The “Holes” Theory of Marketing

You know the drill.

Most contemporary product marketing isn’t about selling products. It’s about selling holes. 

If I’m a marketer, I don’t want to just sell you a pair of pants. 

Sure, if I do my job well, you might buy the pair I’m selling, and that might make my company a little money. 

But if it’s a really good pair of pants, and it covers your legs effectively, you’ll probably stick with it for the next few years.

 You may not want another pair in all that time, since, you know, you’re already wearing some. Not so good for business. 

If, however, I sell you a gaping, pants-shaped hole in your heart, one that creates a void of intense desire that can only be filled by the specific pair that fits it (which I happen to have in stock), well... 

You’ll buy the pants to fill the hole. 

Bottomless consumption. 

Buying something to fill a hole is the same basic purchasing pattern as buying something because you like it, but with a twist: 

The hole is always just the tiniest bit too big. 

After a few days, the pants (being nothing more than fabric, when you get right down to it) will slip right through the hole and disappear into the void inside you. 

And now what do you have? A pants-shaped hole that needs to be filled. 

One that gets a little bigger with each passing day. 

And since you know what kind of thing will fill that kind of hole, you’ll start to buy all sorts of pants, each time hoping this pair will be the one that blocks it up, that finishes the repair, that ends the need. 

It never is, though. 

Maybe this is the one? 

You’re searching for the perfect thing — the stylish object that will make you feel whole and beautiful, like a model in an ad.

You’re searching for what the marketing teaches you to search for — a way to fill the hole they drilled inside you. 

It’s not just pants. The same goes for consumer electronics, jewellery and watches, even cars and houses. 

As it turns out, a human heart can house an infinity of holes, and late-stage capitalism can furnish an infinity of stuff to fill them. 

Holes vs whole.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being filled with holes. 

I’d like to buy a nice, quality pair of pants that suit me, and wear them for a few years. I’ll buy new ones when the ones I’m wearing wear out. No void-filling needed. 

Or even better, I’d like not to buy any pants at all. 

I own many pairs already. None of them is perfect, but they do the job. 

The trouble is, we’ve built a white-hot global capitalist engine that requires endless growth and expansion to fuel and sustain itself.

We all need to buy more and more of everything, forever, or the whole thing collapses.

The hole thing. 

Undrillable skin.

The one way I’ve found to render myself impervious to the drilling of product-shaped holes is, unfortunately, pretty hard to come by. 

It’s also not sexy. Or a commodity. It’s not even cool. 

The thing that seems to stop the holes from getting made in the first place is this: 

Self-acceptance. 

I know. So lame. 

But also kind of radical.

It begins with caring for yourself.

Pushing back against the sick and sickening form of capitalism we’re all stuck inside at the moment seems to be possible only if you can learn that you’re enough exactly as you are.

No holes in you. No need to buy something else to be worthy and fill the void. Whole.

That may sound like pure self-centredness — but in my experience, the more whole and complete and good I feel, the more kindness and care I’m able to offer other people.

It’s tough to be a caring friend and lover and coworker and person when you’ve been drilled full of holes. It hurts. You can mostly only think about that.

I’ve still got holes all through me. I even drill them for a living. But I can imagine a better way, and I’m trying to reach it. It isn’t easy, but even the biggest holes can heal.