Marketing, Media, Music

Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Ugh.

There is a disturbing movement sweeping the air waves. You may have just heard it in the background one day, the cheerful, melodic moan of a faceless, happy chorus singing “oh-oh-oh-oh-oh”.

I missed the first occurrence: Philip Phillips delivering his blockbuster “Home”

with a long, triumphant chorus of “oh’s”. But I did catch it when American Family Insurance adopted his tune, sung by what seemed the entire Morman Tabernacle Choir to drill the melody into my insurance-saturated brain.

Fine. Phillips and AFI hit it off.

But now the oh-ohs are a virus, spreading across the music stage, and frankly, few performers get it right. Nevertheless, they include their attempt at oh-oh, because the recording studio asked for it.

” ‘Oh’– a catchy phrase, with infinite potential.”

Or it could be that the writers’ union has gone on strike. No more chorus lyrics!

And if it’s selling music, it must be selling burgers, phones and cars, too. Just ask McDonalds, T-Mobil and Nissan. They all have their own oh-oh theme right now.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh–once again, with feeling!”

Looking for the source of this mono-syllabic drone, one could guess that it was the Atlanta Braves fan club that mass marketed oh-oh with their jubilant “Tomahawk Chop” song.

Any pitcher-batter contest was unnervingly accompanied by the 6-tone refrain, delivered by 40,000 spectators motioning like one-armed bandits in a therapy session.

“Just the sound of it makes one salivate.”

Still, it could also be a tip of the hat to the feline chorus that gave us the MeowMix anthem. This little ditty has soothed and inspired us for over 30 years. Let’s hum a few bars.

“On the downbeat, gents!”

Digging deeper into the past, it could be the hearty and beloved rowing songs that floated up from below the salty decks of huge Roman galleys charging toward some hapless fishing dinghy in the ancient Mediterranean. “All together now, lads! Oh-oh-oh……. crunch.”

“Now I know what they meant by ‘chorus line’!”

Still, oh-oh’s roots could hark back even earlier to the carefree days of the Egyptians, toiling together, sliding 20-ton obelisks across films of hot bull fat with the help of a team of 200 melodious Ethiopians, in full harness.

“Now that is a Sphinx! Let’s give a hearty rendition of Oh!”

My hunch is that oh-oh will eventually go away, when the human ear finally grows flaps, or the alphabet is re-written, eliminating “o”.

Mean time, I am playing nothing but Bobby Ridell and Beach Boys. They were into “oo”.

Thanks for reading along! Feel free to comment.

I hope you don’t have trouble sleeping as oh-oh runs around in your head all night!

direct mail, Economics, Marketing

How You Make Personalization Pay Off

A 24-page color calendar, replete with country roads, cabins, barns, flowers and birds…lots of birds.

Personalizing a mail piece comes with expense. You are about to see the motherlode.

Gracing the letter with the reader’s name is one thing, but it’s quite another to match that to the envelope. For the fully committed direct marketer, there are personalization payoffs, and Father Flanagan’s Boystown shows us how.

An outer envelope promising lots, and delivering, too.

January.. from the 36-pager booklet, with more birds…growing in numbers.

Just before Christmas we received a 9 x 12 envelope from Boystown announcing their 2015 appeal. The donor acquisition kit weighs about a third of a pound, which is huge. The outer envelope calls out, by name, that FREE Special Edition Gifts are enclosed.

“Free Gifts” is right. They send three calendars: a 24-page hanger for the wall, a 36-page purse calendar booklet, and an 8-1/4 x 10-3/4 calendar card.

The color label sheet. High quality and keepable.

The whole collection is covered in Sam Timm nostalgia art: winter ponds, chimneyed log cabins, old trucks, old boats, old canoes and birds…. enough birds to awaken Alfred Hitchcock one last time.

Another calendar, this one with a stylized street sign.

But the overwhelming effect comes from the personalization. Father Flanagan has managed to personalize 8 pieces in this whopper kit: the envelope, the letter, the reply form, the reply envelope, two sets of very nice address labels, a certificate and a calendar card.

It’s only an acknowledgement, but hey, it’s framable.

Over the top maybe?

A Johnson Box, personalized and tinted, captures the gist.

Not really. Remember, good direct mail is designed to be indispensable. It is extremely difficult to throw out a kit when your name is woven into its making so admirably. The proof: this is a control package, or very similar to past controls. So it is working.

What’s the math that supports this?

The kit itself probably cost around $1.80. Postage for a 6-ounce Flat at non profit rates is actually a bargain, add another 30-cents. Total cost in the mail, probably $2.25 after adding list and processing. This is a guess, only, having not spoken directly with Boystown.

Individualized gift certificates, one of three.

Now, the hard part: getting paid. Assume the average gift is $15. To break even, we need a 15.0% response. ($2.25 divided by $15.00 = 15.0%)

And the really hard part: they probably won’t get 15.0% response. More likely, they might achieve 8-10%. Let’s say 10%. So given that, every response came at a cost of $22.50 ($2.25 divided by 10% = $22.50).

A strategic gift choice, Goldilocks-style. Let’s go for $15.00!

Is a new donor worth $22.50? The answer is, “yes”!

By Father Flanagan’s 2012 financial report, they derived nearly $5 for every dollar spent in fundraising. A very acceptable payback according to industry standards. By the numbers above, the new donor will continue to give over time, well in excess of $113.00.

A set of stylish B&W labels in case I don’t want to give away the birds.

Personalized donor form and reply envelope. Note the QR code for tracking!

Again, this analysis is my perspective only, but a donor will continue to give to a worthy cause, especially one as well branded as Boystown. And not only will they give today, but some will most assuredly make bequests after passing to keep the institution providing its valuable service.

So personalization plays a big part in winning support, and the savvy marketers at Boystown have done their jobs well in making it pay for their cause.

Thanks for hanging in to read all those numbers! FYI, Boystown provided nearly $192 million in services in 2012, and in 2013, served 122,000 children and families across America.

direct mail, Marketing

Pretty Ain’t Pretty Sometimes

A 2-page high color sell sheet, but no letter!

When you are on the marketing end, you may feel that direct mail, especially fundraisers and business mail, looks pretty vanilla. Maybe even bland.

So the urge is to pretty it up.

The hospital’s familiar happy logo is disguised here, but this envelope brings no bad news.

That is the case with this fundraising piece for a well known children’s hospital. For its sake, anonymity will prevail. But here is a 7-step rule book on designing fundraising mail.

1. Set the mood for urgent need.

A snappy colorful tease, but is it urgent?

To that end, use color and graphics sparingly, to best create a tone that delivers gravity, not levity. The envelope for this kit displays a cheery logo (disguised here) for the hospital. Understandably, it wants to convey happiness for its patients. But that’s not the right strategy for getting financial backing.

The OE features a spunky new pair of pink sneakers teasing the story of a cured patient, whose story is inside.

The “story inside” teaser is good. But the sneakers remind one of a Saturday morning kids TV show. Pretty, but not important.

2. Follow up with a personal request.

One of the most recognized personal media in existence is the letter. When we open an envelope, we are looking for it. The letter sets the agenda for the potential donor. This is who we are. Here’s our challenge, and how you can help.

There is a myth that people no longer read letters, and certainly not long ones. Not true! If your story is real, and the request is sincere, the letter will be read.

A potentially compelling story is delivered in challenging, small white type against a pink background.

Named, titled and signed, the letter provides basic credentials. A person is “at the other end of the mail box”.

This piece has no letter, but rather hangs its success on a two-page high color sell sheet.

3. Demonstrate and prove the wise use of donations to solve the problem.

Convince the donor that money is needed, and that it won’t be wasted.

The hospital has a goal of $135,000. What for? It is not apparent that it is short of funds, or solely supported by charitable donations. Not knowing that, why would a donor be moved to give?

A logical effort to monetize the services provided. But what are the Circles all about?

To its credit, the hospital does explain what your money will buy. It also presents operating statistics, and some official endorsements.

To put an edge on the numbers, show how many cases were turned away or disadvantaged for lack of funds.

4. Be legible and understandable.

Possibly the most difficult task of a senior donor is to read copy that is too small, and reversed out. In this case, important “ask copy” and narrative is in 8-point type, white on pink. Pink on black. Blue on white. Ouch!

The significance of the “Secret Guide” is just that: secret.

This piece also employs some secret code, uninterpretable by the cold prospect. The use of their “key” logo is un-explained, and a series of icons on the pledge card do not telegraph any meaning to the uninitiated.

5. Tie the Ask To A Specific Need.

The story in the piece relates to a child’s full recovery after an accident. The pledge card, and supporting copy don’t connect to the child’s need, or to the next child with a similar accident.

The list of financial values and associated services in the ad piece refer to Circles of Commitment and generous benefactors, but the recognition value of the Circles is not explained.

6. Urgency.

Any mailing’s strategy is aimed to get a response immediately. This fundraising piece needs some parameters to define the timely need for a donation. What will happen if they don’t reach $135,000? When will time run out?

7. Indispensability.

The mystery of the icons: how do they work?

The best direct mail is impossible to throw out. It just sits there on the kitchen table, or on the dresser until the responder finally acts. This piece lacks that important nagging factor.

A gift, a freemium, a stamp, a coin, a sample, a personalized card, a photograph, an address label set, are examples of items that are hard to ignore.

Unless the donor had already decided to contact the hospital, or the donor’s accountant recommended more charitable giving, there’s no reason to hang onto this piece.

$50 bucks? We haven’t even met!

Direct mail design is challenging because the mailer gets bored with the “same-old, same-old”. There is a temptation to jazz up the piece just to be different. After all, you mail out a few thousand, or a few million, and they all look the same!

Just remember: the recipient only gets one piece, and to that person, the piece is well distinguished, just by its mere arrival.

Thanks for reading! If your fundraising program is serious, make it look that way. There’s nothing more serious than asking for money.

direct mail, Economics, Marketing

AAA Goes Flat Out

The door opener!

Want to know what stops just about anyone when they open their mailbox?

No, not a boxing glove. Instead, it’s a flat. No, not a flat tire. A flat-sized mailing piece.

The 10 x 12 Flat. Size counts in direct mail.

So it is that I opened our mailbox to be confronted by a certificate-sized 10″ x 12″ envelope. Front and center, in portrait orientation, is an open window. As I peak through I see my name, in bold, printed below a 40-point, gothic type proclamation: Proof of Eligibility. The State of Illinois is symbolically positioned above.

This manifest is shielded behind a thin sheet of parchment. My reaction? Better open this now.

I am not that naiive, I know this is a solicitation. But still, eligible for what? Nomination? Higher taxes? Bronzing?

A beautiful label… applied on a slant, with raised shading, is actually printed, not real.

As it turns out, it is the AAA Life Insurance Company, who has decided to give me a second chance to insure my remaining days. Or until the age of 80, when all bets are off.

These are the same folks who sent along a policy kit a few months back. That one was a flat too: a “fulfillment package”. Presuming I am ready to sign up, it is essentially a welcome kit. Regrettably, and unknown to AAA, I am disqualified from obtaining coverage due to a shady past. So I deferred.

The official seal of eligibility.

The reason I highlight the new kit is to point out the allure and attraction of the envelope. “Proof of Eligibility” is vague. But when it is presented so elegantly, it works. How many of your incoming direct mail summons use parchment? 40-point Gothic? Not much I am guessing, since the Sheriff of Nottingham died.

The design strategy of this AAA kit is to get opened. My bet is that better than 90% of the recipients do open it. It is irresistible.

From there, the internals have to carry the freight.

The big question you should be asking is why spend the extra postage– probably 15 cents– to send an over-sized envelope?

The letter under the parchment, complete with filigree.

Do the math. In a standard #10 envelope, the kit, list and assembly would cost about $250/m. Postage, another $200/m. Total, $450/m.

Now lay the papers flat, and place them in a big envelope instead. Let’s say the production is cost neutral, but adding $150/m flat postage has just increased overall cost by 33%.

The bottom line in direct mail: raise your production cost 33%, you must increase response 33% too.

So if the small envelope garnered a 1% response, the flat needs 1.33% to stay in the game.

From personal experience, I know this is achievable, and judging from AAA’s use of flats before, it’s probably not unusual for them either.

By the way, what was I eligible for? Discounted premiums as an AAA member.

Thanks for reading! Never pass up the opportunity to go “big” in a mailing piece. The cost may frighten you, but usually higher response will cover it.

Marketing

Good Fences Make Good Customers

This is how some empowered employees saved the day for AT&T.

Once admitted, it becomes easier to say I am a traditionalist. As a result, I can explain and defend my choice of AT&T for our long distance carrier way back in 1990.

After all, what can be more solid a foundation than American Telephone & Telegraph, even today?

It was with a sense of comfort too, that we chose Illinois Bell as our local service provider. Again, “The Bell” is as American as it gets, though there are worthy claims that Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone in Brantford, Ontario, just a few miles from my home town.

Over time we were whip-sawed back and forth between Ameritech, Cingular, SBC Communications and Comcast Cable, but at the end of the day it was AT&T that ran the table.

Today we have two land lines, two cell phones, cable and Internet courtesy of AT&T. It is no surprise that they send us separate bills for each service, because when you add them all up, we are a primo account.

And despite the onslaught of Comcast who pursued us for years, we have stayed with AT&T.

Why? Three reasons, straight from Customer Goodwill 101.

First, AT&T brazenly gave us a $300 new account cash bonus, plus a monthly discount of about $50 for three months.

We shamelessly accepted. And then endured a three-hour visit from a techie in sanitary shoes who puttered around our house and basement drilling holes and tapping keyboards. He flashed a TV remote in front of us, and wished us good luck.

We are still trying to figure out the remote, but never mind.

Second, the modem died once, and after some tense withdrawal pangs, exacerbated by a frustrating phone diagnosis, a techie “snuck out” to our house under the pretense of doing a new install, and gave us a new modem.

“Don’t tell anyone I did this. We are really supposed to handle only new customers during the sales contest.” He fixed our problem, very much against the rules, I think.

Third, with the authorization of the Village, AT&T announced they were installing a new VRAM unit at the back corner of our lot. Armed with an “easement”, they came to take our tiny little green cable post away and replace it with a small nuclear reactor the size of a Uhaul trailer.

“It’s for Internet Mr. Brown. WiFi. We gotta put it here. We got approval from Village Hall.” He stared at our flower bed. “You want we should move your Mums over there maybe?”

Stunned, I asked, “You can just come here and do that?”

Waving a sheaf of papers, the contractor confirmed it, but then he went on.

“Actually, we’re gonna fix this up nice. We need about 30 square feet for the pad. We’ll put a nice cedar fence around it, and then some new dogwood and forsythia in front of that.”

“Unhunh.”

“There’s more actually.” The contractor eyed the shaky stockade fence across the back of our lot. “We’re gonna hook the fence up to yours. But while we’re at it, why don’t we just give you a new fence, too?”

“Really? You’ll do that?”

“Why not? You’re a good customer.”

Bingo!

True to their word, the new box went in, the new fence went up, and the bushes flowered the coming spring.

In return, we still pay egregious amounts of money on three separate bills. Once a week I mow around their humming VRAM, faithfully and carefully so as not to upset whatever it is doing in there.

And, we still scratch our heads about the remote.

Thanks for reading this through to the end! You know, a good customer can be hard to find, but another good customer can be even harder. Train your employees to keep the ones you have.

Marketing, Thank You

What Makes Your Brand Stick

Our 1950 Chevy: ready to roll.

Some imprints last forever. Your first bank account. Your first cola. My parents’ car was a strong imprint for me. We had GM cars since the dawn of life it seemed. So my compass was frozen on GM: Chevy, Buick, Oldsmobile, even the Vega!

The 1986 Olds Cutlass Cruiser Wagon.

Our first big car in my family of four was an Olds Ciera wagon: the Cutlass Cruiser. We bought it 1986, and loved it so much, we bought another, just like it, in 1990.

Recalling the day, I walked in to our local Cadillac Olds dealer, pointed out our car to the sales rep, and said, “Just give me another, like that one.”

Within the day, I drove a new Cutlass Cruiser off the lot. Pretty much the same color, had the same cool rear-facing third bench seat the kids loved. The only upgrades: Electronic Fuel Injection had replaced the carburetor, and air conditioning and FM radio.

People still ask if there’s a rear-facing seat today.

I kept the hand crank windows just in case we drove off a bridge into water and couldn’t get the doors opened.

When people asked why I liked the Cruiser so much, I had a bunch of responses, but always described how I could get a 4×8′ sheet of plywood in the back window without opening the rear door.

So the day came along when I decided to get a new wagon, and I returned to the dealer, walked in, pointed out my Olds to the sales rep, and I said, “Just give me another, like that one.”

The guy looked at me like I had just wandered in from the woods.

“You’re kidding, right? No wagons here. Not anywhere.” A bit of a smirk, “Oh wait, maybe you can get a Volvo, or a Saturn.”

I was stunned. I had been in the woods, asleep for at least 7 years during which time “station wagons” had been driven (haha) to extinction by GM.

“How about a Hummer?”

I walked out in a daze.

One of GM’s innovations: the hatch window.

Knowing I couldn’t let the Cruiser go, I chose instead to get it painted. I could live with it if at least it looked new.

The last Cutlass in 1999. A low-fat ghost of prior greatness.

In 2007, I wrote GM a note about my car, filling in the owner’s survey. I was 17 years late.

They wrote back: “It was especially interesting to hear your Oldsmobile has traveled 229,318 miles…” I was pleased to get the response, and also from a real person. I read on, “we would be remiss, however, not to suggest that you look closely at our new Cutlass at your local dealership..”

Alas, unbeknownst to GM, the last Cutlass had rolled off the line in 1999.

You can listen to the humming of the wheels...

It went for miles and miles…

Fast forward, the Cruiser became my commute car, and I tacked on the miles.

Incredibly, it never ground to a halt. With the occasional makeover on wheels, alternators, batteries, brakes, suspension and mufflers, the Olds just kept on rolling.

How? By regular, faithful tune-ups.

Jiffy Lube gives me and my Olds a pat on the back.

Every 3,000 miles I drove in to JiffyLube and let them soothe the Olds’ jangled commuted nerves. That’s where they knew my name, too. Pretty cool!

Lo and behold, in March 2011, I notched 300,000 miles.

Jiffy Lube (Shell Corp) blessed me with a year’s free oil changes, and a PR push that got me radio interviews and some pub in the local news.

A 2014 testimonial to a brand that won’t quit.

Is there a lesson here? Several. First off, stick with the one who brought you to the dance. I still drive my Olds wagon. And I hold a torch for General Motors. Who knows, the Cutlass may return.

Second, seek out faithful, loyal customers and celebrate them. I always take my cars to Jiffy Lube.

Third, never smirk at a potential sales inquiry. I have never purchased another car from the dealer who said, “no” in so few words.

That is the view from the rear-facing seat.

Marketing

Customer Service: Loyal Forever

One simple act of thoughtfulness committed me to ACE Hardware forever.

Sunday morning, nearly 25 years ago, I discovered our kitchen faucet dripping uncontrollably into the dark spaces below our sink.

Ever notice how they bury all those pipes in tight dark spaces? If you are 2 feet tall, you have infinite opportunity as a plumber.

The ACE Hardware in our town was one of our happiest discoveries while moving to our new home. It was where I found that most plumbing solutions were assembled and designed for do-it-yourselfers like me.

Fully confident that I could replace the faucet, I walked into the store and with a foggy image of what I needed, armed with drawings and measurements, I bought stuff.

I had help. The plumbing guy there picked it all out for me.

At home, I took a break for lunch, and afterwards spread all the new parts across the floor, preparing to install a brand new faucet, with all the fixings.

One of the basic life rules that I adopted at early age is: “You will need to go back to the hardware store at least once.”

Indeed, after turning off the water, and undoing some foundational pipes, I realized I had measured badly. So packing up the merchandise, I returned to the store, and the plumbing guy set me straight with new stuff.

The afternoon slipped by as I puttered with the pipes, and rings and washers and bushings and other pieces I had never seen before in my life.

The truth is, we had a cold Sunday dinner as the water was still turned off, and I had encountered additional under-the-sink challenges which had telescoped my supposedly quick DIY job into a kind of major plumbing overhaul.

The kitchen floor was cluttered with wrenches and pipes and fittings lined up like the landing craft on D-Day.

A second life rule is: ” ‘At least once’ means ‘probably more like two or three times’ .”

As it turned out, I returned to the store 15 minutes before closing time, desperate to get my pipe problems resolved. The plumbing guy was there, packing up his stuff, thermos on the counter, ready to go.

He walked towards me as I held a plastic bag with the parts, the manufacturer’s instructions, and a look of defeat on my face.

“Whaddyagot?”

I explained how some part wouldn’t work, how water oozed out, and how I was now the source of my family’s extreme disappointment.

With that, he emptied the bag onto the floor of the store. Next he arranged every piece in sequence according to the manufacturer.

“Yunno, the instructions don’t always account for little details. Let’s add a couple of these.” He added an additional set of washers.

Satisfied, he watched as I drew the configuration onto my notes, and smiled.

“OK, that’s going to work. Count on it.”

He gathered up all the plastic and bars and steel fittings, put them back into the bag, and walked me to the door as the counter staff was heading for the light switch.

Back home, I was greeted by the family, who looked like relatives called to the hospital, waiting for the surgeon’s bad news.

Again on my knees in the kitchen, I assembled the pipes and clinched the last into place. Down in the basement, I turned the water back on.

Then upstairs to the sink where I flipped on the brand new sparkling faucet, and rejoiced with the steady clear stream of water. Under the sink: dry as a bone.

The lesson from all of this was that DIY is challenging, but also very satisfying when it works. More important, ACE’s plumbing guy had stuck by me, and saw the job through.

As a result, I have been a raving fan, ever since.

direct mail, Marketing

Victoria, Golf and Testing

Every magazine’s sales tool: the “blow-in” card.

The beauty of direct mail is that you can test to find out what works.

So that is why Victoria’s Secret and Golf Magazine enjoy your attention today.

“Pretty” is nice, but in direct mail it’s the offer that counts.

Opening the December issue of Golf Magazine, 4 different blow-in cards fluttered onto the kitchen table.

Why 4? Because there are a number of triggers to test on the reader.

This card focuses on the discount off regular price.

The FREE gift is the sales incentive here.

Buy one, get one free for a friend, plus a FREE gift.

As it turns out three of the cards have identical offers, but each with a different deal. Or look. One will feature the discount off the cover price. Two will bathe the reader in yellow ink, but one of those is really pushing the FREE gift–a really cool Golf Distance Finder, with “BEST DEAL!” screaming to check the top box. The fourth card is a gift sub card, making a two-for-one deal, plus a very classy Free Gear Bag.

Each card is key-coded to track which works best. Kudos to the subscription manager who recognizes that one deal does not suit all people.

Based on response, you can bet they will tweak the next set of cards, but odds are, they won’t reduce the count: four.

Now turn to Victoria’s Secret, where we get two mailers within the same week, each taking pre-eminent positioning at the kitchen table during lunch.

The mission of these cards is to drive traffic. At least one will snag the reader.

May I note that the “staff” over at Victoria’s don’t probably enjoy lunch?

Fortunately, they do get full, heated-room privileges, which accounts for their restive, but somewhat hungered composure.

The two mailings are spectacular for their origami and construction. Best of all, each mailer contains 4 different mini-cards with specific deals.

Each card’s mission is to entice the shopper to get to the store.
If the Free panty doesn’t do it, the Free Tote Bag will.

The advantage of personal direct mail– the ability to track and analyze.

The production on these pieces is clever. One is a 10-page booklet, with 4 mini-cards attached to one page. The back of each card has a live bar code on it. Meaning they can track response to the mailing, the offer, and yup, to the shopper too. Yikes!

Four cards in a 10-page mailing: unstoppable!

The cards themselves are 24 mil, meaning for you lay folks, thick enough to jimmy a hotel lock.

But they are small, demanding less space in your wallet or purse.

I recall as a small youngster having a wad of direct mail coupons which I pretended were dollar bills….kept them in my plastic wallet. I liked flashing “money” when shopping with my mother. I don’t think she would have gone for the Victoria’s cards so much.

Testing through direct mail offers the luxury of control: distribution, offer, targeting and tracking. When done well, marketers can get the most for their dollar spent. That means they learn to send you things you like, and don’t send you things that turn you off.

Sharing testing strategies across different media, like mail and magazines is also productive, and enhances perspective.

“Gee Dad, it looks better over here!”

So I wonder, could we test the FREE Golf Distance Finder with Victoria’s Secret?

Thanks for reading this far! I hope your mail box provides as much enjoyment as does mine!

direct mail, Marketing

Presidential Letter-Writing: Good, Bad and You Know…

A key principle of direct mail strategy is building the personal connection. Traditional mail order mavens personalize a relationship with a letter from the president, or owner of the business. When a customer buys, not only are they endorsing the product, but they are also connecting with the owner, who is implicitly guaranteeing satisfaction.

So when you are making the choice to use a letter or not, you are really deciding, “is this going to be personal, or just business?” Put another way, is this admail, or direct mail?

Within the letter-signing world however, there are good and bad examples.

The best is the personally signed note. Not economical, but surely convincing.

The least persuasive is the typeset signature. Paranoiacally concerned a signature analyst is going to tear it apart.

But there is something far more worrying.

Perusing the news, I saw a photograph of the President’s signature on the Affordable Care Act. Put aside the law’s contents, what was striking was the shaky signature.

As if our leader had pauses in memory, moments of hesitation, stopping half way through a letter, and then continuing the curve until the next stop.

You may already know this, but in case you have been a life-long libertarian ignoring all laws, and thus this quirky writing habit of CEOs, the jerky writing is attributed to using multiple pens to sign the official document.

In the case of the ACA, there were 22 pens. See how healthcare costs add up so quickly?

But I digress. I did a search on this multiple pen phenomenon, and up popped a Time Magazine article with the same signature incident, along with the headline suggesting that our President may have an undiagnosed case of OCD.

See how a signature creates an image?

Obsessive-compulsive or not, one cannot mail a lot in a full 12-hour day with this type of pen-stutter.

Better, is the thoughtful touch of our third President, Thomas Jefferson.

Recognizing the power of automation, married seamlessly to manual control, he introduced the polygraph to the Department of State. This contraption was invented in 1803 by John Isaac Hawkins, of Frankford, Pennsylvania.

Using the polygraph Jefferson was able to create up to five letters with one sweep of the pen.

Did he know how important direct mail fundraising would become 200 years later?

direct mail, Marketing, Politics

Fall Seat Sale: The Check’s In the Mail

A dollar a seat… get ’em while they’re hot!

My walk to the mailbox today was rewarded with a letter from John McCain’s desk.

It was especially exciting to get his letter, because he enclosed a personal check! Usually this works the other way around.

Anyway, I opened his letter to find a check for $36 bucks. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending upon your political stripe, it was made out to the Republican National Committee.

This is a very crafty gambit.

Is it really the desk writing? I wonder.

Seldom do we receive checks, and this one, measuring a modest 6″ x 2-3/4″ looks like the real thing.

What I liked about the approach of this fundraiser was the rationale. The U.S. Senate has 36 seats up for grabs in the mid-term election, and McCain is donating a dollar for each seat.

I know, I know. It should be more, but hey, have you seen his suits?

Sartorial comments aside, the dollar-a-seat strategy is a door opener for the tight-fisted, like me. He is asking me to match his donation.

But I am puzzled. The RNC goes on to say it requires only $8,000,000 in the next ten days. This seems like chicken feed compared to the dollars normally needed to buy an election. I hope they know what they are doing.

The envelope needs to be opened, just to see the check!

In any event, they are counting on 222,222 folks like me, at $36 each, to respond. At a 2% response rate, they must be asking over 11 million people.

I will leave the financial logistics to the back room guys.

I would point out, however, that after wresting $36 from my cold, thrifty mitts, John could have at least coughed up an additional 49-cents for the stamp on the return envelope.

A stamp! A stamp! The Senate for want of a stamp!

You see, the face value of a stamp may seem like a lot to the RNC, but in this case, each one is worth $36 dollars.

Don’t forget to vote!

Phil Brown

"Like triple cream– rich, pungent, a little barnyardy, and spreads easily. A good cheese."

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