First and last

When I was in training to become a flight instructor we had to learn some applied psychology. Two elements of this realm seemed to form opposite ends of the same cigar, so I’m going to slouch in my beach chair today and ponder this stuff.

At one end was the “law of primacy.” This referred to the deep impression created by the first exposure to something. That’s no surprise. The power of first impressions is so well-known that it’s cliché.

At the other end was the “law of recency.” This, as the name suggests, meant that something learned more recently was more apt to be recalled. I don’t know if there are any clichés linked to this, but we all know that fresh information comes to mind better than the stale stuff does. Life is, among other things, a long struggle of constantly reviewing things, at least if you’re in a challenging profession.

In summary, both first impressions and last impressions play powerful roles in our learning.

I’ve been trying to conjure up a single case that satisfies both of these factors. I think my college days can be mined for an example.

When I was in college some energetic marketeer gave us samples of various products, including, notably, a dishwashing detergent. I was living in the dorms at the time and didn’t even have a kitchen. Paradoxically enough, this redounded to the advantage of the dish detergent. Since I had no kitchen, and since I therefore had never bought dish detergent before, the sample was the first time I had actually owned any of the stuff. Looking for primacy? There it was. I’d wash my coffee cup in the dorm’s bathroom sink.

Anyway, out of habit and a sense of gratitude, I bought that brand of dish detergent for well over a decade, at least on the rare occasions where I’d actually go to a store to buy anything more than coffee and Skoal.

Score one for the law of primacy.

Alas, the law of recency began to overtake it. The halcyon days of having a bachelor’s kitchen are as dim as the glow of the Big Bang, and only the residual radiation, ever fading, remains. My influence in the kitchen, or anything else of domestic or financial significance, is only nominal. What brand of dish detergent do we use? We use a brand that’s different from my college brand (I feel like a traitor; but it wasn’t my choice). The “new” brand now has a tenure that’s measured in decades.

As for the old brand, it used to be the first name that came to mind if I heard a reference to dish detergent. The label, in fact, would flash in my mind’s eye whenever I’d consider the topic. Now, however, it has lost that status. The new brand is there now, even though I have no particular affinity for it, and even though I’ve never put it in a shopping cart. It’s at the top of the mental roster simply because it’s what I’ve seen in recent years.

So score one for recency. Well, I guess. I don’t really know if this is a good example or not, but it’s the best I could do when trying to balance something against the primacy gig.

With this in mind, I called one of my old dorm mates, someone who was given the same array of samples that I was. He doesn’t remember the dish detergent at all. He does, however, remember a shampoo sample. Shampoo? I don’t remember that, but I do remember the brand I took up to school with me. Apparently, then, the sample brand of shampoo never got a chance to dig its hooks of primacy into me like the dish detergent did.

Where does all of this lead? I have no idea.

But it does reinforce an old notion in tourism, where you want to ensure that your customers have a good first impression and a good final impression of their visit. If there’s going to be a hiccup in things, it will hopefully occur somewhere in the middle, where it can be washed out by more favorable experiences at the primary and at the recent ends of the time line.

Speaking of washed out, I have to go now. I’m being told to stir myself from my chair so I can do the dishes. Primacy, recency, whatever: Some things never change.