Marketing in the Age of the Jaded and the Gullible

Let me remind everyone that we live in a strange, exhausting time. On one side, you have the gullible: those business leaders who feel it’s their job to be the first to buy the latest and greatest shiny thing and then wax poetic about their tools and how they've "AI'd everything" via QR code. On the other, you have the jaded: those whose feet are still firmly rooted "above the line" and patiently wait for the imminent collapse of all things "application"—fads after all.

Between those two extremes lies a messy middle that feels increasingly narrow. Joke’s on us, as that’s the tightrope marketers are asked to walk: getting real messages through to buyers who are either allergic to belief or intoxicated by it.

The crisis of credibility

Marketers didn’t invent the credibility crisis, but we have certainly fed it. And when everyone around us is over-claiming (from politicians to pharmaceuticals), why would buyers assume your software pitch is any different?

At any given moment in B2B, half the market is already waiting for the next best thing, while the other half is still waiting for "real" offerings. Almost understandably, for many, the default assumption has become cynicism. Prospects read a white paper and think, “Sure, but who paid for this?” They see a case study and assume the testimonial was bought. They watch a demo video and suspect it was stitched together with smoke and mirrors.

It’s the starting line we inherit every time we write a campaign brief. Countless buyers come to us with their wariness meter set to eleven.

2D vs. 3D

The good news is that real-world experience still cuts through the noise. People soften when they encounter authenticity in three dimensions, rather than stereotypes. Think of a police officer who takes your stolen-car report and treats you like a human, not a case number, and a moment of empathy rewires your assumptions.

The same principle applies in B2B. If you tell a prospect, “We don’t solve that problem. You’ll need someone else,” they don’t write you off; they lean in because you just proved you’re not another vendor blasting exaggerated promises. Look at that! You’re a partner who knows your lane and stays in it.

With a little bit of effort, we can shift from cartoon cutouts to messy, human characters, businesses, and brands. To borrow from music: the Eagles are technically flawless but boring. Audiences prefer edges, quirks, even dissonance. Perfection signals inauthenticity, and inauthenticity does not sell.

Consumer brands figured this out years ago, embracing personality, weirdness, and imperfection. But in B2B, the stakes are higher. It’s not about buying a hamburger; it’s about buying the franchise. One wrong move risks millions, not $7.99.

B2B is terrified of risk. Which means every word in a campaign is filtered through brand, compliance, legal, and committee consensus. By the time it emerges, the message has been sanded smooth. The result is sanitized, promises the world, and convinces no one, or isn’t interesting enough to read in the first place.

ABM as the escape hatch

ABM offers us a lifeline. It narrows the aperture, instead of shouting one-size-fits-all promises into the void. Enter candor, specificity, and relevance.

Instead of “We drive efficiency,” try this on for size: 

“I know your role, and I know your risks. Your real competitor isn’t another vendor, it’s inertia. The status quo feels safer than putting your neck out for a new partner. So here’s what we can realistically deliver. Not miracles—but this specific outcome, proven by your peers. We can start small and slow and ramp over time as results come in.”

That’s a message someone can believe. It acknowledges doubt and meets it head-on with a certain amount of humility. And it’s personal.

Now, words alone won’t convince the jaded. You need proof. Small, tangible results replacing glossy decks. Shelve your seven-figure transformation pitch and start with the five-figure pilot that proves your value in weeks instead of years.

It’s the business version of “put your hand in the wound.” Don’t just tell me it works, let me feel it. If it delivers, we’ll expand. If it doesn’t, no harm, no foul. Realism and risk reduction win deals and build trust for more. It's not being cynical, it's sane premise checking.

Which brings me back to imperfection. Modern buyers pick believable over flawless. That means you can drop the veneer of brand-sanitized messaging. It means that you can admit what you don’t do, on top of what you do. It means you can use language that sounds like a person rather than a committee.

Three ingredients for cutting through

If you’re trying to reach an audience split between the jaded and the gullible, here’s the recipe. Combined, these ingredients earn attention, even if they don’t guarantee belief, and that’s still half the battle:

1. Personalization. Narrow your focus. Show that you understand their industry, their roles, their anxieties, and their goals. Speak their language and avoid your internal jargon.
   

2. Proof. Replace sweeping claims with specific outcomes. Use pilots, case studies, and analogies with peers. Give them something they can touch, instead of just something they can imagine.
   

3. Imperfection. Embrace edges. Allow for flaws. Show that your message wasn’t assembled by ten lawyers and a brand committee, and signal reality.

   
   

The AI wildcard

Before I sign off, greetings to the elephant in the room. No conversation about credibility can ignore AI, just like no conversation about anything right now can ignore AI. Here’s my take:

In the short term, AI makes marketers incredibly powerful. We can scale personalization, generate insights faster, and stretch creative output to previously impossible levels. The risk is, of course, that AI churns out more unbelievable claims and superficial whatever’s and that buyers retreat further into cynicism; but, thankfully, you and I are better than that. No, we’ll kill it.

And AI will make CMO superheroes of us all. That is, until the day HAL refuses to open the pod bay doors and we drift off into the night. But why dwell on that with me?

Hop onto the tightrope

Will my tactics (now yours) magically heal the divide between the gullible and the jaded? Will they heal the world? Probably not. But marketers don’t need to solve society’s trust crisis; we just need to navigate it. And, as far as you are concerned, your job isn’t to make everyone believe but to create enough credibility for the right people to engage.

Borrowing from David Ogilvy’s wisdom a long time ago: stop treating audiences like idiots to be duped or cynics to be tricked. You’re a buyer too. Remember what it’s like when you’re at the receiving end of endless advertising and why you became jaded—or started to believe everything.