Comcast Corp. Has found what it believes is a good substitute for direct mail in some markets: Door hangers.

That’s right. The telecom giant launched a 280,000-piece campaign in Denver earlier this month for its voice over Internet protocol (VoIP) digital telephone service.

Why door hangers? Because they draw a whole new group of responders, according to Bill Borneman, CEO of Power Direct Marketing, the company that developed the campaign.

This is not the first time Comcast has tried the medium. Last summer it distributed 150,000 pieces to Hispanic families in Denver and Miami to promote Cable-Latino Spanish-language cable television service. The effort drew a 1.5% response, Borneman said.

For the VoIP campaign, Comcast used lists of local households with high computer penetration, then overlaid them with geodemographic data.

Borneman estimated that a comparable mailing probably would cost only $25,000 more. Then why use door hangers? To avoid mailbox clutter, he said.

Comcast is not the only company to use them. Electronics retailer Best Buy tested oversize door hangers to promote its Reward Zone customer loyalty program. It started in April with a 500,000-piece trial in Minneapolis, Boston, Indianapolis, New York and Phoenix.

That followed several 100,000-piece efforts for Best Buy’s Geek Squad computer support service in San Jose, CA and Madison, WI. This

If you’re planning on moving anytime soon, I have some advice. Don’t! Stay put! So your roof leaks and every house on the block has been burglarized twice in the past month. GET OVER IT! No matter how bad things seem, putting all your possessions into a truck and running away isn’t the answer.

Forgive me. As you might have guessed by the above paragraph, I’m in a post-move/pre-organized household phase. At various times over the past month, I’ve gone through just about every cross-state moving problem one could imagine. Those dilemmas – and normal new-resident-related hoo-hah – brought me in contact with a plethora of customer service phone lines.

Technology has given us many convenient ways to avoid talking to other human beings. We use answering machines to screen out unwanted callers. We let calls go right into voice mail when we’re too busy to pick up the phone. And we opt for e-mail when we’d rather type out a quick note than engage in lengthy chitchat.

So it was a humbling experience when I found myself dialing the phone several times recently, desperately wanting there to be someone, anyone, on the other end of the line who had a pulse and spoke at least a little English.

One instance was just prior to the move, when I wasn’t neck deep in chaos. (Ah, those were the days.) I read on a Web news site that an item I had wanted to order for awhile was finally available direct from the manufacturer. I went to the company’s e-commerce site, but couldn’t find it listed. Naturally, I then dialed the manufacturer’s 800 number, expecting to be greeted by a rep happy to take my money.

Instead, I was ensnared by (insert ominous music here) the phone tree.

Press 1 if you’d like this, press 2 if you’d like that…but press nothing if you wanted the item I desired. Being a plucky sort, I pressed away, sure that I’d eventually be able to transfer to a sentient being. Nope. I hung up disappointed, with my wallet none the lighter despite my best efforts.

(Two weeks later, via a general customer service number posted on the site, I finally got the information I needed. But I still haven’t placed the order. The impulse-buy urge is gone.)

A big chunk of the soon-to-be-moving gal’s life is taken up by the tedium of address changes. Most went smoothly and quickly – only one magazine tried to upsell me another year while I was on the line – and I found my way to a live rep with no trouble.

The one exception was an airline I have an abundance of frequent flyer miles with. I called its customer service number and listened to scads of options, hearing only one that sounded vaguely like it might suit my situation. I pressed it and was given a variety of addresses for shipping freight to the carrier.

Huh? I waited for a prompt back to the main menu and was disconnected. Hmmmph. I dialed again, hit an option at random and was connected to a rep who handled my request with efficiency and ease.

OK, I’ve anonymously given two marketers demerits. Let’s even the score and give two others gold stars for their tele-efforts.

The day after we were to arrive at our new home, I’d arranged for installation of a new phone line. Circumstances beyond my control (a broken-down car) meant I wouldn’t arrive when planned. I called my local carrier and was almost immediately connected to a rep who – with good humor that was much needed at that moment – helped me reschedule the installation.

That night, because our car was still under the weather, I had to switch a furniture delivery scheduled for the next day. The rep quickly assisted me, noting if it would help she’d be happy to call my place of business an hour before the slated arrival so I could get home for the delivery and not waste my entire day waiting.

The day before the rescheduled delivery, the store called to confirm. And after the delivery, the store called to make sure everything was OK and I was happy with my purchase. A nice touch, and one that encourages me to shop there again.

So now that the move is behind us, I’m settled (sort of) in my new home and all that’s left is to sit back and wait for all the nifty new-resident offers direct marketers will most certainly send my way. Aluminum siding, storm windows, lawn care, gutter cleaning…it’s just all so glorious!

Sure, I’m just a lowly apartment renter with no authority to purchase such luxuries.

But it’s nice to be asked.