THE DIRECT RESPONSE INDUSTRY AGREED, AT LEAST A COUPLE of hundred years ago, that the key operative word for our messages is “you.”
But have you noticed a not-so-subtle shift in the use of “you” since the Web instituted its palace coup and took command of the medium? In prehistoric times (the year 1995 will do quite nicely), we used “you” as an apparently respected selling target. The closest we’d come to a command would be a tentative “You’re going to like this…” approach. An occasional brave marketer would start a selling argument with “Don’t” — a questionable “you” substitute for dynamic salesmanship.
The imperious “you” has pushed the supplicating “you” out of its once-dominant posture as the primary use of that once-magic word. Oddly, that negative evolution seems to have taken its strongest hold in direct mail, the ex-champion. Or maybe it just seems that way because we’re long since used to e-mail as the voice from mysterious and self-appointed commanders-in-chief of our shortened attention spans.
Here’s a mailing that in years past might have said, “Do you qualify for this tax savings…and not even know it?” This is not your father’s mailbox, because the 2005 version is, “You probably qualify for this tax savings. Guess what. You don’t even know it.”
The difference isn’t a subtle one. Vendor announces superiority over prospect. Now, that in itself isn’t new; what’s new is the epidemic nature of this approach and the increasing fascistic attitude: “Und you vill do it.” Snap-paks used to say, “To open, fold and tear along perforation.” The 2005 version: “Fold and tear along perforation.” Ja, mein Fuehrer.
I’m not a fan of phony gentility such as “The favor of your reply is requested.” But neither am I a total fan of the 2005 version, on the envelope of a newsletter subscription mailing: “Answer this right now.” It has a nasty “Or else” overtone that clarifies, on a dangerous level, the relationship between sender and recipient.
One moment, please: Why do I qualify my opinion with the hedge “a total> fan”? Because of the Cardinal Rule of Envelope Copy: The purpose of the carrier envelope, other than keeping its contents from spilling out onto the street, is to get itself opened. So “Answer this right now” will spur some casual letter-tossers to hold this aside and maybe open it. (Inside, the insult from Mount Olympus continues: “Good for you. You’re not one of those dummies.”)
Are we advancing the cause of our noble profession by swatting the recipients of our mail with two-by-fours? What will be the ultimate result of a degenerative trend, in which message sender is emperor and message recipient is serf?
Persuasion is an art. Pronouncing a command isn’t an art. That, in obvious fact, is the difference between democracy and dictatorship…or, on our level, between salesmanship and a desperate assumption of power.
Oh, certainly we don’t want to abandon the imperative voice; we just should know how to use it. So as salespeople we’d better understand when to write “You should,” when to write the low-octane “Why you should,” when to write “Shouldn’t you,” when to write from the middle pump “You’d better,” and when to write the high-test “Do this.”
Motorists know that some of the most powerful cars run on 87 octane, not 93, and in fact spur the buying impulse because they achieve equal or better results. Telling me I need high octane so my Morris Minor (or for that matter my Lincoln Town Car) will run better is an opinion masquerading as an order.
Contemporary competitive word-use seems to be prompting an increasing number of militaristic practitioners. They feel the dictatorial approach will cause the addressee’s knee to bend. Are they right? If they are, what does the future hold for force communication? (Note the two previous sentences, ending with question marks. After all, a question is 95%-plus less likely to irritate than is a command.)
A qualifier for the most obnoxious first sentence of the year: “You disappoint me.” Gee, what a warm and fuzzy greeting. Buddy, whoever you are, I have every intention of disappointing you. You’re adding to the load all of us in direct marketing are carrying — the load of accusations that we aren’t legitimate because we insult instead of stroke.
Mailings such as this parallel the situation in a major city. A visitor is mugged. Immediately, the entire city becomes the perpetrator.
If you don’t think it’s easy to be imperative without being obnoxious, you just don’t qualify as a force-communicator.
Here’s one from the source of the original sin, e-mail — a subject line that says, “Don’t you dare ignore this.” As I carefully ignored this, I wondered how many of these sneaked past the various spam filters on others’ computers.
We, as the for-profit mirrors of our times, certainly know we’re mired eyeball-deep in the Age of Skepticism. Nobody wants to take orders — not children from their parents, not students from their teachers, and not potential customers or clients from their potential suppliers. When we risk prompting that deadly “Who are you to tell me what to do?” reaction, we risk lower response …unless our authoritative statement is itself perceived as a response to a “Tell me what to do” plea.
Hey, that’s salesmanship. Salesmanship is what we do, if we’re to compete in the contemporary marketing madhouse. Or, to resuscitate that conditional word again, it’s what we should do.
HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS (www.herschellgordonlewis.com) is the principal of Lewis Enterprises in Fort Lauderdale, FL. He consults with and writes direct response copy for clients worldwide. His most recently published 28th book is the curmudgeonly titled “Asinine Advertising.” Among his other books are “On the Art of Writing Copy” (third edition), “Marketing Mayhem” and “Effective E-mail Marketing.”
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