Category: Marketing / Advertising

Back-Door Marketing

Marketing / Advertising, Travels

No, it has nothing to do with ass.  Sorry.  Before “back door” (like “adult”) became a porn industry expression, back-door marketing was a kind of marketing whereby you appealed to a consumer via unfamiliar (or apparently so) means — you know, get a free trip to Florida, free as long as you agree to listen to a 60-minute sales pitch for a time-share purchase.  That’s about the best example I can give.

Here’s another:  in my Inbox yesterday came this offer from American Airlines:

Note that the ticket may not be on American, but on their “partner” airline Qantarse, on which I have vowed never to fly, ever.  (Details here and here, for Those Of Short Memory.)

In my case of course, not only have I blanked Qantarse but also the entire continent of Strylia because fukkem, the foul bureaucratic pricks.  Even the presence of Beloved Grandchildren are insufficient incentives to get me to that poxy country, which should tell you everything.

And the next time I fly American — which is going to be a looooong time in the future — I’ll use up my paltry not-so-frequent flier miles instead of dollars because fukkem too.

If I Were A Paranoid Man

Marketing / Advertising

We’re all familiar with the situation:  you post something about a government conspiracy and the very next day you get a pop-up ad when you open a web page somewhere:

As I said in the title, if I were a paranoid man…

Not long ago I was running an errand which took me down the horrible I-35 south of Dallas.  It’s horrible not because of the road per se, but because to get to the I-35 south of Dallas from where I am, I have to somehow get around the Dallas downtown area, which as any local yokel will tell you, can be a terrifying experience.  (What tourists or newcomers feel when facing this situation I cannot even begin to fathom.)

Anyway, as any local yokel will tell you, South Dallas is a place to be avoided at all costs (think:  East L.A., South Side Chicago, Boston’s Combat Zone etc.).  Yet there I was, trundling along…

…and got a puncture which tore my right-hand rear tire to shreds.

Fortunately, it happened about 50 yards before an off-ramp, so I managed to get off the interstate and pull into a service station parking lot, there to await the arrival of roadside service.

Tangent:  I know how to change a tire, I’ve done it dozens of times before, but I’m decades older than I was the last time I did it, and as my insurance company provides the service for free… why the hell not?

However, I soon noticed that my environs were not the most salubrious, in that when I went into the little convenience store to get a Coke, the cashier was encased behind what looked like 12″-thick armored glass and stout steel bars.  The message was obvious, so I decided to forego the Coke and get back to my car ASAP.

I didn’t get back inside the car because that way I wouldn’t be able to get a 360° view of my surroundings, and more importantly, by standing next to the car I would have easy access to both my trusty 1911 and its backup, should that be necessary.

I waited for about an hour for the roadside service guy, and was only accosted by one scrote who needed a $5 gift “for gas to get to work”, a likely story as he looked like the last time he worked was during the elder Bush presidency.  Besides, I wasn’t going to get my wallet out only to be confronted by a knife.

Because if that happened, I’d have to shoot the asshole and then would come the cops, the call to my SCCA attorney, endless paperwork, confiscation of my 1911, forget about keeping my appointment… you get the picture:  all that hassle just because I might ventilate someone totally deserving of ventilation.

So I just pointed at my tire-less rim, and snarled that I had my own fucking problems and to leave me the fuck alone.

Which he did, fairly quickly and without any fuss.  Clearly, I didn’t look like a potential victim, for some reason.

Anyway, roadside service arrived and put on my “spare” (just a donut, 2,000-word rant omitted ).  Except that the donut was flat, despite the assurance from my last oil-change provider whom I’d asked to check on the thing (another 2,000-word rant omitted, but he just lost my business).  Fortunately, road service guy had one of those little quick-pump thingies which took care of the problem right there, so off I went, late for my appointment, but buoyed by the certain knowledge that afterwards, I’d have to stop by Discount Tires to get a replacement, oh joy, because there was no way the donut would get me the fifty-odd miles home, on said Dallas-area freeways where you get run off the road for daring to drive at only 70mph.

Anyway, I told you all that so I could tell you this.

Two days ago, I got an email which featured one of these:

It was the first such ad I’ve ever got in this manner, and if I were a paranoid man…

So the question is — because the coincidence seems a little too strong, even for me — how did these hucksters get my email addy?  From the insurance company, or the tire outlet?

Your guesses in Comments.

Afterword #1:  I actually already have one of the above in the trunk of the car, but I couldn’t remember when last I charged it up, which is why I relied on the roadside service guy to handle the problem.  I did recharge it when I got home.

Afterword #2:   I ended up getting four new tires, because apparently the 50,000-mile warranty didn’t cover tires that had passed the 100,000-mile mark some time back.  As the tire guy put it:  “You’re damn lucky you haven’t had at least two blowouts by now.” 
And the only way I was able to afford those four new tires was because of my Readers’ generosity during this, my Last Appeal (which still has a day or so to run, hint, hint ).

Please Go

Freaks & Loonies, Marketing / Advertising, Marxists

I love capitalism.  Why?  No sooner had the ink dried on the fraudulent-but-ultimately pointless counterfeit ballots in Pennsylvania. Michigan etc. when (courtesy of Reader Mike L.) I learned that the Smart Marketing Guys got going:

US cruise company offering four-year escape during Trump presidency

A Florida-based cruise company is offering disgruntled US voters the chance to escape by traveling the world during Donald Trump’s upcoming four years in office.

Villa Vie Residences has capitalized on the election results by offering Americans a four-year escape – the length of a presidential term – starting at around $160,000 per person, taking guests to more than 425 ports in 140 countries. [more details at the link]

My only requirement is that the trip is non-refundable after the ship has left port — in other words, if the travelers are suddenly overcome with buyer’s regret or whatever, they don’t get any money back, and they have to make their own way home from whatever country they happen to be in.

And if the poor regretful souls, having spent all their savings on this 4-year escape, are unable to afford the cost of a flight back to the U.S., I’m sure some private transport company will be only too willing to step up to the plate and help them get out of wherever they are for the return trip…

…if you see what I mean.

BFD

Marketing / Advertising, Retailing

The above title does not stand for “Big Fucking Deal”, although given the average tenor of this website, you may be forgiven for thinking so.

In the grocery retailing business, BFD stands for “Best Food Day”;  that day of the week when grocery stores launch their weekly price discounts on selected items.

The actual day varies from chain to chain, or from one area to another.  Back when I was in the business, one chain’s BFD was on Thursdays, when they dropped their weekly flyer (called a “roto” because of the printing process);  their competitor’s might be on a Friday to capitalize on the weekend’s expected sales uptick, and yet another competitor — whose typical shopper might trend towards an elder demographic — might have their BFD the day after Social Security payments were made… and so on.

Nowadays, I think the BFD concept might have disappeared to a greater or lesser degree because of changes in shopping habits by customers, whether online, delivery, at-store pickup and Internet deals.

I’ve certainly noticed this at Kroger — where I do perhaps 90% of my shopping — because not only have they de-emphasized the roto (the price deals aren’t as aggressive as they once were), there also seems to be a large number of Internet-delivered promotions that you have to visit their website to activate.  And of course, there are the “loyalty card-only” deals which are their way of tracking customer shopping habits (I think;  I haven’t seen much in the way of targeted deals the way I used to deliver them — a topic for another time).

In case anyone’s interested about the other 10% of my grocery shopping, it’s split between Market Street (a Texas chain, owned by Albertson’s) and Wal-Mart, both only for very specific items (e.g. Market Street’s French baguettes and rolls, which are superb and rival the baguettes I tasted in Paris).

Side note:  when I still lived in Plano, I shopped a lot at Central Market (H.E.B.’s upscale outlet), but they saw fit to discontinue several of my favorite products which they carried exclusively — e.g. Old Forest Salami and Jambon de Paris  sliced ham — so there’s no need to go there anymore.  And in any event, their prices were stratospheric before, but since Bidenflation have become frankly unreachable to One Of Fixed Income Like Me.  Also, their South Plano store is now too far from my place to justify the long trip, so there ya go.

By the way, I see that eggs are now selling for $3.99/dozen at Kroger — by “eggs” I mean eggs that we peasants generally eat and not the boutique premium stuff hatched in coops run by virgins and laid by hens sprinkled with holy water.  Limit 2 packs per customer, but not enforced if you buy two packs, take your groceries out to the car and then go back into the store and buy another two, etc.  (Once again, I used to enforce limits by putting a stop on the loyalty card daily quantities.)  Although I cannot see who would need more than two dozen eggs per day unless you have four teenage sons and/or are running a commercial home bakery as a sideline.

I forgot where I was going with this post, but I assure you there was a point to all of it — I just can’t remember what it was.  If I do remember (doubtful), I’ll follow up some other time.