Wednesday 13 March 2013

The science of selling yourself short

A few days ago, there was a knock at the door. At the time I was, to use the immortal words of Run DMC, minding my own business, eating food and finger licking, but nevertheless, I bravely ventured to the front door and opened it to reveal two people whose immaculate appearance could only mean they were Jehovah’s Witnesses. And sure enough, they were. Achingly pretty, but nonetheless, preaching to the unconverted. Happily, however, they took me by surprise by handing me a leaflet, inviting me to a church event the following weekend and then simply walking away as they thanked me for my time. The front door was open for perhaps 30 seconds, and then I was back to my meal, asking my friend if he’d like to know why Christ died for our sins.

Sadly for the Witnesses, he didn’t. And even more sadly from their perspective, I didn’t visit their event and discover the good Lord. In fact, I threw their leaflet in the recycling bin (I’m a conscientious agnostic) and forgot all about it until two days later, when the phone rang. The caller display simply read “UNAVAILABLE”, which is usually an indicator of a telesales call, and sure enough, a lengthy pause was followed by the immortal words: “This…is…an…important…”, at which point I returned the phone to its charging station and thought wistfully about murdering everyone who has ever sold or supplied my landline number to a “marketing” agency. And then I started to wonder – do all these unsolicited attempts at selling or persuading people ever actually achieve anything?

I am invited, on an almost daily basis, to purchase tablets that will enhance my sexual pleasure (and sometimes hers too, which assumes that I’m (a) straight and (b) not celibate). I regularly get unwanted sales emails in my work inbox, which is annoying when I’m waiting for a contract to be returned, and the ping of my email account heralds nothing more than an invitation to buy protective boots, or a list of second-hand vans for sale in East Kilbride. If I had a penny for every time I’ve had catalogues through my door from a Jermyn Street tailor I’ve never ordered from, or a brochure from car companies I might have entered a competition to win a car from eight years ago when my old Volvo was on its last legs, I could probably afford to buy a new Volvo. In fact, if anyone from Volvo is reading this, I would be delighted to insert the word Volvo into every subsequent post on this widely-read, internationally-acclaimed (soon to be Volvo-themed) blog, and all I ask in exchange is a free Volvo V60. I’m sure the Volvo marketing people would agree that’s a small price to pay for the positive publicity it would generate.

Which leads me back rather neatly to the matter at hand. Do the attempts at publicity I’ve outlined above ever yield results? Have any of you received an email about V1agra or Ciali5 and thought “ooh, the weekend’s coming up but nothing else is. I’d hate to disappoint the wife again, so I’ll click on this mysterious web link and order myself some evening glory”? Have Jehovah’s Witnesses ever knocked on a door, rattled off the spiel about Christ dying for our sins, and seen the occupant drop to their knees in supplication? And have any of those “This is a call about PPI insurance” calls ever led to someone pressing 1 for further information? Actually, I don’t know whether 1 is the number you press for further information, because I’ve always hung up by that point, but presumably there is some sort of method whereby complete idiots can request a call back from some spotty minimum-wage spong in a call centre in Manchester.

Presumably companies find it worth the effort to publish leaflets and pay students to shove them through letterboxes, or program computers to ring random numbers with pre-recorded messages about accidents in the last five years. If it achieved nothing at all, they wouldn’t do it, would they? But equally, I don’t know a single person who has ever responded to unsolicited junk mail/cold-calling/spam emails/religious fanatics at the door. It’s something of a paradox. However, if companies, spammers, marketers and zealots are going to waste my time by trying to sell me household Gods I don’t need, take a tip from the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Get it over with as quickly as you possibly can, and I shall at least be grateful for the brevity of your unwanted intrusion into my life.

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