The ASMR of Emptiness

We hadn’t really noticed, but over the past few months we’ve all but reached the pinnacle of the American Dream—a Technicolor dream from the 1960s that promised a future of automation, convenience, and wonderfully easy living. Artificial intelligence has become our personal advisor for managing every facet of life, even complimenting us along the way, marveling at us, and instilling confidence in the decisions it makes on our behalf. Truly, everything has become effortless: a confident tap of a button, a swipe of a finger on a screen, a quick face scan, and we enter a hyperactive shopping experience with endless add-ons, upgrades, and accessory products. Yet like in any good movie, these sweet and easy days also burden us, potential customers, with a fair share of hidden dilemmas and unknown riddles. They are weighty enough that we must resolve them in the next few minutes of reading.

The Emotional Squeeze

In the mall near our home, two sleek new stores have opened for freshly squeezed “health juices,” straight from the freezer: one belongs to the “The Juice Caboose” chain, and the other to “Loose Juice.” The colors of both stores are impeccably vibrant: “Loose Juice” is branded in green and pink, evoking strawberries, while “The Juice Caboose” is emblazoned with bold orange and heavenly sky-blue. Though these are clearly different brands, thoroughly differentiated no doubt, we customers can draw some parallels between them. Recently, both chains have installed 3-4 giant tablet screens, displayed in dazzling Retina colors, standing before us like barriers between us and the hidden world of fruit kitchens, ingredients, and employees behind the counter. The purchasing experience at these screens is spectacular, easy, colorful, so user-friendly and heartwarming. Each juice is presented so fresh and lively, with water splashes and airborne fruit chunks that plummet, smoothie-style, into the cup. The brand-colored “thank you” after payment gives us a warm, fuzzy feeling.

But the experience doesn’t end here. As in any “cuisine” restaurant, we get a faithful glimpse into the hidden workings of the automated juice machine: the employees, the so-called “health experts” at “The Juice Caboose,” from various ethnic backgrounds, chat among themselves in a language we don’t understand. We watch them, but they seem not to notice us. They toss used blending containers into the stainless-steel sinks with a loud, metallic clank. One hand confidently opens the fridge, while the other pulls a fresh container from a metal cabinet. There they go again, throwing ingredients into the blender, occasionally checking the damp order receipt affixed to the blending container, adding another small handful of healthy macadamia nuts. In both stores, we witness a true artisanal mechanism—an efficient human system of juice concoction, a masterful craft that will soon be crushed into a cold, healthy, colorful, life-extending juice. Then the output arrives: one of the employees half-shouts our name in a questioning tone, drops the eco-friendly cup on the counter, and places a straw beside it. That’s it, the pleasant little interaction is over, and the human mechanism returns to concocting the next mix, following the printouts spat out by tablets that never rest.

In these two healthy juice chains, prices are virtually the same and both sit on the same floor of the mall, a mere 100 meters from each other. The colorful menu selection also seems identical. After all, once you grind up all the ingredients, doesn’t everything taste about the same? Like my mom used to say: “Eat what’s on your plate! Don’t worry—everything ends up the same in your stomach.” And so our lives are clouded by the ultimate dilemma: We arrived on the second floor of the mall, craving a healthy juice. Which brand shall we trek to for quenching our thirst?

The Clockworked Polished Path to Efficiency

I’m reminded of when I was a kid going to get my hair cut at “Jenny's Salon” (there was no such thing as separate women’s or men’s salons back then—nor dog salons, for that matter). Pastel-colored walls, curls, blowouts, manicures, and pedicures—all ran under one roof. The neighborhood women would sit calmly with a classic blow-dryer covering their entire head, flipping through a random beauty magazine they pulled from the stack on a table. Jenny, the owner, would cut my hair, addressing me in the third person through my mother, who would answer for me. Yes, my mother sat right next to me while Linda, Jenny's daughter, did her manicure at the same time. That was my experience. But for my mother, it was the highlight of her month—the real “high point.” She had so much to share with Linda: everything that had happened that week, what she was cooking for the weekend, a new rumor in the neighborhood about the woman who got divorced. She was very curious about Linda's latest mysterious facial-care treatment in development, plus Linda's golden advice about dealing with the rude neighbor on the third floor. Linda would nod, listen, make firm judgments on a variety of topics, and in the end they’d all leave smiling. My mom used to say: “It’s much more than hair and nails; it’s basically therapy.”

But times have changed. We’re no longer in the last century, and instead of “Jenny's Salon” with chatty employees, we now have “Clockwork”—a huge black machine offering an automated manicure, giving you a ten-finger polish in ten minutes. No need to schedule an appointment, or to look a manicurist in the eye and banter with her for half an hour to an hour. You can simply hop into a mall or airport kiosk, and once the machine is free, you sit down, choose a polish color from an infinite palette, pay, pick up a small polish container, place it in the machine, and the magic begins. Suddenly, though, a pang of existential anxiety creeps up—the lonely feeling of being isolated. Will we just sit there, waiting idly for ten minutes with only our own thoughts? That’s the trick: sure, one hand is stuck in the machine, but the other is free to firmly grip our phone, an entire world of endless feeds, status updates like “doing my nails at the automatic manicure,” and a deep dive into WhatsApp gossip about that couple who split up, new clothes on sale, a TikTok cookie-blondies recipe, or the latest rumor about some rapper. So ten minutes are fully utilized, not to mention the fifty minutes of unnecessary chatting we saved. We get up, snap an Instagram update of our newly polished fingers, and go on our merry way.

I hope you didn’t wait too long—here comes the second earth-shattering dilemma gnawing at our peace of mind: What shall we do about our nails, our precious time, and our psychological well-being? We’ve arrived at a crossroads: do we schedule an appointment with the manicurist, go to her (or have her come to us for a home visit and a personal chat)? Do we try to find the nearest location in the U.S. with this wondrous automatic manicure device, drive or even fly there, saving ourselves precious time and pointless chitchat? Or just resort to a home nail kit (where the obvious drawback is that there’s no free hand available to hold the phone)?

The Bank Billboard Mirage

We’re on our way home from work, glaring at the endless traffic jams and the cunning drivers zigzagging from lane to lane in a futile attempt to gain ground. Giant billboards flicker before us in bright colors, offering deals we supposedly can’t refuse. We get to a red light and see the first billboard glowing with a neon-green gradient for “Bank Alpha,” featuring the model Shelly outovcash with an amazing smile and green eyes that perfectly match the brand’s color. Next to her, the promise reads: “We guarantee a human response within 24 hours!”—and in very small print, almost invisible, it says: “Subject to business-day schedules, excluding holidays and weekends.”

Shelly outovcash looks so perfect up there, and for a moment, a sweet, childlike thought crosses our minds: “Maybe if we go to the bank, we’ll get a personal response from someone like her? Maybe Shelly will actually answer us in the next call?” The light turns green; we shake our heads to dispel the silly fantasy and keep going. We manage to turn right at the next street, and—boom—another giant billboard, this time for Bank Beta, in YInMn blue branding. The model gazing at us is the beloved Australian film star Bucks Allgone, with (guess which color) eyes and a winning smile. We have time, the traffic is awful, and we observe each of his perly teeth in detail, thinking, “Yes, that’s quite a guy.” Bucks extends his arm in an assertive invitation, something like Uncle Sam’s “I want YOU,” with the text above him: “A personal banking representative, tailored to everything you need.” At that moment, we decide it’s good to be Bucks Allgone, or at least as successful, rich, and happy as he is. Bank Beta, we conclude, must be our proven blue path to success.

The journey continues, we crawl around the main roundabout, where a massive digital billboard stands in the center (yes, digital, with animations and blaring music), shining so bright you can see it from a kilometer away. Bank Gamma makes us forget everything else—before us are the two ultimate heroes: the celebrated Chinese chef Hai Oh Yu and the famous businesswoman Dinah Bankrupt in all her glory, each clutching a luxury coat draped over a pointed index finger. A blazing orange hue bursts from the black background, reminiscent of a powerful lava flow from a volcano’s mouth. In hundreds of cinematic cuts and polished editing of smiles, meaningful glances, and choreographed moves that radiate confidence, we see Bank Gamma’s fiery promise: “AI-powered service from the heart and with a smile.” Ah, our lives are unbearable; Waze says we’ll reach home only in 18 minutes. That’s 18 whole minutes in which we must debate which bank will safeguard our money so that we can receive personal, human, and instant service. This is a high-stakes dilemma with countless variables to weigh: what color appeals to our autopilot mind, which model’s persona conveys values of luxury, reliability, and success—and we haven’t even mentioned the unique positioning we want for ourselves. Why not? We deserve it. And sure, there’s also that fundamental aspect of good service—but if everyone promises stellar service, all that’s left is to agonize between eye colors and catchy slogans.

The Brand Is Naked

All these stories—from the automatic juice, through the automated manicure, to the bank billboards—are just links in a long chain of anecdotes currently defining our everyday experience. We’re flooded with one-dimensional visual messages that have turned brands into a colorful illusion and monotonous communication: sparse in content but saturated with ASMR gimmicks, flashy graphics, and dazzling celebrities. Right here, beneath all the glittery promises and attempts to impress us with colors and models, we discover a deeper problem: brands have turned into attractive wrappings, yet empty of genuine human content.

“In a digital age, human touch has become a luxury enclave.” —Chip Conley

It seems that a process has taken place in our world where everything now looks the same, while the real, tangible value behind the shiny façade becomes less and less apparent.

Emotional connection decline: only 54% of customers feel an emotional bond with brands in 2024, down from 62% in 2022 (Salesforce). The branding world is undergoing sterilization of every human component, leaving these brands lifeless and soulless. No depth, no spirit, no human encounter that fosters a sense of “there’s someone home.” Under pressure to innovate, to create a glittering experience, and to dazzle at annual branding conventions, brands sink into a plastic veneer—doing everything “by the book,” following the worn-out “pre-Covid branding” manual, continuing along the same old path. Once this sterilization becomes routine, the brand loses its DNA.

The result? The more vibrant the packaging and the flashier the messages, the less the customer feels a true connection. As for those healthy juice brands, which one do we choose? The one closest to us at that moment.

Banks (or, for that matter, HMOs, insurance companies, car-leasing and rental firms) featuring distinct colors, celebrities, and promises? The story repeats: colorful promises of “personal service” and “human response” crumble in the face of exasperating wait times, apathetic customer-service reps, and maddening bureaucracy.

It seems the main resources go into glamorous branding and expensive ad campaigns, not into improving your simplest, most basic customer experience. The gap between the mesmerizing billboards starring charming models, affluent cooks, and breathtaking visual effects, and the reality of actual service, has already become our norm—we all know it’s a façade, yet we put up with it.

So, what do we choose? Probably to switch to P2P banks that promise fewer fees, more transparency, and more readily available phone customer service.

Of course, let’s not overlook the automated manicure startup: the idea’s cool, but in my opinion, the real “magic” in a manicure is the chat, the random free-association talk, the human bond for half an hour (or maybe more) with your personal “Wailing Wall.”

If you cut that out, what’s left? A DIY Ikea-style solution next to a big, soulless black machine, where you stare for 10 minutes in a booth. A manicurist or cosmetician? Sure, it’s about the grooming itself, but the real essence is the connection.

“Automation is replacing the routine, not the human.” —Daniel H. Pink

Marketing professionals and consumer-psychology experts have long recognized that genuine service, authentic connection, and sincere values are what enable a brand to become a super-brand.

Personalized empathy strengthens retention: McKinsey’s 2024 study found that 68% of customers develop stronger loyalty after emotionally resonant human interactions—like going the extra mile for a grieving customer, or refunding them with real empathy.

Similarly, Bond’s 2024 Loyalty Report reveals that 79% of consumers are more likely to recommend brands where employees make them feel “recognized.” It’s not old-school romanticism—this is modern emotional economics, anchored in trust and personal experience.

Moreover, Sector-specific demand for human touch indicates that customer loyalty is notably higher in restaurants (58%), financial services (55%), and hotels (52%), according to a PwC report from 2022 (updated 2024).

In other words, precisely where we need human interaction most, many organizations have chosen to head for screens and automation alone.

Here we find a paradox: on the one hand, advanced retail chains aim to cut queues and promise a smooth “push-button” experience.

On the other, 64% of consumers are already demanding more human interaction in digital channels (CoreMedia, 2024).

This wave of automation can become a gilded cage—shiny and alluring from the outside, but leaving behind loneliness and alienation within.

We no longer live in an era where the person works for the brand. If a brand wants to last, it must work for the person—addressing real needs, building an environment of warmth and care, and returning to genuine human relationships.

At a deeper level, the newer generations, like Gen Z and Gen Alpha, aren’t satisfied with mere superficial branding. They want real values and genuine connection, and even if sometimes it appears they can be “sold” quickly, the need for a core human bond, tangible service, and the feeling that the brand actually hears them is not going anywhere. A brand that doesn’t understand this might discover that while chasing “technological innovation,” it has emptied itself of authentic human substance—until it ceases to matter.

This is the key point: we must breathe life back into the brand, and trust that blending technological efficiency with genuine human qualities can deliver a much deeper competitive advantage than another glittery ASMR display.

Between Tech-Fest and Emotional Disconnection: The Illusion of Automation

Right here, in all the excitement over technological progress, we encounter another issue: On the surface, it looks dazzling: no lines, the customer scans themselves, picks items, and leaves without waiting at the register. Chains like Amazon Go in the U.S. and Rebar or Super-Pharm in Israel demonstrate how AI, IoT, and digital payments can streamline the buying process into a “click-and-you’re-done” experience. For marketing professionals, this vision offers endless opportunities to collect data, tailor personal offers, and convey an image of technological innovation.

But beneath the futuristic aura, serious questions arise: are we sacrificing human contact, the chance for a smile, or a conversation with an employee who truly listens?

A Deloitte (2024) study shows that most shoppers still prefer face-to-face interactions in physical stores—even if they use digital channels to gather info beforehand. That means enthusiasm for automation can’t stand alone: without the right balance between technological efficiency and warm human interaction, you risk creating a quick but detached shopping experience, thus losing the deeper connection that lets brands thrive in the long run.

“Technology for technology’s sake is a dangerous path. We must always ask ourselves, ‘What is the human purpose?’” —Brian Solis

Effects on Us and on Brands: Loneliness, Exploitation, and Lack of Loyalty

Looking deeper at the consequences of brands that choose “show” over humanity, we see two sides losing out:

We, the Consumers

• Hidden loneliness: Instead of finding a listening ear or someone who cares about us, we’re left with screens, voice prompts, and automated services. There’s no real conversation, and our need for recognition, warm and respectful treatment, or even a hug (digital or otherwise) goes unmet.

• Feeling of deception and exploitation: Each time our reality collides with our expectations, cynicism grows. Whenever we encounter such a brand, we leave feeling duped, almost exploited, facing a paradoxical loneliness in what’s supposed to be a “pleasant” interaction. The grand, appealing promises look like a polished scam. It’s reminiscent of “shrinkflation,” when shiny, oversized packaging reveals, once opened, more air than product—our frustration naturally increases.

The Brands Themselves

• Loss of uniqueness: If the essence differentiating Brand A from Brand B is just a different model in the ad or a marginally altered logo color, in the end “it all ends up the same in the stomach,” or once you finally receive the product or service—you discover it’s the same empty brand in just another “ASMR-like” guise.

• Diminishing long-term value: Without an emotional bond, a brand’s worth erodes over time. Generating buzz around technology or a flashy ad might boost sales for a moment but won’t establish lasting loyalty.

• Heightened sensitivity to competition: A brand lacking the backbone of genuine humanity—organizational culture, service, truly listening to customers—could easily falter in the face of new trends or low-priced competitors.

• Quiet customer drift: When such disappointment repeats, customers realize they’ve been taken by yet another flashy gimmick that’s hollow inside, and they become all the more indifferent and lonely. This fosters a silent exit by customers that the brand doesn’t really notice, being too preoccupied luring “new customers” instead of retaining existing ones.

And so we arrive at an era where juice chains are basically automated “human beverage machines” on the corner, banks become service centers where we hardly dare ask for help, and health funds and insurance companies collapse under more and more automated systems—trying to cut costs on one hand and look “modern” on the other. And what’s left of the “brand”? A nice package, a catchy jingle—and not much else.

Signs of an Alternative: Human-Centered Service That Restores Trust

A company operating without a genuine human element—without warmth, connection, and caring—removes itself from the natural balance of reality. Pure automation poses a risk of alienation and the loss of belonging, which can erode social ties and job satisfaction. The consumer, instead of being part of a process with emotional value, becomes a passive object in a cold, impersonal system.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. The key is not to wage war on technology, but to integrate it wisely. This is the Connection-Powered model, in which technological progress serves human values of connection, collaboration, and empathy. It’s vital to ensure the customer feels connected, supported, and valued as part of a community—not just another “point of sale.”

We no longer live in an era where the person works for the brand. If a brand wants to last, it must work for the person—addressing real needs, building an environment of warmth and care, and returning to genuine human relationships.

Real-life examples:

Jumbo – “Chatty Checkouts” in the Netherlands

In 2019, the Dutch supermarket chain “Jumbo” introduced slower “chat checkouts,” letting customers pay and pack in a relaxed way—and also talk to the cashier. The goal was to combat growing loneliness, especially among seniors. Today, around 200 out of 700 Jumbo stores have these chatty checkouts, along with coffee corners and staff training so they can identify signs of distress or loneliness.

According to local surveys, one in ten people in the Netherlands feels lonely, rising to one in three among adults over 75. Installing these chatty checkouts transformed the supermarket from a tense, impersonal place into a genuinely communal space—somewhere there’s both time and room for conversation, not just a machine scanning items.

This isn’t a call to abandon technology, but rather to shape it into a tool that reinforces human connection and serves the stakeholders’ best interests.

Tablo in Italy – Shared Meals Among Strangers

This platform connects people who wish to meet up for a meal or a drink and provides conversation starters and short activities. It forms a kind of social club reminding us that we can still share a table with a stranger, talk, get to know each other, and once again feel part of a living community.

“Innovation is about more than just technology, it’s about connecting with people in meaningful ways.” —Brian Solis

The alternative is clear: the right kind of automation doesn’t reject technology but uses it to strengthen human relationships. Merging technological advancement with human values creates a sense of “togetherness” rather than just another flashy screen.

Future organizations will rely on principles of familial closeness and mutual responsibility, aiming not only to sell but to form a tight-knit community. We should shift from a business mentality based on exploiting needs to one founded on mutual support and genuine customer care.

A Living, Breathing Brand: How to Turn It into a Powerful Force

In an era when consumers are bombarded with ads, promotions, and algorithms vying for their attention, success is no longer measured by the number of likes or sheer marketing clamor. Brands that endure, evolve, and leave a mark aren’t just selling products—they’re building a real bond. That bond isn’t a trend; it’s the core of the business. A brand that fails to become a place of trust, engagement, and belonging is doomed to brief relevance before being forgotten.

It’s Not About Attention—It’s About Connection

Most brands still operate under the outdated assumption that a customer is a static target that needs to be “captured.” In practice, consumers today look for partnership: a place that makes them feel part of something meaningful. Brands that succeed don’t ask, “How can we stand out more?” but rather, “How can we truly become part of the people’s lives we serve?”

So before launching a new app or pouring money into a flashy campaign, the guiding questions should be:

• How does this strengthen the human connection?

• Does it truly serve the customer’s best interest, rather than just boosting quarterly reports?

• Does it build a community, or merely chase more followers?

A successful brand becomes a “home of the heart” for the consumer—a space where they find safety, understanding, and a sense of belonging.

Technology Is a Tool—Not a Substitute

The digital world has made brands more accessible than ever, yet also colder and more impersonal. It’s easy to lose human warmth behind automation, bots, and high-tech interfaces. So the question isn’t “How do we become more efficient?” but “How do we use technology to be closer to people?”

• Algorithms should free up time for human contact, not replace it.

• AI should empower conversations between people, not silence them.

• The smartest technology is the one that builds trust, not just sales.

Consumers aren’t craving another speedy chatbot or faceless customer-service system. They’re looking for experiences that remind them they matter—not just as walking wallets, but as human beings.

Brands That Don’t Listen—Disappear

Far too many brands focus on “what we want to say” rather than “what the customer truly needs.” But those who really listen realize that customers aren’t just seeking a product or service—they seek meaning, security, connection.

Key questions include:

• What are people truly missing? Not at the product level, but the emotional one.

• How can we create lasting value for them, not just a quick fix to a short-term need, but a space that genuinely benefits them long-term?

• How can the brand be a place of support and sharing, not just another “service provider” but a community-builder?

The same principle applies internally. Organizations that foster a culture of connection in the workplace see major improvements in employee engagement, loyalty, and productivity.

A Brand Starts on the Inside—Or It Won’t Exist on the Outside

A brand isn’t just what it says about itself; it’s what its employees actually project. If a company cultivates internal alienation, chilly relationships among teams, and the notion that people are just numbers, the customers will sense it. Conversely, organizations where employees experience a culture of partnership, caring, and connection convey those same values outward.

• A work environment based on connection produces committed employees—and they’re the ones who build truly human brands.

• Training staff in the Connection-Powered approach creates not mere “customer-service reps” but genuine ambassadors of customer rapport.

• A brand that doesn’t invest in internal connection cannot form an authentic bond with its audience.

Brands that understand the paradox of our time—that the more automated the world gets, the more we value unprogrammed human moments—will be the ones that lead both the market and the heart.

Brands That Transform into Communities—Don’t Vanish

The future belongs to brands that know how to turn customers into participants—not passive consumers but a community that feels inseparable from the brand and its values. How is that done?

• Not just discounts and special offers, but gatherings and events that unite people around a common cause.

• Not just publishing customer experiences, but creating platforms for real dialogue—a place where customers have a voice.

• Not just selling a product, but building an emotional experience worth being part of.

Brands that understand this don’t struggle to stay relevant—they simply become places people don’t want to leave.

The Business Future Isn’t Robotic—It’s Human

The more digital the world becomes, the more crucial genuine human connections will be. The leading brands won’t be the ones selling faster but those that bring people closer together. Because in an age where anyone can offer a product or service, only those who forge a real bond will prevail.

Bringing the Heart Back to the Center

John Naisbitt, author of “Megatrends,” identified the tension between “High Tech” (advanced technology) and “High Touch” (human contact) as far back as the 1980s. The more technology seeps into our lives, making them streamlined and automated, the more our basic human need for genuine connection, community, compassion, and authenticity grows.

Today, amid a digital revolution that hasn’t stopped at mere automation but has infiltrated nearly every aspect of our lives, we see how right Naisbitt was: brands are increasingly resembling fast-food chains—glitzy on the outside yet empty within. They might accelerate “experiences” with shiny screens and sophisticated algorithms, but the vast space left behind craves genuine human enrichment.

This isn’t a call to abandon technology, but rather to shape it into a tool that reinforces human connection and focuses on the stakeholders’ best interests. If businesses want to survive and thrive, they must transform every digital touchpoint into an invitation to connect. Not another “soft branding” or PR campaign, but a deep organizational change: training employees as “empathy ambassadors,” designing spaces that foster conversation, and developing technology that recognizes not just consumer preferences but emotional needs as well.

The world is awakening: people don’t want to be a statistic in a consumer system making “decisions” based on algorithms. They’re seeking experiences that bring them closer, not products that isolate them. Brands that grasp this will lead the next generation, because instead of competing for attention, they’ll become a space the customer chooses to be part of.

We no longer live in an era where the person works for the brand. If a brand wants to last, it must work for the person—addressing real needs, building an environment of warmth and care, returning to the heart of it all: genuine human relationships.

Brands that recognize the paradox of our time—that the more automated the world gets, the more valuable unprogrammed human moments become—will be the ones that lead both the market and the heart. In an age where ChatGPT writes poetry and robots serve coffee, the distinctly human ability to listen, shed a tear, or break convention in a random conversation has become our most coveted luxury. Those who nurture it, giving it room to flourish, will not just survive but blossom into sanctuaries of meaning in a world hungry for genuine connection.