September 2025

September 4 2025

Paradise, Sponsored.

Kredo Marketing Economics, Marketing influencer marketing, overtourism, social media, travel

How influencer marketing turned dream destinations into crowd control problems.

Hey wanderers—

Try visiting Positano in July, Hallstatt in Austria, or Bali’s Tegallalang rice terraces.

What should be a postcard view has become a backdrop for queues of tourists taking the same photo for Instagram. The phenomenon has a name—overtourism—and influencer marketing has poured jet fuel on it.

When exposure becomes overload

UNWTO says there were 1.3 billion international tourist arrivals in 2023, more than pre-pandemic. A big chunk of those trips were sparked by social media: Expedia found 36% of travelers booked a trip because they saw it on Instagram or TikTok.

Look around online: the hashtag #travel has over 700 million posts. Bali’s “Gates of Heaven” temple? Three-hour lines to fake a reflection photo.

Hallstatt, Austria? 780 locals, 10,000 daily touristsafter a viral post called it the “Frozen village.”

Exposure has stopped being marketing and started being gridlock.

Does the exposure pay off?

Short answer: it depends who you ask.

Restaurants and Airbnbs: win quick. In Hallstatt, bookings spiked double digits after the viral boom.
Platforms and influencers: win always. Instagram and TikTok get endless free content. Influencers pocket sponsorships and free stays.
Destinations themselves: often lose. Infrastructure buckles, ecosystems get trashed, locals get angry. Venice pulls in 25–30 million tourists a year—so many that in 2024 it slapped an entry fee on day-trippers. Barcelona literally banned new hotels. Machu Picchu capped daily tickets because erosion was visible.

Exposure creates demand, but demand doesn’t equal sustainable value.

Why overtourism is bad marketing

In branding terms, overtourism is self-cannibalization.

You sell the magic of tranquility, beauty, exclusivity—and then you destroy it by overselling.

Take Iceland: tourist arrivals jumped from 490k in 2010 to 2+ million by 2019. Cash flow soared, but visitor satisfaction at the Blue Lagoon and Golden Circle dropped 15%.

The product looked the same in ads, but on the ground? Crowded, noisy, disappointing.

Barcelona’s city council did the math in 2018: every extra million tourists meant €1.3B in revenue, but also €900M in hidden costs—housing spikes, trash, infrastructure strain. Not exactly free money.

Thailand’s Maya Bay was pulling in 5,000 people a day before the coral died. They shut it for four years. That’s not “brand building.” That’s brand arson.

Amsterdam? With 18M tourists a yearfor 820k residents, locals snapped. Protests, Airbnb bans, restrictions on tourist shops.

A brand that alienates its own community is a brand with an expiry date.

Is it still useful?

Influencer exposure isn’t useless—it just rewards the wrong people.

It drives volume, not value.

The platforms get content, influencers get paid, and destinations get stuck cleaning up the mess.

The smart ones are rewriting the rules: Bhutan charges $200 a dayto filter for high-value visitors. Some U.S. National Parks removed geotags to protect fragile spots. Others push off-season campaigns to spread the load.

The future isn’t “more.” It’s “better.”

In the end..

Overtourism is the ultimate marketing paradox: visibility that eats the very product it sells.

The irony is brutal—destinations are paying to be destroyed by their own success.

Influencer marketing didn’t fail; it worked so well it broke the system. The queue outside Bali’s temple, the crowds on Venetian bridges, the protests in Amsterdam—these are symptoms of a story overshared.

The next frontier of destination marketing won’t be about getting more eyeballs. It will be about having the courage to say no.

To cap numbers. To price for sustainability. To show less, but mean more.

Because if places don’t protect their brand equity now, they’ll end up as cautionary tales—hashtags of what once was.

Until next time, stay critical.

Alex

At Kredo Marketing, we help brands grow without burning out their own value. Strategy over noise, sustainability over oversaturation.

September 3 2025

In Buttons We Trust

Kredo Marketing Business Strategy, Economics, Marketing, Psychology behavioral economics, CTAs, ecommerce, manipulation, nudge, persuasion

Do CTAs, contact forms, and manipulative nudges still work?

Hey button-bashers—

We’ve all been told that CTAs are the lifeblood of digital marketing.

Add a big red button.

Put “Buy now” everywhere.

Make the form impossible to ignore. But are people still falling for it? Or have we clicked so many “Download the free guide” buttons that our eyes skim over them like potholes on an old road?

The uncomfortable answer: yes, CTAs and manipulative design still generate results. Not because users are gullible, but because human psychology hasn’t evolved as fast as the web.

Why CTAs still work (and the numbers behind it)

Conversion rates: HubSpot’s 2023 benchmark report shows that landing pages with a clear, visible CTA convert 202% more often than those without. Even minimal friction—like hiding the button—kills momentum.
Email campaigns: Campaign Monitor (2022) found that adding a single, well-placed CTA button in an email increased click-through rates by 371% compared to text-only links.
Color and clarity: Nielsen Norman Group’s UX studies show that users are still highly responsive to visual cues like contrast and size. “Buy Now” continues to outperform “Learn More” because clarity trumps creativity.

Manipulative tactics—scarcity timers, “only 2 seats left,” or fake urgency—aren’t dead either.

A Baymard Institute meta-analysis (2022) confirmed that scarcity cues improve e-commerce conversions by 5–15%on average.

That’s not a marginal gain—that’s millions in revenue at scale.Who profits the most

Direct-response marketers treat every click as money in the bank. For them, CTAs are oxygen—the lifeline that keeps campaigns alive and measurable. SaaS and subscription businesses lean on them too: auto-renewals, free trials, and frictionless signups mean that even a small increase in conversion cascades into recurring revenue. Think Netflix, Spotify, or Adobe locking users into monthly payments. And of course, the platforms themselves take a cut. Google and Meta reward ads with higher click-through rates, so CTAs aren’t just a tactic—they’re fuel for algorithms.

Meanwhile, the consumer profits the least. At best, they buy something they wanted anyway. At worst, they wake up paying for another subscription they forgot to cancel. At best, they buy something they wanted anyway. At worst, they wake up paying for another subscription they forgot to cancel.Who profits the most

Who profits the most

Direct-response marketers treat every click as money in the bank.

For them, CTAs are oxygen—the lifeline that keeps campaigns alive and measurable.

SaaS and subscription businesses lean on them too: auto-renewals, free trials, and frictionless signups mean that even a small increase in conversion cascades into recurring revenue.

Think Netflix, Spotify, or Adobe locking users into monthly payments. And of course, the platforms themselves take a cut. Google and Meta reward ads with higher click-through rates, so CTAs aren’t just a tactic—they’re fuel for algorithms.

Meanwhile, the consumer profits the least.

At best, they buy something they wanted anyway. At worst, they wake up paying for another subscription they forgot to cancel.

Why they still work in 2024

It isn’t rocket science: CTAs keep working because they tap into habits we can’t shake.

People scroll fast, think less, and default to the easiest action. The smoother the path, the more likely we are to take it. Platforms have trained us to live by buttons—like, follow, subscribe—and the rhythm of clicking feels natural.

In other words, people are on cognitive autopilot:in the infinite scroll luna park, we skim and click without much thought, and the easiest option usually wins. That’s where friction economics kicks in—strip away steps and doubts, and conversion rates climb.

Amazon’s one-click purchase isn’t just convenience; it’s a weaponized CTA.

Over time, this behavior has been normalized. Every interaction on social media is itself a CTA, conditioning us to act on prompts without hesitation.

And clarity always beats novelty:“Buy Now” or “Get Started” consistently outperforms the fluffy metaphors. Data from Unbounce shows that these blunt imperatives outperform phrases like “Explore Your Journey” by 30–50%.

The lesson? We’re wired to respond to simple cues, even when we think we’ve outgrown them.

The cracks in the system

But here’s the catch: they work less reliably than before.

Banner blindness → button blindness: As early as 2019, studies showed users subconsciously filtering out design elements that look like ads or CTAs.
Ad fatigue: Click-through rates for display ads have fallen to 0.35% globally (Statista, 2023). Users see CTAs as noise.
Legal risk: Dark patterns are under fire. The EU’s Digital Services Act (2024) and California’s CPRA explicitly ban manipulative consent flows and “roach motel” subscription traps.
Generational skepticism: Gen Z, raised on ads, is less responsive to “Sign up now” funnels. Surveys by Deloitte show they value authenticity over urgency, and trust peer reviews more than buttons.

Let’s not forget the math.

If an e-commerce store gets 100,000 monthly visits and a CTA tweak raises conversion by 2%, that’s 2,000 more sales. At an average order value of €60, that’s €120,000 in extra monthly revenue—from one button change.

Multiply that across industries and you see why CTAs remain central despite fatigue.

But it’s also why manipulation persists. A fake scarcity banner might be legally risky, but if it increases quarterly revenue by 8%, many businesses roll the dice.

Here’s the line worth drawing: persuasion respects agency, manipulation erodes it. A clear CTA—“Book your call now”—is not inherently unethical. A hidden auto-renewal, a countdown timer that resets every hour, or a form that makes cancellation impossible?

That’s manipulation.

Both still “work,” but one builds trust, the other burns it.

The bigger lesson

The future isn’t buttonless.

The future is honest buttons. CTAs will remain necessary—humans need cues to act. But the way they’re used will decide whether brands are remembered for trust or for trickery.

So yes, CTAs and nudges still drive clicks in 2025. But the businesses that last will be those who use them transparently, not those who weaponize them until the law—or the audience—strikes back.

Until next time, stay discerning.

Alex

At Kredo Marketing, we build growth strategies that work without trickery. Clear design, transparent funnels, real results.

September 1 2025

The Illusion of Cheap

Kredo Marketing Business Hacks, Business Strategy, Economics, Marketing, Psychology drip pricing, manipulation

How “cheap” became the most expensive word in marketing

Hey cost detectives—

The most expensive things in life are rarely the ones on the label.

They’re the hidden prices: the fees, the trade-offs, the fine print that turns a bargain into a bleed. And no matter how modern the trick looks on your app screen, hidden pricing is older than capitalism itself.

We’ve always been paying more than we thought—we’ve just become worse at noticing.

A short (and dirty) history

Back in Ancient Rome, merchants would water down wine or slip base metals into coins. Customers thought they were getting a deal; in reality, they were swallowing less alcohol and more disappointment. The hidden price wasn’t a line item—it was a diluted experience.

Fast-forward to the Middle Ages: markets looked regulated, guilds posted fixed prices, but shoppers were still nudged into “extras”—obligatory tips, mysterious tithes, service charges that appeared after the handshake. The ticket to enter the market was one price; the privilege of leaving with your goods was another.

The Industrial Revolution perfected the art. Railroads in the 19th century sold you the promise of a ticket, but then slipped in baggage fees, comfort surcharges, and fuel adjustments. Airlines in the late 20th century turned it into an Olympic sport: you bought the seat, but the food, the bags, even the act of choosing where to sit became premium upsells. Hidden pricing grew from the shadows into a fully-fledged business model.

Today, digital platforms have turned it into a science. Free trials that turn into auto-renewals. Delivery apps that add “regulatory fees” nobody can explain. Streaming services dangling introductory offers only to double the price a year later. Even the supermarket shrinks your chocolate bar while keeping the same packaging. Hidden prices no longer hide behind counters—they hide in plain sight, banking on the fact you won’t bother to add it all up.

Why hidden prices work so damn well

The psychology is embarrassingly simple.

Humans anchor to the first number they see. If the hotel room says €89 a night, that’s what your brain clings to, even if you know breakfast, Wi-Fi, and “resort fees” will inflate it. Economists call this “drip pricing”—you commit, drip by drip, until the true cost emerges when it’s too late to back out.

Once you’ve invested time, energy, or emotion, you’re less likely to walk away, even if you feel tricked.

And here’s the kicker:transparency doesn’t always win.

If Airline A lists €300 all-in, while Airline B flaunts €199plus asterisks, guess which one gets the click?

The market doesn’t punish opacity; it rewards it.

Which is why hidden prices are not an accident—they’re a feature.

The modern zoo of hidden costs

Open your banking app: withdrawal abroad? Fee.

Late payment? Fee.

“Maintenance”? Feefor existing.

Book a flight: cleaning fees, security fees, fuel surcharges.

Order online: service charges, platform fees, convenience fees that feel anything but convenient. Even shrinkflation—when your pack of biscuits quietly loses two cookies—is a hidden price, just camouflaged as packaging design.

What unites them is the same mechanic: advertise a low visible price, then offload the real margin into invisible corners. It’s smoke and mirrors, but digital, automated, and legal.

A guide to spotting what isn’t meant to be seen

So how do you defend yourself?

First: assume the headline price is a decoy. It almost always is. Read the terms before you hit “accept.” Simulate the full journey to checkout—airlines in particular are masters of piling on fees step by step.

Watch for time bombs: free trials, introductory offers, subscriptions that never end. Learn the language of deception: “service,” “processing,” “regulatory,” “maintenance.” These aren’t neutral—they’re disguises.

And above all, trust your skepticism. If it looks too cheap, it is. The hidden price is waiting for you at the end of the funnel.

The bottom line

Hidden prices aren’t bugs of the system—they are the system.

From watered wine to €30 resort fees, the methods change, but the principle is eternal: show the consumer what they want to see, charge them for what they don’t.

The irony? In a marketplace saturated with tricks, transparency is no longer just good ethics. It’s a marketing advantage.

Brands that dare to reveal the full cost up front will feel radical in a world addicted to illusion.

Until next time, stay sharp.

Alex

At Kredo Marketing, we help businesses grow without gimmicks. Transparent strategies, no hidden costs. Because trust is worth more than tricks.