Ever hear the phrase “information optimizing”? It’s a favorite of mine. I admire creative people who use creative thinking to project a creative halo around a creative idea. Information optimizing is behind one of my favorite rules, the Generic Determination Rule: The generic determines reaction more than the number.
The rule points out that 60 seconds seems to be less than one minute. One pint is less than half a quart. Attention is to the generic, seconds and minutes. If you don’t believe the rule, ask yourself, “What if McDonald’s `Quarter Pounder’ had been named McDonald’s `Four Ouncer’?”
So in keeping with that rule, I sort of admire the ad headed “A Historic First” for the “World’s First Year 2000 Golden Dollar,” which claims to contain “124.41 grams (1,920 grains) of Pure Silver.” Note: I said sort of admire. After all, a grain of silver is .002 ounces, so 1,920 grains is 3.84 ounces. And the statement would have been stronger without “grains,” a word that emphasizes smallness. But consider: To the American-educated (or uneducated) experience, grams and grains are exotic; ounces are mundane.
This “Golden Proof” of the new Sacagawea dollar is 3 inches in diameter and priced at $99. Is it, in fact, a superdollar, acceptable across the counter at banks and McDonald’s? Copy says it’s “an exquisite adaptation.” Although I’d prefer 99 of the originals, I have to say: Nice job of information optimizing, guys.
I can’t be as benevolent toward other deliberate obfuscations, including a “Mint” whose headline uses an ungrammatical pomposity: “Announcing an Historic Release…” An historic? I’ve seen that too often, and one of my recurring nightmares is that “an historic” will worm its way into common usage. I guess we’ll see it in an history book.
Ahh, let’s move on. The line “How have the mighty fallen!” applies most appropriately to the American Express Platinum Card. I’ve had a Platinum Card seemingly forever, and even though it costs $300 a year, I’ve used it both for protection against deals that might not be as represented and for frequent flyer miles. Now here comes a mailing from Platinum Card, headed “IMPORTANT NOTICE.” Uh-oh. The Important Notice is insidious enough to warrant my using the Platinum Card to protect myself against it – Catch-22.
As a “Thank You” for being a valued Platinum Card[R] member, you are entitled to receive one or more Year 2000 American Express VIP Awards. The maximum redemption value of your Reward is shown on the Certificate below…Any portion of the maximum Reward value that remains unused after you have made up to three Reward selections will expire and cannot be redeemed for cash or credit…
The “Certificate” at the bottom of the letter has a “Reward Value” of $46. For what? Aha! Magazine subscriptions: 90 days free, then I “continue to receive uninterrupted service at the low annual prices.” Note the word “service.” It’s optimization for “subscription,” a less-motivational term, just as “reward” is a euphemism for “first issues free.” Nowhere in the letter do the words “magazine” or “subscription” appear. In fact, neither appears on the face of the certificate. Is this worthy of Platinum Card? In my opinion, it’s a big step down, leaning toward deliberate obfuscation to induce readership. Cleverness pays off when the recipient doesn’t think you’ve tried to put one over on him/her.
With the decline of subscription/sweepstakes offers, magazines are scrambling for alternatives. Business Week, a most astute user of the mails to build subscriptions, generated its version of the classic Wall Street Journal “On a bright spring afternoon” letter. Their letter begins, “Two brothers went off to work…”
Well, all right, but this is out of sync with the envelope copy which says: “Free subscription voucher for:” Actually, it’s an eight-week subscription with the standard wording: “If you decide to continue, you’ll receive 51 issues of Business Week (including your eight free trial issues) for the low rate of just $37.95…that’s 81% off the cover price…”
Positive: Business Week astutely proposes eight issues, establishing a habit. Negative: We in DM have seen this pitch a thousand times. And so have 50 million others who don’t share our information optimizing background and cynicism. When credibility dulls, words lose their power.
What indignities we’ve heaped on the sloping shoulders of the word “free”! Here’s a colorful envelope from Transparent Language, with “FREE UPGRADE!” in 60-point type. Yeah! Uh…what’s that extra tidbit hidden to the right, not quite in mice-type, so make it rat-type: “With purchase.”
Yahoo! Magazine boldly sent an invoice – an invoice – with the wording, “We have not yet received your check.” Yeah, that’s understandable, Yahoo!, since I haven’t subscribed to your magazine.
Remember those fake newspaper pages with a stick-on note saying, “Mary, you ought to follow up on this. J.”? The technique has invaded e-mail. One message sent to my e-mail address, with the subject line “hglewis1, a stitch in time,” begins, “Hi! Just a quick note! Thought you might be interested in this site. It’s got online descriptions of the coat of arms for families around the world. Cool! Carol asked me to forward it in case you were interested. Here’s the site from my bookmarks.” Clever? Or insidious? I have two Carol-candidates, and neither one has ever heard of this deal (which may interest the Prince of Monaco but not me). Was it a lucky guess, or did somebody break and enter inviolate non-list territory?
One more, and this one really has me griped. For years I’ve used Norton Anti-Virus to keep outsiders from messing up my hard drive. I like it because I can upgrade it by just a mouse-click online.
In came a program called “Jammer,” which claimed to be the next generation of protection. Jammer was free for 30 days and then $19.95, supposedly forever. Forever? Suddenly here’s a dire e-mail from something called Agnitum. After telling me, “Thank you for using Jammer! You made a wise decision,” it makes that conclusion unsound by continuing: “The development of more sophisticated Trojans in recent months means your system has once again become vulnerable to attack.” It pitches “a superior, yet user-friendly Trojan Horse scanner called Tauscan”…at $29.95.
The message ends its infuriating spiel by saying Jammer and Tauscan “work hand in hand like Batman and Robin.” Oh, no, they don’t. They work hand in hand like Bonnie and Clyde.
Am I getting crotchety, annoyed by jackals picking at me before I’ve even given the embalmer a chance? I hope so.
Network
