I was thinking this morning that observing qualitative research is like listening to songs on shuffle. See, my iPod is broken, sort of. About halfway through my 5 AM running ritual, the Hold button activates, and I can either proceed in silence or release control and let the songs play on without direction from me, the powerless listener. Some people consider Shuffle the greatest invention since CDs themselves, but I am still waiting for Apple to bring me what I really want: Repeat. I love the depth and intensity that come from listening and re-listening to the same songs. Just like when I relive certain focus groups and review the notes during analysis. The synthesis that occurs results in something greater than the pieces we began with.
But back to Shuffle and focus groups: you never know which group will walk through the door next: the invigorating, energized women eager to share their fresh ideas, the exhausted, overworked average Americans who can barely muster interest in your concepts aimed at making their lives less taxing. Whomever comes into our room has value though, and it is imperative that we remember this. Even songs we find difficult to hear–they conjure a painful memory or offer a rhythm we simply cannot dance to–have been deemed worthy along the way by someone, somewhere.