At the end of the day, the product is…

Flowers through the letterbox?

A genius idea.

A revolution, like the revolution IKEA’s flatpack delivered to the furniture industry.

Order some letterbox flowers for a loved one by 10pm, and the very next day, the postman plops a long thin brown oblong through their front door.

The recipient doesn’t need to be there to sign for it.

It’s a glorious surprise that lies in wait on their doormat after a headache of a day at work.

They get home. They almost trip over the long thin brown oblong.

Confusion turns to intrigue turns to excitement turns to joy.

Flowers!!!

Flowers through the letterbox!?!!

They rip open the cardboard, fondle the fuchsia ribbon, read the exquisitely branded care instructions, extract the stylish gift note.

They hunt out a dusty old vase from under the sink. It’s been months since someone last gave them a gift of flowers. Years, maybe.

They lift out the precious stems one by one and unwrap the protective plastic webbing.

They hook out a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer to trim the ends of the stems, ready to insert into the vase.

But as they start to trim… it dawns on them that something isn’t right.

The flowers are… dehydrated.

The box has spent all day on the doormat, waiting for the recipient to get home, while those living breathing snippets of nature gasp for moisture.

Joy rapidly turns to disappointment rapidly turns to panic.

These flowers look borderline dodo.

What if they’re beyond salvation?

What if, despite the promise of the exquisitely written care instructions, these flowers don’t bounce back to life overnight?

The recipient does their best. They remove the lower leaves, trim the stems with kid gloves, and try to insert them into the vase with minimal disruption.

But it’s no use.

Some of the dehydrated flowers fall to bits in the process.

With a heavy heart, the recipient places the casualties in the bin and prays that the rest of the stems make a miraculous recovery after a night in water.

At the end of the day:
the product is the flowers.

The product is not the clever packaging.

It’s not the beautiful fuchsia ribbon, or the stylish gift note, or the exquisitely branded care instructions.

The product is the flowers.

The flowers have one job. To stop someone in their tracks with their unexpected splendour.

And if the flowers are half dead by the time the recipient gets home at night, the rest of the experience doesn’t matter.

The job of a gift of flowers is to wow someone and make them feel joy in the moment. That exact moment when they get the flowers. Not an hour later, once the blooms have stopped shedding dead bits. Not a day later, once the dehydrated survivors have drunk themselves back to life.

That’s not to say the other stuff doesn’t matter at all… the revolutionary packaging, the branding… sure, it can supercharge the experience. The medium is the message etc., but the medium can only amplify your product’s message, it can’t overwrite it. The other stuff only works when the message itself hits home.

You get one shot.

One shot to make your point.

One shot to deliver on your promise.

What is your product, at the end of the day?