I love living in a condo with a balcony. I like saying that it’s the most expensive treehouse I’ve ever owned.
In the more pleasant months, it’s my outdoor kitchen–I’m not quite bold enough to grill outdoors 12 months a year. Thanks to a flat extension cord that fits under the window, it becomes an office as well, or just a place to relax and get some fresh air while surfing the web. In the past, when I was more active in woodworking projects and the like, it’s been my workshop. And, when the weather turns cold, it serves as extra storage space for bulky, heavy things like air conditioners.
I was talking with our neighbor last night, and he commented that he doesn’t tend to use his that much; certainly not as much as me. “I guess I’m just not a balcony person,” he said.
But for me, a balcony–or any outdoor space, really, like a deck or patio–is now what you might term a “key decision criterion.” That is, it’s something absolutely essential in making a choice: if I were looking for a new condo or a new house, I absolutely would not buy one that didn’t have an outdoor space, no matter how many other appealing features it had.
It’s important to make the distinction between key decision criteria and “nice-to-haves.” I also love having a car with a sunroof, and so, when I’m searching for cars online, I always add “sunroof” as an additional key parameter, but I’m flexible on things like color. I might like silver better than green, but given a green car with a sunroof and a silver car without, I’ll go with the green one.
Key decision criteria are usually pretty obvious–if you have a family of 4, then your new car is going to need to have at least 4 seats; if your job is in Boston, your house needs to be in a nearby location. But when you’re selling a product, the challenge is identifying those specific and non-standard decision criteria that might keep you from making a sale. Once upon a time, a cell phone camera was a neat option. Good luck selling a phone that doesn’t have one today!
As I write this, it occurs to me that there are definitely degrees of “essential-ness,” and you might be convinced to bend on something you consider a key criteria, given an unusual enough circumstance. That family of 4 might buy a 2-seat sports car if it came with a free minivan. I might buy a condo in New York City if it came with a free helicopter that would take me to work in Boston every day.
Or, to be a little less extreme, a really large condo selling well below market value in a great location with included parking and a brand-new interior–but no balcony–might end up on my short list. I would probably need access to the roof deck, though.