I'm recently back from a stay in a cabin on a lake, where Bruce and I canoed hither and yon most days. Like most northern lakes, the trees and shoreline tend to look the same from one corner to the next, and it's hard to describe where you want to go.
"Let's go where we went yesterday, up that big inlet" "The third one on the left, right?" "No, it was just past that island, the one with the dead tree."
To avoid spending long periods in such meaningless conversations, you quickly give names to such features as you can identify. Green Dockhouse point. Moose marsh. Otter bay. It's the only way to actually describe things.
I find the same thing happens at the gym. You learn a ton of cool exercises from a trainer or in a class which you can't remember when you go back in on your own. I have a workout buddy, and we have a lot of inane conversations like this:
"Let's do that thing where one leg is on the BOSU ball." "Where you do sit-ups" "No, not that one. The one where you are on your back"
To counter this problem, we are trying to give memorable names to the exercises. We learned one called "Dead Bug", and believe me, we remember how to do that one. It looks just like a dead bug.
We need names, we need acronyms, we need ways to remember and file things. And the more complex and similar the things we are trying to remember, the more critical the naming distinctions become.
(Doctors seem to know a gazillion acronyms for things -- no doubt because they need to remember a gazillion symptom lists, etc. Like RICE for soft tissue injuries - Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.)
I was thinking how meaningless many service product names are in this regard. Check out any bank website for good examples of this.
How do we use this knowledge of what people are like to improve the customer experience?