I calculate that if I had ordered just
one item of food from every fast-food outlet which has seen fit to push
a leaflet through my door this year, I would be enormous by now.
I
realise that my conclusion is not particularly scientific, nor is it
based on any hard evidence or diligent research, but then if you had
wanted that kind of thing you would be reading the Lancet. From me you
get spurious hogwash and that is a fact.
Anyway
– and this too really is a fact – today alone no less than three
leaflets for those generic pizza/curry/burger establishments have
landed on my doormat. Entirely by the by, but if anyone reading this
happens to own a pizza/curry/burger establishment, I would seriously
advise you to re-think your leaflet design. As a customer with this
much choice, I need a good reason not to throw your leaflet straight
into the bin. So think ‘semi-naked ladies’. Like much of your target
audience, I am not in the least bit attached to stock images of
four-cheese pizza and 2-litre bottles of Diet Coke, whereas I’ve been
collecting pictures of scantily clad women since I was 14. Do the
maths, as they say. The
fast-food leaflets were not the only advertising bumf to come through
the door today. The smiling face of a young African boy slid through
the letter box and into the shoe cupboard, courtesy of my postman, Tim.
Just £10 per month would educate him for a year. The African boy that
is, not my postman. I don't really know how much it would cost to
educate my postman. I suppose I could get him a set of used
encyclopedias the next time I'm at the car boot sale. I'll look into
it. Meanwhile I continue to be assailed by takeaway shops, charities,
insurance companies, furniture factories, companies trying to sell me
hearing aids, bath aids, stair lifts, memory improvement courses,
memory improvement courses, and on it goes. The
most bothersome aspect of all this is that very few of these services
is particularly relevant to me. A stair lift would mostly go unused in
my single-story flat. I am unmarried and therefore in no particular
hurry to arrange a divorce. I have no idea what a book-keeper does or
how one might vary from a librarian (or even an ardent enthusiast with
a lot of paperbacks in the house), and so needless to say I will not be
signing up for the course. Admittedly there are occasions when an extra
pair of hands in the bath wouldn't go amiss, although I doubt this is
the kind of aid on offer. It
wouldn't be half so bad if this sort of marketing was more specifically
targeted at an individual customer's needs as opposed to the dragnet
approach employed by most of these companies. I recently talked to a
friend of mine who sometimes delivers leaflets as a means of making a
little extra cash. She told me that she once had to deliver an
advertising flyer for a new martial arts club to the residents of a
nursing home. I am not trying to suggest that older people are no
longer capable of a little gentle exercise to keep their limbs supple,
but it strikes me that once you move your Parker Knoll chair and best
China cabinet into Doddering Hall, it's probably safe to say your
kickboxing days are over. I
ask you, would not the residents of an old folk's home be more
interested in a company selling items of nostalgia or books and video
cassettes featuring local history? Or carpet slippers or mail-order
Werther's Originals, or any number of goods and services more befitting
than a three-for-two pizza offer and a 20% discount on your next
session of lethal combat training? Of course they would. We all would. There
is no surer way to a sale than by being there at the right time with
that which we truly need. Why I am at this very moment longing for a
device which warns you when there won't be enough shower gel left in
the bottle, putting an end to the sense of frustration and dismay that
comes with getting no more than a flatulent dribble of goo in the palm
of your hand. I dream of the day when someone will make shirts that
have built-in funny bone protectors. And not once have I ever received
a leaflet advertising a 24-hour emergency shoelace replacement service,
nor even one that offers memory improvement courses. But
the one I really long for, the leaflet that will have me reaching
instantly for the front door in a giddy paroxysm of urgency, is the one
that will say: LEAFLET COMPANY CLOSING DOWN SALE! ALL LEAFLETS MUST GO! I
can hardly wait. Now, I must be off. You see I've just received a most
interesting leaflet through the front door advertising a course that
promises to improve my memory! Now then, where did I put it…
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