Theworldof advertising can, at times, be a shifty business. Cola
brandspromise all the fi zzy fun and frivolity you can handle, and
fast-foodoutlets spruik incomparable happiness, wrapped in a bun.
I’vealwaysthought of myself as somewhat ad-savvy – never to be
swindledbyclever slogans uttered by shiny people. I fi gured I was
immunetothe trickery in all its form.
Then,whilemidway through my uni degree (in which advertising
featuredprominently), something happened. I found myself up
atnight,watching TV during the wee hours, when those amateur
late-nightcommercials began popping up on screen. Whenever
theyunapologetically appeared at 3am, I would snap out of my
zombie-likestate and giggle my sleep-deprived bum off. If you’re a
fellowinsomniac, or perhaps a shift-worker, and thus an occasional
late-nightTV watcher yourself, you know the ones I mean: ads
formiracleskin creams that will make you look 10 years younger
(notrecommended for children under 10), ads for ab busters, ads
fordustbusters, ads showing you ways to bust pimples, and ads
showinggirls showing their bust.
Therewassomething mesmerising about the unabashed gusto with
whichthepeople in the commercials hammered home the hyperbole.
Iwatchedinawe as vacuum cleaners sucked up bowling balls and
fitnessfreaks showed off contraptions to contort the body, promising
tightertummies. The thing is, though, none of it was actually very
believable.And that got me thinking: why do these ads seem so much
moreharmless than their big-budget, primetime counterparts?
They’restilltrying to get me to buy things I probably don’t need.
(Icouldjustpick up a bowling ball, to be honest. Getting the vacuum
out,emptying the bag and plugging it in for one measly bowling ball
justseemsunnecessary.)
Ithinkit’sprobably because they come across as underdogs.
They’vebought the cheapest ad spots available and often appear
intheadsthemselves. Perhaps I see these late-night tycoons as
courageous... admirable, even. And who, at 3am, is actually buying
anyofthisstuff? There are only so many free steak knives you can
throwintoentice your misplaced target market to purchase your
WonderBlender or easier-to-wash-than-ever chopping board.
Idohaveaconfession, though. I have bought something at 3am.
Agrill.Iordered a grill. But not just any grill – this was the George
ForemanLean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine. I sat through
theentireroutine and lapped it up. As a demonstrator talked me
throughthefi nest features of the Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling
Machine,Iwas intrigued.
“Callinthenext 30 minutes and receive $20 off your order,”
Iwastold.“And for the fi rst 30 callers, we will throw in a 5-in-1,
easy-to-clean, never-not-sharp, life-changing and (probably)
soul-cleansing vegetable chopper, for free.”
Itdidn’toccur to me that, a) this was the same ad they ran every
time,sohow would they know if I called within 30 minutes? and b)
30 callersseemed a bit of a stretch in the middle of the night on
aTuesday.So, not wanting to miss a bargain, I called.
Sincenabbing my state-of-the-art steal (circa 2006), I have used
thegrillapproximately four times. Three in the fi rst week post-
purchase.Ihave used the vegetable chopper zero times. I don’t
regretmyimpulse purchase. In fact, I’m somewhat pleased with
it.Technically (due to almost immediate disinterest), both are in
perfectworking order, some 13 years after I bought them. Now
that’svaluefor money! But will I ever buy from a late-night swindler
again?Well,that depends if they throw in a free bowling ball with
thatvacuum cleaner.l te-nit tr din
DANIEL MOORE HAS A SOFT SPOT
FOR ADS AFTER DARK.
something to say