Advertising is Dumb
It’s often said that no-one ever went broke by underestimating the intelligence of the public, but lately our friends in the advertising industry have really been lowering the bar. Examples are legion, but I offer just two for your consideration.
Not too long ago Holden ran an ad for their Rodeo Utes. The ad features a late 30s/early 40s couple in bed. The woman puts down a magazine and asks “Hon, what’s your ultimate fantasy?” The man then describes his ultimate fantasy as, you guessed it, a new Rodeo, in which he blasts around some generic moonscape.
Here’s where it gets weird. In the original cut of this ad, the woman asks him “is that all?” and he defensively says “yes” while a cut back to his fantasy world shows there’s an additional element to his fantasy: Suzie Wilks. Which just goes to show that when planning your ad campaign, make sure you don’t blow all your money on expensive-looking moonscapes leaving no money for half-decent celebrity stunt-casting. C’mon, Suzie Wilks?
But recently Holden have updated and re-released the ad to promote a sale on this particular Ute. Now, the defensive denial has been replaced with this:
See, this is where I have a problem. Surely in your ultimate fantasy, you don’t have to pay for the car of your dreams? Sure, we’re talking about someone whose wildest flights of imagination don’t get past a new car and the chick from Room for Improvement, but even then, he couldn’t go that tiny bit further and imagine not having to pay market value plus service fees and statutory and on-road costs?
To be absolutely clear: this man is fantasising about receiving a moderate discount on a product, and in the unfettered theatre of his mind he can’t even imagine not paying tax and rego. That’s like him saying “actually, my ultimate fantasy is seducing Audrey Tautou and then it turns out it’s not as good as I thought it would be and we both go away a bit disappointed.” See, marketeers, people might fantasise about owning a new Holden, but they do not fantasise about paying for it, any more than a “winning the lottery” fantasy is made even better by imagining spending good money on the lottery ticket. I’m sorry to break this to you, but the ‘ultimate’ price for something is free. (Actually, the ultimate price for something is probably “free with heaps of extra stuff thrown in” but let’s not split hairs).
There’s something a bit grubby about the whole thing though. High-performance utes are the playthings of the “Cub” (Cashed-Up Bogan) demographic, an important subset of the “aspirational” suburban populace so beloved of retailers and politicians. Brand marketers have been very conscious indeed of the Cubs as a lucrative market segment, because they have both money and the “aspirational” attitude that, properly harnessed, is a marketing dream. Could it be that Holden is subtly trying to make paying for things something to aspire to in itself?
No, probably not, now I think about it. Sorry.
Sometimes, though, the stupidity of advertising leaps off the screen and into your hand. Recently Lynx deodorant (whose advertising Christian has spoken about on this page before) released a rather clever ad featuring Ben Affleck and a joke involving one of those simple metal ‘clickers’ you use to count stuff.
So far, so good. Getting off the train at Richmond Station last Saturday night, a group of young women in Lynx t-shirts were handing out clickers to the alighting footy crowd. Real, honest-to-God, working clickers with metal casing and reset dial. Even weirder, they were handing everyone two of them per person. So my wife and I now own four clickers, which is roughly four more than I have or ever will have use for. As promotions go it’s sort of cute, but what the hell did it cost? Is the enormous outlay of giving passers-by two of the same thing that aren’t going to be useful anyway seriously going to translate into wildly increased Lynx sales?
Well, will owning a Lynx-emblazoned clicker and a back-up Lynx-emblazoned clicker make me any more likely to buy this product? No. However, if they make it smell the same, but add in an anti-perspirant, I would. Simple. Instead of shoving useless chunks of metal in my hand, maybe they should’ve just asked me. Ah, but that would mean assuming I’ve got some informed idea of what I want, rather than just being swayed by colour and movement. Call me difficult, but I’m not all that keen on letting Ben Affleck determine what I put under my armpits.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to daydreaming about owning my very own Carribean island. Especially the bit where I have to pay back-dated land tax. Ahhh…
Not too long ago Holden ran an ad for their Rodeo Utes. The ad features a late 30s/early 40s couple in bed. The woman puts down a magazine and asks “Hon, what’s your ultimate fantasy?” The man then describes his ultimate fantasy as, you guessed it, a new Rodeo, in which he blasts around some generic moonscape.
Here’s where it gets weird. In the original cut of this ad, the woman asks him “is that all?” and he defensively says “yes” while a cut back to his fantasy world shows there’s an additional element to his fantasy: Suzie Wilks. Which just goes to show that when planning your ad campaign, make sure you don’t blow all your money on expensive-looking moonscapes leaving no money for half-decent celebrity stunt-casting. C’mon, Suzie Wilks?
But recently Holden have updated and re-released the ad to promote a sale on this particular Ute. Now, the defensive denial has been replaced with this:
Woman: Is that all?
Man: No, I want it all for just $14,990 excluding dealer delivery and government charges.
See, this is where I have a problem. Surely in your ultimate fantasy, you don’t have to pay for the car of your dreams? Sure, we’re talking about someone whose wildest flights of imagination don’t get past a new car and the chick from Room for Improvement, but even then, he couldn’t go that tiny bit further and imagine not having to pay market value plus service fees and statutory and on-road costs?
To be absolutely clear: this man is fantasising about receiving a moderate discount on a product, and in the unfettered theatre of his mind he can’t even imagine not paying tax and rego. That’s like him saying “actually, my ultimate fantasy is seducing Audrey Tautou and then it turns out it’s not as good as I thought it would be and we both go away a bit disappointed.” See, marketeers, people might fantasise about owning a new Holden, but they do not fantasise about paying for it, any more than a “winning the lottery” fantasy is made even better by imagining spending good money on the lottery ticket. I’m sorry to break this to you, but the ‘ultimate’ price for something is free. (Actually, the ultimate price for something is probably “free with heaps of extra stuff thrown in” but let’s not split hairs).
There’s something a bit grubby about the whole thing though. High-performance utes are the playthings of the “Cub” (Cashed-Up Bogan) demographic, an important subset of the “aspirational” suburban populace so beloved of retailers and politicians. Brand marketers have been very conscious indeed of the Cubs as a lucrative market segment, because they have both money and the “aspirational” attitude that, properly harnessed, is a marketing dream. Could it be that Holden is subtly trying to make paying for things something to aspire to in itself?
No, probably not, now I think about it. Sorry.
Sometimes, though, the stupidity of advertising leaps off the screen and into your hand. Recently Lynx deodorant (whose advertising Christian has spoken about on this page before) released a rather clever ad featuring Ben Affleck and a joke involving one of those simple metal ‘clickers’ you use to count stuff.
So far, so good. Getting off the train at Richmond Station last Saturday night, a group of young women in Lynx t-shirts were handing out clickers to the alighting footy crowd. Real, honest-to-God, working clickers with metal casing and reset dial. Even weirder, they were handing everyone two of them per person. So my wife and I now own four clickers, which is roughly four more than I have or ever will have use for. As promotions go it’s sort of cute, but what the hell did it cost? Is the enormous outlay of giving passers-by two of the same thing that aren’t going to be useful anyway seriously going to translate into wildly increased Lynx sales?
Well, will owning a Lynx-emblazoned clicker and a back-up Lynx-emblazoned clicker make me any more likely to buy this product? No. However, if they make it smell the same, but add in an anti-perspirant, I would. Simple. Instead of shoving useless chunks of metal in my hand, maybe they should’ve just asked me. Ah, but that would mean assuming I’ve got some informed idea of what I want, rather than just being swayed by colour and movement. Call me difficult, but I’m not all that keen on letting Ben Affleck determine what I put under my armpits.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to daydreaming about owning my very own Carribean island. Especially the bit where I have to pay back-dated land tax. Ahhh…
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