I’ve
learned to tune them out.
Well,
at least chuckle silently, roll my eyes, and delete them.
If
you’ve ordered anything and provided an e-mail address, you likely
know what I’m talking about. It’s the barrage of inbox arrivals
promising all sorts of special offers that aren’t offers at all.
The
standard one we see is based around a subject line that says something
like this:
“50%
off your next purchase”
This,
of course, sounds pretty good. Then you open the e-mail and see
the reality. It’s 50% off when you reach a specific mark, such
as a total order of $100 or more.
There’s
a restaurant that we frequent. Restaurant chain, actually. And
chances are good that frequent is the wrong way of describing
it. We enjoy it every so often, but none of their locations are
in our immediate vicinity. So, if we’ve travelled to run errands
or visit someone or whatever, and there’s a location nearby, we
might stop in. I would say we find ourselves there two to four
times per year. More than many we visit, but I suppose much less
than frequent.
They
happen to have a rewards program that we signed up for years ago.
So long ago that the phone number that is used for accessing the
account hasn’t been our phone number in double-digit years. Part
of the program involves visiting a few times, then getting 20%
of your next visit. Another part is that any time you come in
you get one beverage or a specific appetizer for free. Other offers
get made all the time. It’s an ok kind of arrangement, occasionally
saves us some decent money, so sure, we signed up.
E-mail
arrived the other day. Wanted me to know I needed to rush in for
my free queso and chips. On the surface, nice enough. Kind of
a you’re a valued member, hey, here’s a special deal to welcome
you back. But there’s a thing. (You knew there was a thing, right?)
It
is nice. But it would probably be better if it didn’t show up
the very day after the previous offer for free queso and chips
expired.
Yup,
by my count I’m going on about fourteen straight months of limited-time-only
free queso and chips offers. Although it’s a one-week offer running
Friday thru Thursday, every Friday morning for about the past
fifty-eight or so weeks I’ve received an e-mail telling me I need
to hurry to get my free queso and chips.
I
suppose I could head out, order my free appetizer and fire up
my smartphone to do some shopping for 50% off. A few drinks and
a couple of entrees, toss in several sweaters and some socks,
I’ll wind up ahead hundreds by the time I’m done eating.
The
thing I don’t like though is how much my sarcasm response is triggered
by all of this. That tells me something isn’t ringing true. All
I need to do is see a name in the from space of an arrival in
my inbox and I’m muttering: “How much do I have to spend today
to get this promise of 40% off?” I’m not even giving them a chance.
I don’t even trust subject lines promising delicious offers I
won’t be able to resist.
I
resist.
And
therein lies the fun, right? For the same reason I’m not clicking
on blind links or listening to offers for extended vehicle warranty
coverage, I’ve almost become trained to be suspicious and delete
everything. It’s not just the safest options, it’s the smartest
since whatever lies in the body of the e-mail certainly isn’t
that special.
Today
I got an e-mail with a subject line promising a token of appreciation,
which once opened turned out I only needed to spend $50 to receive
said appreciation. And, because of course, spend the money and
the token would be a free gift that wasn’t identified. It’s such
a sad reality you don’t even need to try to make this stuff up.
Maybe
if they mixed it up. Sent me a warm chocolate chip cookie with
ice cream offer every so often. Maybe.