellations of solid and timber panel builders. In the seventh year, it was time for me to get an overview of the market cross-section for the first time this decade.
In doing so, I did not rely solely on names familiar to me from earlier years, but also included portals promising brochures from several providers at once. Solid and timber panel builders mixed as colorfully as desired. Anyone who embarks on such a journey can experience something. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been latent watching the market out of the corner of my eye, so I knew that I could forget much from "back then" regarding "companies" (brands / names) and what is "typical" for them: names with a "ring" (that is brand value solely as a name) like Bugatti or Grundig have partly changed ownership so fundamentally that except for their recognition, not a stone remains on another, at least among prefabricated house builders. But since the trend suite Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW has overhauled the model ranges, I had to create a "full blood count" of the market again.
Most providers manage to send information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five working days. Slightly more than a quarter of providers are overtaken by their own back wheels: their info folder shipping logistics takes a few days longer than the pressing of the responsible regional salesperson via email, asking when he may finally deliver his little speeches. The brochures of the solid builders are amusing – for many I feel like at a "Chinese" or "Italian" restaurant: they somehow all have the same offers on their menu, only each with a different number. "Sweet and sour duck" and "pizza salami" are everywhere. The computer drawings with the happy building families all look the same, and behold, the reverse image search proves it: you find their "building proposals" again with one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers. Only sometimes not made of aerated concrete (or otherwise monolithic) but built as a "composite system." There are vegan lasagnas too.
Particularly embarrassing: the reference image galleries of the same providers on their websites even show a wider range (of customer houses), all of which would have served much better as building proposals. And typically no one admits to being a licensee of foreign designs, although one should actually know that this does not bother customers in their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra at all.
Otherwise, the field mostly differs in three approaches: sending information as a one-part brochure, and two-track once as a picture brochure for all and with technical information as a saturation supplement; and as a third variant, combining pictures and technology but then split into individual brochures by product lines. The majority decided in all three cases on a prompt delivery of their information in a handy format. Many then also offer a thicker brochure additionally, but the initial information packages already reveal quite well from whom one no longer wants anything.
These small brochures have meanwhile become almost part of the family, having their fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, "longed for, hotly implored" (I hear Dalida sing) a full six weeks later. The postman's panting on the last step was soon clarified: two point seven kilos is the weight of the book, 364 pages. What comes now makes me think about whether this is a failed advertisement or simply real satire. Because on two point seven kilos and three hundred sixty-four pages, it says: n.o.t.h.i.n.g ! ! !
Well, not really nothing, although: that would at least have been a nice idea, such a thick notebook for full scribbling of one's own ideas, and on the last page, it would say: arrived – we build it for you!
But here stands another "nothing," the book is content-wise, to put it mildly, low-calorie. Although it is so nicely thick, only its prominent advertising bearer is thicker. Right at the beginning, he raves to me about being a satisfied builder himself. Like so many others too, by now tens of thousands. The company used to be in dire straits, it was close to closing, then the new boss came and since then things have been looking up. And forward, way forward. Mentally, one is already in the 25th century, or at least not far off. So, if I want, I can build a whole village with them, together with other families. Full of houses of the future, mentally ultra-modern. In the back house of my car-sharing electric car charging station, I would then live. Possibly above my own medical practice. Quite discreetly I could sneak there via a separate stairway at the supplier entrance on the side. And for grandma there would also still be room. Well, at least a small consolation.
Unfortunately, leafing through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for a real achievement: the manufacturer actually managed, over two point seven kilos and three hundred sixty-four pages, that I did not come across any information about such pesky details as wall construction, at least excerpts of service descriptions or anything substantial. A dozen floor plans are scattered through the tome, partly with square meter indications and even edge lengths of the outer walls are occasionally included.
I am overwhelmed – but not enthused, and certainly not: informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer's advertising people that there is this great effect in sales psychology that among several approximately equivalent products, the one that gets the "home advantage" is the one that reaches the customer first – and that going last past the finish line (especially when the race has already been waved off, as a six-day race is not meant to give the last in the starting field so much time for their first lap) can no longer be compensated for by transferring the fattest chunk of money to the catalog printing company.
After this textbook example of a towering flop, I simply have to "ask around": how did it go for you in quenching your information hunger, how many (or few) providers managed to "hit" at least roughly a common definition of "useful, decision-supporting information" with you, and in which direction was the furthest miss, making the recipient of information feel that the trip to the mailbox was worth answering questions?
In doing so, I did not rely solely on names familiar to me from earlier years, but also included portals promising brochures from several providers at once. Solid and timber panel builders mixed as colorfully as desired. Anyone who embarks on such a journey can experience something. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been latent watching the market out of the corner of my eye, so I knew that I could forget much from "back then" regarding "companies" (brands / names) and what is "typical" for them: names with a "ring" (that is brand value solely as a name) like Bugatti or Grundig have partly changed ownership so fundamentally that except for their recognition, not a stone remains on another, at least among prefabricated house builders. But since the trend suite Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW has overhauled the model ranges, I had to create a "full blood count" of the market again.
Most providers manage to send information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five working days. Slightly more than a quarter of providers are overtaken by their own back wheels: their info folder shipping logistics takes a few days longer than the pressing of the responsible regional salesperson via email, asking when he may finally deliver his little speeches. The brochures of the solid builders are amusing – for many I feel like at a "Chinese" or "Italian" restaurant: they somehow all have the same offers on their menu, only each with a different number. "Sweet and sour duck" and "pizza salami" are everywhere. The computer drawings with the happy building families all look the same, and behold, the reverse image search proves it: you find their "building proposals" again with one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers. Only sometimes not made of aerated concrete (or otherwise monolithic) but built as a "composite system." There are vegan lasagnas too.
Particularly embarrassing: the reference image galleries of the same providers on their websites even show a wider range (of customer houses), all of which would have served much better as building proposals. And typically no one admits to being a licensee of foreign designs, although one should actually know that this does not bother customers in their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra at all.
Otherwise, the field mostly differs in three approaches: sending information as a one-part brochure, and two-track once as a picture brochure for all and with technical information as a saturation supplement; and as a third variant, combining pictures and technology but then split into individual brochures by product lines. The majority decided in all three cases on a prompt delivery of their information in a handy format. Many then also offer a thicker brochure additionally, but the initial information packages already reveal quite well from whom one no longer wants anything.
These small brochures have meanwhile become almost part of the family, having their fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, "longed for, hotly implored" (I hear Dalida sing) a full six weeks later. The postman's panting on the last step was soon clarified: two point seven kilos is the weight of the book, 364 pages. What comes now makes me think about whether this is a failed advertisement or simply real satire. Because on two point seven kilos and three hundred sixty-four pages, it says: n.o.t.h.i.n.g ! ! !
Well, not really nothing, although: that would at least have been a nice idea, such a thick notebook for full scribbling of one's own ideas, and on the last page, it would say: arrived – we build it for you!
But here stands another "nothing," the book is content-wise, to put it mildly, low-calorie. Although it is so nicely thick, only its prominent advertising bearer is thicker. Right at the beginning, he raves to me about being a satisfied builder himself. Like so many others too, by now tens of thousands. The company used to be in dire straits, it was close to closing, then the new boss came and since then things have been looking up. And forward, way forward. Mentally, one is already in the 25th century, or at least not far off. So, if I want, I can build a whole village with them, together with other families. Full of houses of the future, mentally ultra-modern. In the back house of my car-sharing electric car charging station, I would then live. Possibly above my own medical practice. Quite discreetly I could sneak there via a separate stairway at the supplier entrance on the side. And for grandma there would also still be room. Well, at least a small consolation.
Unfortunately, leafing through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for a real achievement: the manufacturer actually managed, over two point seven kilos and three hundred sixty-four pages, that I did not come across any information about such pesky details as wall construction, at least excerpts of service descriptions or anything substantial. A dozen floor plans are scattered through the tome, partly with square meter indications and even edge lengths of the outer walls are occasionally included.
I am overwhelmed – but not enthused, and certainly not: informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer's advertising people that there is this great effect in sales psychology that among several approximately equivalent products, the one that gets the "home advantage" is the one that reaches the customer first – and that going last past the finish line (especially when the race has already been waved off, as a six-day race is not meant to give the last in the starting field so much time for their first lap) can no longer be compensated for by transferring the fattest chunk of money to the catalog printing company.
After this textbook example of a towering flop, I simply have to "ask around": how did it go for you in quenching your information hunger, how many (or few) providers managed to "hit" at least roughly a common definition of "useful, decision-supporting information" with you, and in which direction was the furthest miss, making the recipient of information feel that the trip to the mailbox was worth answering questions?