That this model — which "mapped a theoretical customer journey from the moment a brand or product attracted consumer attention to the point of action or purchase” — was developed in 1898 certainly gives one pause, since everything else about marketing and advertising seems to change at the speed of broadband.
The great thing is that because the model has supposedly "evolved" to take into account all these changes, you can add one to your PowerPoint totally customized to whatever supports your own business model — and your audience (when they aren't checking email or Snapchat) will simply accept your model as valid, even if there is a stage that says "and then he stops and thinks about how this purchase will impact how younger women will regard him each time he drives down the street."
Thanks to online shopping (and Amazon Prime one-click, to be sure) I generally make a purchase within about 15 seconds. If I think the same item can be found elsewhere for less money — still with free shipping — then add another 10 seconds to make the transaction. There is hardly time to make a journey up or down anyone's funnel. And by the time I have hit "submit purchase,” it is too late (with the exception of those annoying retargeted ads that lots of folks label "creepy") for anyone to get me to "consider" or "become aware" of alternatives. Perhaps I have left a data trail that tells marketers I am a "buyer" of this or that, but they have no idea whether it will be three days or three years before I am moved to replenish that item.
With the exception of metrosexuals — who might be extinct, since hardly anyone talks about them anymore — this is pretty much how men shop: Walk into the store, wander the aisles until we find what we came in for, put it in the basket (grab another thingy or two that we hadn't intended to buy that day because you can never have enough tarps or garden hose), and hit checkout. If the line is long and the checkout displays have more cool thingies, we grab one of those, too. When we get home and our wives give us heat for the thingies, we are sorely tempted to point to their closets, where dozens of "well-considered" items hang untouched since they emerged from the shopping bag. But unless we want to miss several innings of the game in combat, we refrain.
You might argue that we do not make substantive purchases like clothes and cars with such impulsivity, and you would be utterly wrong. Unlike folks of the female persuasion, men take no joy in perusing all of the options, perhaps stopping for a light lunch of arugula and pears. We would be perfectly happy never to set foot in another retail store, and resist the notion that we need a new jacket or sweater because our old ones are "ancient." And frankly, we don't care that pleated pants or faded jeans are no longer "in." If they still fit, we are wearing 'em.
I have to admit that marketers have a slight shot to influence my next auto purchase, but no more so than the reviews of people who already own a model that has made "the consideration set." And all the marketing in the universe won't help if the dealer doesn't hit the TrueCar price (or better).
My purchase "journey" is not much of a journey at all. It is more of a sprint — and the winner gets an extra beer for a job well done.