The McRib and the power of scarcity

The McRib became more desirable by becoming less available, which is a marvellous insult to anyone who spent years improving products.

Nothing changed in the bun. The sandwich simply began disappearing on a schedule. Absence supplied a deadline, a hunt and membership of a small club whose initiation ceremony involved barbecue sauce. A permanently available McRib was lunch. A returning McRib was news.

Scarcity works because “later” is where desire goes for a nap. Remove later and an ordinary choice acquires a pulse. Seasonal beer, limited trainers, the final tour date: each turns preference into action by making delay consequential.

It can also make a product socially useful. The return gives people something to announce, hunt and argue about. Availability becomes an event instead of a permanent line on a menu board.

But fake scarcity smells. The hotel room that has been “last available” for eleven consecutive visits is not urgent; it is a liar with curtains. The online course closing tonight and reopening on Monday has turned its deadline into routine. Every false alarm taxes the next real one.

If something is genuinely limited, make the boundary visible and let it create an occasion. If supply is endless, a digital egg timer merely claims the warehouse is on fire. Next Monday the timer resets, the course reopens and yesterday’s urgent email becomes evidence against the next one.