The functional job of your product might be the least interesting thing about it

A pregnancy test tells you whether hCG has been detected.

Technically.

But that feels like such a spectacularly inadequate description of what a pregnancy test can actually be.

For one person it is excitement. For another it is absolute terror. For someone who has been trying to conceive for years it can carry an extraordinary amount of hope and grief in a piece of plastic they are simultaneously desperate to use and terrified to look at.

I went through IVF, so this is one I feel particularly strongly about. There are products that businesses understandably think about in functional terms because function is what the product literally does, while the person using it is having an experience that is about a hundred times bigger.

And I see this everywhere, particularly in health.

Incontinence products technically deal with leaks. Menopause products technically address symptoms. Condoms technically prevent pregnancy and reduce STI transmission. But people aren’t living inside technical product descriptions.

There is identity involved. Shame. Desire. Ageing. Confidence. Relationships. Fear. Freedom. How someone feels about their body. How they think other people see them.

That doesn't mean every brand needs to turn itself into a therapist or produce an emotional manifesto.

It means understanding the actual job your product is doing in somebody’s life, including the bits that don’t appear on the pack.

Sometimes the biggest opportunity isn’t improving the functional product at all.

It is finally understanding the human experience surrounding it.