I have a weakness for premiums, so when The Incentive Show comes to town it’s as if a traveling sideshow, a political convention and a Broadway opening have been rolled into one and dropped on my doorstep. Sadly, the items members of the promotions industry refer to as “toasters and trash,” (usually after sampling several bottles of wine with customized labels) are difficult to work into direct marketing campaigns.
But a few savvy exhibitors are trying. In spring 2003, St. Louis, MO-based Fling USA began imprinting copy and logos right onto the four-inch pouches these folded, ten-inch flying disks come in. As promotional literature boasts, “This direct mailer not only gets open, it gets tossed everywhere – except in the trash!” (It also snaps to its full width when pulled out of the pouch, and may scare the hell out prospects. But that’s all in the name of fun, eh?)
Nearly 1 million people have had Flings flung at them as part of 25 mail campaigns, according to Fling national sales manager Scott H. Conradi. He was quick to cite response rates – in the low double-digits – but a bit slower to come up with actual case histories. The Flings are still cute.
Wf360, New York, offered Leading Questions – a series of statements from “the world’s greatest business minds” printed on slips of paper and then (alongside marketing materials) inserted into either metal lunchboxes or canisters. As Susan Willett Bird, the company’s founder and CEO, said, the questions allow prospectors to start a dialogue – and move toward establishing a relationship.
So much for the standouts. Someday, somebody is going to figure out how incorporate stuffed animals, a crass menagerie of which were on display, into direct response marketing campaigns. At the Douglas booth, workers were handing out Dalmatians to anyone they spotted. “We just need 99 more,” an apparently Disney-obsessed patron commented, as she walked away clutching two dogs.
Cute and cuddly? Yes. But likely to wind up either in a crib or toy chest? Also yes. And unless the item in question is specifically child-related, this is a rotten venue for a logo. As Fran Lebowitz wrote in “Metropolitan Life,” “Children are rarely in the position to lend one a truly interesting sum of money. There are, however, exceptions, and such children are an excellent addition to any party.”
Tic-Tongs, which are flavored tongue depressors, exemplify another premium bugaboo: If a premium’s proper place is in a mouth, company logos don’t belong on it. This is true of chocolate – can you remember anything written on a piece of chocolate that was neither “Godiva” nor “Hershey’s”? -- and doubly true of items with a medical connotation.
And who would want to? It’s hard to imagine a parent looking at a set of inflamed tonsils, and then having the presence of mind to realize that the examination instrument is also a five-dollar coupon for Lion King videos. Not to mention kinda icky.
And then there were the truly bizarre items. Housewares International of Vernon, CA offered a chess-and-checkers set in which the pieces were shot glasses. And just down the aisle an enterprising lad was hawking single-use Breathalyzer pens, which would certainly send an interesting message to a prospect. (“We keep you out of jail so you can place an order with us” perhaps?)
Finally, for those who would visit a premiums show exhibit hall, I offer the following caution: Sporting equipment, such as golf-related items, does not have a specific direct marketing application on its own. Additionally, it is folly to tease a booth worker holding a #1 wood club. Hopefully by the start of bathing suit season the “polnuD” imprint I earned will have faded.
To respond to the opinions in this column, please contact rlevey@primediabusiness.com
