Thursday, March 11, 2004
Loneliness in Sequins
There's a moment that occurs during every sale -- I call it the reckoning -- in which the hurdle is presented. Here it is, the salesperson says: you know where it's placed, when it comes, how tall it sits . . . now will you jump?
What this hurdle is depends on the sale. For many items it's price. One can watch 20 minutes of RONCO, with Ron cooking up every kind of meat on a spit one could dream of; one can learn about the ease, the convenience, the free gifts, how healthy it is, but eventually, the hurdle comes: how many monthly payments of $39.95 will it be?
Buying a car, the hurdle is sitting down in that chair, listening to all those little fees they don't mention in the ads.
I used to sell furniture over the phone. The hurdle I had to clear was not so much price, as it was delivery: "Do you folks have anyone to help carry in that 435-lb desk? Because this comes on a freight truck, and the driver only brings it to the back of the truck."
I think the toughest hurdle to sell, though, is that involving late-night dating phone lines. I don't mean phone sex -- that's a topic bizarre enough for its own post. I mean the ads that say, something to the effect of: "Ready to talk to hot singles in your area?" You've seen them. Any time between 10:30 pm and 5:00 am, these ads, featuring only the most beautiful people on earth, boast that you can always reach someone live right now.
What is the hurdle? The lack of logic. For example:
1.) Let's say one calls one of these local hook-up lines at 2:30 on a Tuesday morning. What do you talk about at 2:30 am on a Tuesday?
2.) The customer also has to move past the illogical concept of any of these beautiful people in the ads being on the phone (unless one finds it believable that a woman would do her hair and makeup, get in a slinky red dress, all for an anonymous phone call). Moreover, one must thoroughly accept the idea that with whom he or she speaks may not be beautiful, who they say they are, the sex they claim to be, etc, etc.
3.) The customer also must buy into the fact that all these people on the local lines are -- as the ads say -- exciting singles. In other words, one must ignore the question of, "If these people are so exciting, why are they calling up complete strangers?"
4.) Assuming the customer were able to make those leaps of faith, he or she must also be blessed with loads of confidence (or alcohol). Why? Because if the customer truly believes the people with whom he or she will speak are exciting, then the customer must see him- or herself as one of these exciting people. The sell here is about making people believe it's more exciting talking to strangers over the phone rather than in person.
5.) Then, assuming the ad can conquer all of these challenges in the mind of its customer . . . . The customer has to be so convinced of the singles line that he or she will pay for it. People actually shell out their hard-earneds for this torture.
Just who are these people who call the singles lines? Better yet -- what do they say to each other once they are connected? That's what I really want to know.
There's small talk: "How's it goin'?" "Beautiful day today, wasn't it?" God, this must be painful to sit through. There's got to be a few moments during the small-talk, when the urge to just hang up the phone must be nearly uncontrollable.
There's the idiotic: "So what are you up to tonight?" What the hell does one respond with? Is anyone who calls these lines doing anything when they make the decision to call the singles line? Will anyone really say, "I'm so lonely, I haven't talked to anyone but my work colleague in three days. I don't know anybody here. So I thought I'd call this phone number." Or would anyone say the opposite? "Yeah, I've been so busy lately! Life is just great! All my friends and I just got back from a party, I'm in the middle of a game of naked Twister, I have an after-bar to attend next door, but I just thought I'd call a stranger!"
There's locating: "So did you grow up here?" Ah, yes: what can we find that is common.
There's the embarrassment: "I've never called one of these before, have you?"
There's the idiotic blunt: "Wanna come over and party?" I suppose I could write a nice long rant on the appropriate use of the word "party" as a verb, but I think my opinion is already pretty clear, no?
The hurdle of the singles lines is really a chasm -- that which is between the pictures of beautiful people prepped for TV, and the reality of a strange voice on the phone; that which divides the introverts from the extroverts.
It's time to call my wife and thank her.
What this hurdle is depends on the sale. For many items it's price. One can watch 20 minutes of RONCO, with Ron cooking up every kind of meat on a spit one could dream of; one can learn about the ease, the convenience, the free gifts, how healthy it is, but eventually, the hurdle comes: how many monthly payments of $39.95 will it be?
Buying a car, the hurdle is sitting down in that chair, listening to all those little fees they don't mention in the ads.
I used to sell furniture over the phone. The hurdle I had to clear was not so much price, as it was delivery: "Do you folks have anyone to help carry in that 435-lb desk? Because this comes on a freight truck, and the driver only brings it to the back of the truck."
I think the toughest hurdle to sell, though, is that involving late-night dating phone lines. I don't mean phone sex -- that's a topic bizarre enough for its own post. I mean the ads that say, something to the effect of: "Ready to talk to hot singles in your area?" You've seen them. Any time between 10:30 pm and 5:00 am, these ads, featuring only the most beautiful people on earth, boast that you can always reach someone live right now.
What is the hurdle? The lack of logic. For example:
1.) Let's say one calls one of these local hook-up lines at 2:30 on a Tuesday morning. What do you talk about at 2:30 am on a Tuesday?
2.) The customer also has to move past the illogical concept of any of these beautiful people in the ads being on the phone (unless one finds it believable that a woman would do her hair and makeup, get in a slinky red dress, all for an anonymous phone call). Moreover, one must thoroughly accept the idea that with whom he or she speaks may not be beautiful, who they say they are, the sex they claim to be, etc, etc.
3.) The customer also must buy into the fact that all these people on the local lines are -- as the ads say -- exciting singles. In other words, one must ignore the question of, "If these people are so exciting, why are they calling up complete strangers?"
4.) Assuming the customer were able to make those leaps of faith, he or she must also be blessed with loads of confidence (or alcohol). Why? Because if the customer truly believes the people with whom he or she will speak are exciting, then the customer must see him- or herself as one of these exciting people. The sell here is about making people believe it's more exciting talking to strangers over the phone rather than in person.
5.) Then, assuming the ad can conquer all of these challenges in the mind of its customer . . . . The customer has to be so convinced of the singles line that he or she will pay for it. People actually shell out their hard-earneds for this torture.
Just who are these people who call the singles lines? Better yet -- what do they say to each other once they are connected? That's what I really want to know.
There's small talk: "How's it goin'?" "Beautiful day today, wasn't it?" God, this must be painful to sit through. There's got to be a few moments during the small-talk, when the urge to just hang up the phone must be nearly uncontrollable.
There's the idiotic: "So what are you up to tonight?" What the hell does one respond with? Is anyone who calls these lines doing anything when they make the decision to call the singles line? Will anyone really say, "I'm so lonely, I haven't talked to anyone but my work colleague in three days. I don't know anybody here. So I thought I'd call this phone number." Or would anyone say the opposite? "Yeah, I've been so busy lately! Life is just great! All my friends and I just got back from a party, I'm in the middle of a game of naked Twister, I have an after-bar to attend next door, but I just thought I'd call a stranger!"
There's locating: "So did you grow up here?" Ah, yes: what can we find that is common.
There's the embarrassment: "I've never called one of these before, have you?"
There's the idiotic blunt: "Wanna come over and party?" I suppose I could write a nice long rant on the appropriate use of the word "party" as a verb, but I think my opinion is already pretty clear, no?
The hurdle of the singles lines is really a chasm -- that which is between the pictures of beautiful people prepped for TV, and the reality of a strange voice on the phone; that which divides the introverts from the extroverts.
It's time to call my wife and thank her.
