The following are approximately the first 1000 words from Chapter 16 of Jonar Nader’s book,
How to Lose Friends and Infuriate Lovers.

If A loves B, and B loves C, who loves me?

Optimising optimism

A Restricted Section implies content that is too hot to handle. Indeed, special care is required when contemplating the messages within this chapter that not only infuriates lovers, but also the establishment, the religious, and those for whom tradition is binding.

Have you noticed the skewed ways in which some products are advertised? Take luxury cars. In advertisements, the superbly polished vehicles are often driven by cool cats who live with loving families in impressive homes, surrounded by trendy friends. This is called aspirational advertising.

The same goes for lotteries and casinos. They promote their wares by showing us the one winner; not the ten million losers. We are tantalised, teased, and told that next time, we could be that one winner. What are the chances of winning? I could bet a million dollars that if I were to go down to the store now and purchase a lottery ticket, I would not win that illusive grand prize. All the odds are stacked against me, and against all the players. Only one in several million might win. Given that almost every experience ends badly, why do they still show us the fortunes of the minority? This seems like false advertising. They should not be allowed to sell a product by showing us what is least likely. I think they should advertise what is most likely. Take gambling and the way its products are promoted. Most gamblers will lose. Only one or two can win the grand prize. Yet, rather than showing us the most probable experience, we are shown what could happen if lady-luck were to smile upon us.

As a marketing professional, I am acutely aware of advertisements that are designed to lure the gullible and the credulous. I think of such examples because I know many gamblers whose lives are ruined. I find myself in awe of the ways in which casinos are designed and decorated. Many of the large casinos also boast conference facilities. For this reason, as a keynote speaker, I often find myself within the confines of these dangerous playgrounds. Walking through that type of artificial world, I watch, most intensely, the people, the promotions, and the promises. Win, Win, Win! Dollar signs flashing, luring, entrapping.

Observe for a moment, and you will see the hundreds of poor patrons who exit drearily, hauling their shattered dreams with them, only to return another day for ‘one last shot’. The most bizarre thing is that people do win. Not many. Not even a few. Just enough to entice everyone else. By allowing one to win, we raise everyone else’s hopes.

Love is equally alluring. It torments the masses while befriending a handful of people, showing us what might be possible if we only knew the secret passage to its inner sanctum.

Incidentally, I often wonder why gambling dens don’t show us how many people have lost their money — and how much was lost. Instead, when one player wins, it becomes headline news, and the collective agony and shame is swept under the carpet. I happened to be at a casino for a conference when I noticed the television cameras outside, waiting to interview and congratulate the high-roller who had won a million dollars. What a fuss. I had the urge to grab the cameraman and swivel him 180 degrees to pan the faces of the dozens who stood behind, wondering how they were going to afford the bus-fare home after an all-night poker spree. The skint fortune-hunters might not have realised that they were the ones who funded the nouveau riche.

You must have been asked this question: what would you do if you were to win the lottery? Try this old ice-breaker at your next gathering and note what people will say. Then consider your own response. I was once asked what I would do if I were filthy rich. I said that I would cause havoc. First, I would hire a team of a hundred people who, like surgeons, would always be on-call. They would be able to go anywhere and do anything, but whenever I called on them, they would have to drop everything and perform a small task for me, much like sleeper spies have to execute a duty when that coded message arrives. You see, I cannot stand it when service-providers excuse their insensitivity by telling me that, ‘No-one else has complained about that’ or ‘No-one else has asked for this’. I once attended a hideously bad concert. The performer was brilliant, but the concert hall at the five-star hotel was abysmal. I called the hotel to let them know that their venue was shocking. The lady said, ‘No-one else has complained’. Oh, how I wished that I could have released my team of complainers onto her. One, every hour on the hour, until she could no longer utter those words. I dream about my team when a waiter tells me that no other patron has asked for mineral water. Apparently, most non-drinkers are happy with cola or tap-water. If I so much as hint at my amazement, I am told, ‘No-one else has asked for mineral water. There’s no call for it.’ I would like to be rich enough to send my one hundred agents, who would each take a party of eight for dinner, every hour, on the hour, and upon being told that tap-water is the only option, they would stand up and leave the restaurant. At some point, the owner would have to think harder about the product mix. Amongst a well-stocked cellar that boasts sixty different types of red wine, how hard would it be to carry six bottles of decent water whose profit margin these days is greater than the average bottle of Shiraz?

What would you do if you were to win the lottery? I know some people whose answer is not only prepared, it is well considered and perfectly rehearsed and, in all seriousness, is ready for execution. They know precisely what they would do with their new-found wealth, down to the colour and pattern of the curtains in their new home. They know what brand their new car would be, and they even have their personalised number-plates all worked out. Deep inside their imagination, gamblers think that they might win, even though, deep inside their head, they know that they will not win.