Dopamine prediction error

Imagine I tell you, “We’re going to a restaurant, and it’s going to be the best place you’ve ever eaten at.” Now, I’ve set you up for a letdown. Even if it is the best restaurant, it won’t feel as great as it could have if I had just said nothing.

When you tell a kid, “We’re going to an ice cream shop!” their dopamine levels spike in excitement. But if the shop is closed when you arrive, their dopamine will drop below baseline, and they’ll feel worse than before.

Or say you tell your girlfriend, “We’re going to Costa Rica in a month.” Her dopamine levels will shoot up. But if you later cancel the trip because of work, she might recover the first time. Do it a second or third time, though, and she may never fully recover. Even if you finally go to Costa Rica, and it’s amazing, she’ll still feel like it wasn’t as good as she expected.

This has taught me to under-promise and over-deliver in my marketing. If I promise too much, even if I deliver, people will feel let down. If I promise too much and deliver less, they’ll likely dislike the experience.

I started applying this concept when advertising my services. Instead of making bold claims, I now set more modest expectations so that when a client has a great experience, their dopamine levels soar, and they’re more likely to return.

This approach might result in fewer customers at first, but it’s worth it in the long run because the retention rate of satisfied clients will be much higher.

I had a similar experience with Nelson. I expected it to be the worst two weeks of my life when I had to come here for two weeks for a work project, thinking I’d be stuck on the South Island for the summer. But when I arrived, I realised I was completely wrong. The unexpected joy released so much dopamine that I decided to stay for good! I literally never left.

The same could apply to you now. You might not enjoy Nelson as much because I’ve hyped it up so much, and your expectations are too high.

The lesson? It’s a mistake to tell people they’ll love something—whether it’s a book, dish, or experience. It’s better to say nothing. I’m starting to think reviews can even be problematic.

The same applies to dating apps. Next time I’m on Tinder or Bumble, I’ll choose the most unflattering photos and write the most boring and uninteresting bio ever. If someone still wants to meet, she’ll likely be pleasantly surprised, and her dopamine will spike, making her like me even more than she would have.

I’ve learned from personal experience how strong this effect can be. Once, I got catfished. The person wasn’t ugly, but because I was disappointed, I never wanted to see her again. The letdown was that powerful.