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The chatty post I'd hoped to write tonight went the wayside of good intentions. Tomorrow, I hope. But right now I need to make an observation. Right now I need to vent.
The anonymous, pervasive Mother's Day marketing machine is obviously somewhat poignant this year, but it's okay, too. Of course there are going to be a kazillion ads and reminders. It's the natural way of the world, and I am in the same boat as everyone else whose mother died recently. And there are far, far more others in boats nearby. Those whose mothers died longer ago, those whose relationship with their mothers does not contribute to the day being one to celebrate, etc. etc. etc. So goes life. We deal.
But the pseudo-personal marketing? Nah, that trips over into the offensive camp this time around. Epson just lost major points and won a full measure of pissy comments from me, all thanks to the subject line of the email they just sent my way:
"Geri, Give Mom Gifts She'll Cherish Forever...From Epson"
And here just three days ago, I bought Epson dual-sided matte paper and DuraBright ink for the memorial cards I designed and need to print. "Thanks, Epson; I already have. Too bad she's dead and so won't be able to cherish the smooth finish of your fine product or how well your ink prints her name and the image of her favorite picture." Grrr. No, I haven't done Epson the kindness of commenting directly to them. And it's no special sin of theirs, either. Any company could have done it. Personalized subject lines are more likely to capture attention and get your message read. The fallout tends to be localized. Even if it is on the message designer's radar, it's down in the noise. Many more fine points and emotional rants left as an exercise for the reader to consider or discard at will.
All Epson had to do is leave my name off the beginning of the subject line. It would have fallen on the okay side of the equation then, though not as easily as the ads on TV since this message was sent directly to me rather than simply broadcast for the masses to see.
This is far from the worst case of my being on the small, losing, grief-filled side of the unwelcome, unintended consequences that are part'n'parcel of pretty much any message ever created and delivered. But no matter how much I understand the hows, whys, and wherefores, Epson's email pisses me off. It hurts. No single Epson employee who knew the situation would dream of making that particular statement to me personally right now. But there it is, in my in-box. To me, by name. From Epson. Not truly personal, just cloaked in the trappings.
I know all this. So why does it still hurt?
Grrr.
The anonymous, pervasive Mother's Day marketing machine is obviously somewhat poignant this year, but it's okay, too. Of course there are going to be a kazillion ads and reminders. It's the natural way of the world, and I am in the same boat as everyone else whose mother died recently. And there are far, far more others in boats nearby. Those whose mothers died longer ago, those whose relationship with their mothers does not contribute to the day being one to celebrate, etc. etc. etc. So goes life. We deal.
But the pseudo-personal marketing? Nah, that trips over into the offensive camp this time around. Epson just lost major points and won a full measure of pissy comments from me, all thanks to the subject line of the email they just sent my way:
"Geri, Give Mom Gifts She'll Cherish Forever...From Epson"
And here just three days ago, I bought Epson dual-sided matte paper and DuraBright ink for the memorial cards I designed and need to print. "Thanks, Epson; I already have. Too bad she's dead and so won't be able to cherish the smooth finish of your fine product or how well your ink prints her name and the image of her favorite picture." Grrr. No, I haven't done Epson the kindness of commenting directly to them. And it's no special sin of theirs, either. Any company could have done it. Personalized subject lines are more likely to capture attention and get your message read. The fallout tends to be localized. Even if it is on the message designer's radar, it's down in the noise. Many more fine points and emotional rants left as an exercise for the reader to consider or discard at will.
All Epson had to do is leave my name off the beginning of the subject line. It would have fallen on the okay side of the equation then, though not as easily as the ads on TV since this message was sent directly to me rather than simply broadcast for the masses to see.
This is far from the worst case of my being on the small, losing, grief-filled side of the unwelcome, unintended consequences that are part'n'parcel of pretty much any message ever created and delivered. But no matter how much I understand the hows, whys, and wherefores, Epson's email pisses me off. It hurts. No single Epson employee who knew the situation would dream of making that particular statement to me personally right now. But there it is, in my in-box. To me, by name. From Epson. Not truly personal, just cloaked in the trappings.
I know all this. So why does it still hurt?
Grrr.
