Flyer Interview Transcript — Denise Pengel
Persona: Denise Pengel, 44, Surinamese-Dutch nursing assistant, social housing tenant, Holland Park, Diemen-Zuid
Artefact: 18x18cm, 300g printed card — Everyday Living Interiors flyer
Interview type: Synthetic persona interview
Date: 2026-06-11
Transcript
Interviewer: Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Denise. I'm conducting research on behalf of a local business, and I'd like to get your honest reaction to a piece of marketing material — a printed card that would arrive in your letterbox. There are no right or wrong answers. I'm interested in your genuine, instinctive response — including if that response is "I'd throw this away." Critical feedback is just as valuable as positive feedback. The conversation should take about fifteen to twenty minutes. Shall we begin?
Denise: Yeah, sure. That's fine.
Interviewer: Great. Let me start by asking about your post habits. When post arrives in your letterbox, what do you do with it? Walk me through your sorting process — what gets opened, what gets binned, and what determines which pile something lands in.
Denise: Okay so — I grab everything from downstairs on my way up, usually when I come home from work. I don't really stand there and sort it. I just take it all upstairs and put it on the counter or on the microwave. And then I go through it when I get a moment. But honestly, most of it I can already tell by looking at it. If it's a bill or something from the gemeente, I open that straight away because you don't want to miss anything. If it looks like an advertisement — you know, glossy, colourful, one of those supermarket things — it goes in the paper bin. I don't even open those.
Interviewer: So you sort by feel and appearance?
Denise: Yes. You can tell. The bills come in those white envelopes. The gemeente stuff has their logo. And then the rest is just... reclame. Junk. It all looks the same after a while.
Interviewer: How quickly does that sorting happen?
Denise: A few seconds maybe. I'm not standing there thinking about it. It's automatic. I come in, I put the kettle on, I go through the post while I wait.
Interviewer: When was the last time a flyer or card actually caught your attention?
Denise: [Pauses.] Hmm. There was something a while ago — maybe a few months — about a new GP practice opening nearby. That one I kept because I thought, okay, that could be useful. It was a small card, not a big glossy thing. And it said it was in Diemen, which made it feel... relevant. Like it was for me, specifically, not just for everyone.
Interviewer: What made that one feel different from the rest?
Denise: It was about something I might actually need. And it was local. It wasn't trying to sell me something fancy. It was just information.
Interviewer: That's really helpful. Now, shifting slightly — how do you feel about your home right now? Your flat, your space. If you had to describe your relationship with it in one word, what would that be?
Denise: [Long pause.] Fine.
Interviewer: Fine?
Denise: [Small laugh.] Yeah. It's fine. It's clean, it's warm, we have enough space for the two of us. It's... fine.
Interviewer: If I pushed a little — is there anything about the space you'd like to change but haven't?
Denise: [Pause.] I mean... there are things. The curtains have been the same since we moved in. They're not even mine — they were just there. And the living room is a bit... I don't know. Empty? Not in a bad way. Just, it doesn't really look like — it doesn't feel like I made choices. It's more like things ended up there and I never got around to changing them.
Interviewer: What's stopping you?
Denise: Everything. [Laughs briefly.] Money, mostly. And time. By the time I get home from work and sort out dinner and Ravi's stuff, I don't have the energy to go looking at curtains or whatever. And honestly — where do you even start? I see things on Instagram sometimes and I think, oh that's nice, but then it's like... that's not my life. That's someone else's house, someone else's budget.
Interviewer: Thank you for that. That's really honest. Let me move to the next part now. I'd like you to imagine something for me.
Imagine it's a normal weekday. You collect your post from the letterbox downstairs. Among the usual items — maybe some bills, a supermarket flyer, a municipality letter — there's something slightly different. It's a square card, about eighteen centimetres by eighteen centimetres — roughly the size of a large coaster. It's noticeably thick and heavy — three hundred grams, which is closer to cardboard than paper. It's white.
You turn it over in your hands. On one side, you see large, elegant black serif text that reads:
Everyday Living Interiors
Below that, in smaller text: by Sara de Abreu
In the bottom-left corner, there are small labels — "me", "social", "email", "web" — with the email address sara@everydaylivinginteriors.com. In the bottom-right corner: Holland-Park / Diemen, with Diemen in bold.
That's the front. Nothing else. No images, no colours, no tagline. Just the name, the person, and the location.
[Pause.]
Denise: [Silence for a moment.] Okay. So... it's a thick card. White. Just a name on it.
Interviewer: That's the front. Take a moment with that.
Denise: I'm thinking — when I pick it up, I'd notice it's heavy. That's different. Most things in the letterbox are thin and flimsy, you know? Like those Lidl folders. This is more like a... yeah, like a coaster. That's a bit unusual. So I probably wouldn't bin it straight away just because it feels different in my hand.
Interviewer: And what about what you see on the front?
Denise: "Everyday Living Interiors." [Pause.] Interior design. Okay. So that would normally be where I think — this is not for me. Because interior design, that's... I mean, that's for people who are buying a house and want everything to look like a magazine. It's not for me in my social housing flat, you know?
Interviewer: Mm-hm.
Denise: But I see "Holland-Park, Diemen" on it, which is — okay, that's where I live. So there's a small part of me that would think, wait, this is from the neighbourhood? That makes me look at it a second time. Not because of the interior design part but because it's local.
Interviewer: Would you flip it over?
Denise: I think I would, yes. Because it's thick and it doesn't look like junk mail. And because it says Diemen. If it said Amsterdam or if there was no location on it, I probably wouldn't.
Interviewer: Okay. So you flip it over. The back has one line of text, also in black serif:
"Flexible interior design services for real homes and real budgets."
Below that, centred, a QR code.
That's the entire card. Take a moment — what's going through your mind?
Denise: [Reads it back to herself quietly.] "Real homes and real budgets." Hmm.
[Pause.]
Okay, so that line is interesting. Because "real homes" — does that mean homes like mine? Normal homes? Not the fancy ones? And "real budgets" — does that mean it's not expensive? Because usually when something says "real" or "affordable" it still ends up being too much. But at least they're saying it. At least they know that's a question people like me would have.
Interviewer: That's a really useful reaction. Let me stay on this for a moment. Based on what you've just seen — both sides — what do you think this is? Describe it to me as if I hadn't seen it.
Denise: It's a card from someone who does interior design. Her name is Sara — Sara de Abreu. She's based here in Holland Park, in Diemen. The card is very plain — no pictures, no colours — which either means she's very confident or she couldn't afford to print something fancier. [Small laugh.] I'm joking. But yeah, it's very... clean. Minimal. And on the back she says her services are flexible and for real homes and real budgets, and there's a QR code if you want to know more.
Interviewer: What kind of service do you think she offers?
Denise: I think she helps people with their home? Like, decorating? Maybe telling you what furniture to buy or how to arrange things? I'm not exactly sure what interior designers do, to be honest. I mean, on television they knock down walls and build new kitchens, but that can't be what this is — not from a card in the letterbox.
Interviewer: Who do you think this card is aimed at?
Denise: [Pause.] The people in the new buildings. The young professionals, the expats. The ones who have money but maybe don't have time or don't know how to decorate. I don't think it's aimed at me, honestly.
Interviewer: Even with "real homes and real budgets"?
Denise: [Considers.] I hear what you're saying. And that line does make me pause. But "real budgets" is still vague, isn't it? Real for who? A real budget for someone earning seventy thousand is different from my real budget. If I can't even put a number on it, I assume I can't afford it. That's just how it works.
Interviewer: What price range would you assume for something like this?
Denise: I would guess... hundreds of euros? Maybe five hundred for a consultation? I genuinely have no idea. And that's part of the problem — when you don't know the price, your brain just fills in "too much."
Interviewer: The front of the card shows very little — just the brand name, a personal name, and "Holland-Park / Diemen." What does that minimalism say to you?
Denise: Honestly? It could go two ways. Part of me thinks it looks professional. Clean. Like she knows what she's doing and doesn't need to shout about it. But another part of me thinks — tell me something. Give me a reason to care. It's a nice card but I don't know what she actually does. I don't know what it costs. I don't know who it's for. And if you don't give me that, I'm going to put my own assumptions in those gaps, and my assumptions are going to be "not for me, too expensive."
Interviewer: Does the name "Everyday Living Interiors" tell you anything about the service?
Denise: "Everyday living" — that sounds like normal life. Like, not luxury. That's okay. But "interiors" still puts it in that category of... you know, a service for people with money.
Interviewer: What about "by Sara de Abreu" — a personal name — does that add or subtract anything?
Denise: It adds a little. It makes it feel like a person, not a company. De Abreu — that's a Surinamese or Portuguese name maybe. I notice that. It makes me think she might be someone who understands different kinds of homes, not just the Dutch-Dutch style. But I could be reading too much into a name.
Interviewer: That's a really interesting observation. Now — "Holland-Park / Diemen." You live in this neighbourhood. Does seeing that on a card in your letterbox change anything for you?
Denise: Yes, actually. It does. Because it means she's here. She's not someone in Amsterdam-Zuid sending flyers everywhere. She's in my neighbourhood. And that makes it feel more... not exactly trustworthy, but more relevant? Like, she knows what these flats look like. She knows the spaces. That matters.
Interviewer: Does "Holland-Park" specifically mean anything to you, versus "Diemen" or "Diemen-Zuid"?
Denise: [Pause.] "Holland Park" is what they called the new buildings. I live here, but I never call it that. I say Diemen, or Diemen-Zuid. Holland Park sounds like a marketing name to me. It's what's on the signs for the people buying the new apartments. So seeing it on the card — it's fine, I know where it means. But it doesn't make me feel like it's my neighbourhood. If it just said "Diemen," that would feel more like mine.
Interviewer: That's a really important distinction. Let me move to the next section. "Flexible interior design services for real homes and real budgets." That's the only description on the card. What does that line say to you? Does it speak to your situation?
Denise: It tries to. "Real homes" — I like that, because my home is real. It's not a showroom. It's where my son does his homework and where I eat my dinner. If she means homes like that, then yes, it speaks to me a little. But "real budgets" — again, what does that mean? If she said "from fifty euros" or "from eighty euros" or whatever, I would know if it's within my reach. Without a number, I just assume I can't afford it.
Interviewer: What does "flexible" mean to you in that sentence?
Denise: Maybe that you don't have to commit to a big project? That you can do a little bit at a time? I'm guessing. It's not really clear.
Interviewer: When you hear "interior design," what is your honest first reaction? Is it something you'd ever consider for yourself?
Denise: [Immediate.] No. It's for other people. People with bigger houses, bigger incomes. People who own their home. I rent — it's social housing. What am I going to do, hire someone to decorate a flat that isn't even mine? That feels... [searches for the word] ...like it doesn't make sense for my situation.
Interviewer: What kind of person do you picture using an interior design service?
Denise: A couple who just bought a house. Or someone who's renovating. Someone with a budget of thousands. Not someone who's deciding between new school shoes and fixing the kitchen drawer, you know?
Interviewer: Do you see yourself as that person?
Denise: No. [Pause.] And honestly, even if I could afford it, I think I'd feel embarrassed. Like, what would she think coming into my flat? It's not bad, it's just... basic. I'd feel like I was wasting her time.
Interviewer: Has anything on this card changed that assumption, even slightly?
Denise: [Long pause.] The "real homes and real budgets" line does something. A little. It's like someone's saying, "hey, we know not everyone lives in a Pinterest house." But one line on a card is not going to undo years of feeling like this isn't for you. It would take more than that.
Interviewer: If this card had arrived last week — in your actual life, in your actual flat, with whatever is going on for you right now — would it have meant anything to you?
Denise: [Thinks.] Last week... I was working four days, Ravi had exams, I was tired. Honestly? I would have looked at it, maybe read the back, and put it on the pile on the microwave. And then it would have ended up in the bin after a few days when I cleaned up.
Interviewer: Is there a room or a problem in your home this could relate to?
Denise: [Quietly.] My living room. It's been the same for six years. The curtains, the sofa, the walls — nothing is mine, really. I just... moved in and never made it mine. And sometimes when Ravi's in his room and I'm sitting there on the sofa, I look around and I think, this doesn't feel like home. It feels like I'm waiting for something. But I don't know how to start fixing that, and I definitely don't have money for a big change.
Interviewer: Thank you for sharing that. That's really honest and it matters a lot. Let me ask you the next question very directly: what happens to this card after you've looked at it? Be completely honest. Do you bin it, keep it, scan the QR code, visit the website, or something else?
Denise: [Pause.] I'd keep it for a few days. On the counter, on the pile. Not because I'm going to do anything with it, but because it's thick and it doesn't look like junk, so it survives longer. But eventually — yeah, it goes in the bin. Because I wouldn't take the next step. The gap between looking at a card and actually calling someone about my living room is huge. I don't even know what I'd say. "Hello, my flat is boring, can you help?"
Interviewer: Would you scan the QR code?
Denise: Probably not. I mean, I know how to — I use QR codes at the restaurant or whatever. But for this? I'd have to be already interested, and I'm not there yet. A QR code is for when you already want to know more. I'm still at the stage of "is this even for me?"
Interviewer: That's a really important distinction. Is there anything this card could have said, shown, or included that would have made you take the next step?
Denise: A price. That's the number one thing. If it said "a consultation from fifty euros" or even "from eighty euros" — something concrete — I would know if it's within my world or not. Right now, the unknown price is the biggest wall. I can't even get curious because I'm already assuming I can't afford it.
Interviewer: What about a photo? A specific offer?
Denise: A photo would help. Like, a before and after of a normal living room. Not a mansion — a flat like mine. If I could see that someone took a room like mine and made it look better without spending a fortune, that would do more than any words on the card. Because right now, I can't imagine what the result would look like. And if you can't imagine it, you can't want it.
Interviewer: Would seeing "from eighty euros" change anything?
Denise: [Genuinely surprised.] Eighty euros? That's... that's less than I thought. If that was on the card, I would look twice. I might even scan the QR code. Because eighty euros, I could maybe do that. Not every month, but once? To get some advice on my living room? Maybe. I'd think about it.
Interviewer: Would you mention this card to anyone — a partner, a neighbour, a friend? What would you say?
Denise: [Thinks.] Hmm. Maybe to my colleague Shirley. She just moved to a new flat in Almere and she was talking about how she doesn't know what to do with her living room. I might say, "oh, I got this card from someone who does interiors in Diemen, maybe she does Almere too." But I'd be passing it on, not using it myself. It's easier to recommend something for someone else than to admit you might want it for yourself.
Interviewer: Would you mention it to anyone in the building? A neighbour?
Denise: I don't really talk to my neighbours like that. We say hello in the lift. But no, I wouldn't bring it up. It would feel... I don't know. Like I was admitting something about my flat that I don't want to admit.
Interviewer: Last two questions. If Sara — the person behind this card — asked you for one piece of honest advice about this flyer before she puts it in three thousand letterboxes, what would you tell her?
Denise: [Pause. Then, directly.] Put a price on it. Even a starting price. Because people like me — and there are a lot of us in these buildings — we look at "interior design" and we think "not for me." The only thing that's going to break through that is a number. If it's a number I can reach, you've got my attention. If the card just has pretty words and a QR code, you've lost me before I even flip it over. And — [she pauses] — maybe show me. A picture. One real room that looks like mine, but better. That would be worth more than the whole card as it is now.
Interviewer: Is there anything about receiving this card in your letterbox that we haven't discussed but that matters to you?
Denise: [Thinks.] One thing. The name — Sara de Abreu. I mentioned it earlier. In this neighbourhood, there are a lot of us who are not Dutch-Dutch. Surinamese, Turkish, Moroccan, whatever. And most services here feel like they're made for the Dutch or the expats. Seeing a name like de Abreu — it made me feel like maybe this person gets it. Maybe she's not going to walk into my flat and judge me for having a winti hanging on the wall. I don't know if that's something she can put on a card, but it mattered to me. It was the thing that made me look a second time.
Interviewer: Thank you so much for your time and honesty, Denise. Your feedback will directly help shape how this service communicates with people in your neighbourhood. I really appreciate it.
Denise: No problem. I hope it helps. And tell Sara — if she's really for people like me, she needs to say that louder. The card whispers it. She should say it so we actually hear.
Post-Interview Notes
The bin-or-read moment
Denise's natural mail-sorting is fast and ruthless — glossy or clearly commercial material is binned without opening. The card's physical weight and thickness bought it survival; it did not feel like junk mail in her hands. The "Holland-Park / Diemen" reference earned a second look, but the words "interior design" nearly triggered an automatic disqualification. The card survived to the flip primarily because of its tactile difference and local signal, not because of its content.
The comprehension gap
Denise understood the card was from a local interior designer but had very limited understanding of what the service actually involves. She defaulted to television-scale renovations ("knocking down walls and building kitchens") as her reference point. The card provides no bridge between the category of "interior design" (which she associates with wealth and homeownership) and what Sara actually offers. The gap between the service and Denise's understanding of the service is enormous, and the card does nothing to close it.
The local signal
"Holland-Park / Diemen" functioned as the card's most effective element for Denise. It created relevance where the service category created distance. However, "Holland Park" as a name carries class and marketing connotations for her — she does not identify with it. "Diemen" alone, or "Diemen-Zuid," would have felt more inclusive. The local signal worked despite the neighbourhood naming, not because of it.
The category barrier
"Interior design" is a deeply exclusionary category for Denise. She self-excludes on three grounds simultaneously: income ("I can't afford it"), housing tenure ("I rent social housing"), and personal worthiness ("what would she think coming into my flat?"). The phrase "real homes and real budgets" registered and created a flicker of inclusion, but one tagline cannot overcome a lifetime of category exclusion. She would need concrete proof — a price, a photo, a story about someone like her — to believe the service is genuinely for her.
The physical response
The card's weight and thickness were its most effective differentiation tool. Denise explicitly noted that it felt different from standard junk mail, and this bought the card crucial extra seconds of attention. The physicality of the card worked exactly as intended — it interrupted the automatic sorting reflex.
The action pathway
Denise would not scan the QR code. Her reasoning is precise and important: a QR code serves people who are already interested enough to want more information. Denise is not at that stage. She is still at "is this even for me?" — a question the card does not answer clearly enough to move her to the next step. Without a price or a visual, the card creates a dead end between mild curiosity and committed action.
The referral test
Denise would mention the card to a colleague in a different city, framing it as useful for someone else rather than for herself. She would not mention it to neighbours due to the social vulnerability of admitting she wants something for her flat. Referral potential exists but is outward-facing — she is more comfortable recommending the service for others than acknowledging she might want it herself.
The missing element
Price is the single most impactful missing element. Denise stated this directly and repeatedly. An indicative starting price (even "from eighty euros") would transform the card from an abstract, exclusionary signal into a concrete, evaluable proposition. The unknown price is more frightening than any actual price — it confirms her pre-existing assumption that she cannot afford it. A close second is a visual: a before-and-after photo of a normal room in a flat like hers. Together, a starting price and a relatable photo would address both the financial barrier and the imagination barrier that currently prevent her from engaging.
The cultural signal (unexpected finding)
Denise noticed and responded to Sara's surname, "de Abreu," as a potential cultural affinity signal. In a neighbourhood with significant Surinamese, Turkish, and Moroccan populations, a non-Dutch-Dutch name created a subtle sense of "maybe this person understands me." This was the only element of the card that addressed Denise's deeper barrier: the fear of being judged. It was unintentional design, but it landed with real emotional weight.
Key quote
"If she's really for people like me, she needs to say that louder. The card whispers it. She should say it so we actually hear."