Third-pound burger shows Americans' hunger for bad math

 

Two things are largely true about Americans:

• We like hamburgers.
• We're not great at math.

So is it any wonder that the 1/3-pound burger from A&W failed in the 1980s and was relaunched as the 3/9-pound burger this year?

America's response: Finally, a burger bigger than the McDonald's Quarter Pounder!

The short version of what has become a legendary American marketing story: In the 1980s, A&W decided to launch an attack on McDonald's by offering a bigger burger. Instead of a Quarter Pounder, folks could go to A&W and get a 1/3-Pounder, which everyone knows is more than 8% bigger than a Quarter Pounder. Because one-third is more than one-fourth.

Except everyone doesn't know that. Everyone doesn't know that one-third is bigger than one-fourth.

We know that because the burger failed and A&W's marketing tests revealed that more than half of test subjects thought A&W was trying to rip them off by charging the same amount for a one-third-pound burger as McDonald's does for a Quarter Pounder. Because four is more than three, right?

The outrage!

Well, decades later, A&W is trying to correct that misconception (and mock the math abilities of many customers) by offering the 3/9-pound burger, which as we (allegedly) learned in school can be reduced to 1/3-pound. A&W is betting that people will see a 3/9-pound burger and realized it's bigger than a Quarter Pounder. Because it is.

Also because 3 is bigger than 1 and 9 is bigger than 4. So 3/9 is obviously  bigger than 1/4.

There's a sneaking suspicion that A&W could have achieved the same goal with a 2/9-pound burger, which would be 3% smaller than a Quarter Pounder, but that's a debate for another day.

The question is whether we apply that across all products. For instance:

If someone opened a convenience store called 8-Twelve, would people think it's bigger than 7-11 (for the same reason as the A&W issue)? Because it should be, right?

Would the addition of Levi's 600 jeans seem like a step up from their famed 501 brand? Or does the presence of the "1" at the end of 501 make it seem like it's bigger than 600? We're not good at math, so I'm not sure.

Here's one thing I'm pretty sure about: American football fans would be fully confused if they were asked to explain the fractions that make up the words in quarterback, halfback and fullback.

They'd be right, because strangely, the larger the number gets (if you presume "full" means "1"), the less glory the position gets. It's almost to the point that some creative team – the Kansas City Chiefs? The Green Bay Packers? – will announce that their quarterback is now a one-eighthback, making him more valuable. It could be an advantage in attracting talent.

All this focus on numbers is confusing. It's as if Starbucks' insistence on strange names for their drinks (how is "tall" the smallest size?) didn't change Americans' perception, it reflected it.

I'll get back in the kitchen. I'm working on a new product for Burger King.

The 4/16-pounder will bury the Quarter Pounder, because it's four times as big, right?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.