The northeast has been locked into a heat-and-humidity wave for much of the month. Weather reports tease blessed relief in the form of potential thunderstorms. When the rains do come, they don’t cool.
In short, it is a time of perspiration. According to the traditional formula, every one measure of inspiration should be followed by 99 measures of perspiration. It is not unreasonable to expect the reverse hold true.
But it hasn’t, if my mailbox is any indication. The credit card companies – far and away the most aggressive mailers – have been sending envelopes that are uniform in thickness and outer design. These fall into two camps: Those that tout interest rates with large numerals that fall off the sides of the envelopes, and those that implore recipients “Please do not discard.”
Whether they differentiate themselves on the inside, I couldn’t say: I haven’t been inspired enough to open the envelopes before shredding and dumping them. Outer envelopes reduced to begging recipients not to throw them away haven’t done their job. These are prospects receiving them, not almsgivers.
This is a far cry from the intriguing packages of yesteryear, which featured tokens, pennies, intriguing questions, and enough variation in size and heft that they didn’t have to beg not to be thrown away. These were mailings that immediately titillated – why DO I close the bathroom door, even when nobody else is home? What is the one food item never to order on an airline? – instead of cajoled.
(You know that these efforts are from times past. When was the last time one had a meal, much less a choice, on an airplane? The only reason I know that British Airways still serves food is because for a brief period last week, they weren’t. Oh, and one is not supposed to eat scrambled eggs offered on an airplane – the crew adds newly reconstituted egg mix to pre-created old eggs. As for the bathroom – that’s a matter of personal pathology.)
The closest thing to clever I’ve seen is a mailing from would-be Manhattan borough president Carlos Manzano. His postcard touting a fundraiser features a few apple icons, reflecting his name – the Spanish word for “apple tree” – as well as New York City, “The Big Apple,” itself. C’mon, Carlos, not even a special apple martini at the fundraiser’s cash bar? Someone’s asleep at the word processor.
Friends, prove me wrong. Is there perspiration in the direct mail mills? I know these are not terrifically comfortable economic times: Do any of you have evidence that a direct mailer has stepped beyond the boundaries of tried-and-true this summer to break through mailbox clutter? If so, please share ‘em: We’ve got five more weeks of summer and thunderstorms. I’d like to think all that perspiration and precipitation has brought at least a little inspiration.
To respond to the opinions in this column, please contact e-mail: rlevey@primediabusiness.com
