When I first got my DVR, I celebrated the freedom of never again having to watch a commercial. That was the draw for me. Yeah, it was nice that I didn’t have to be parked on my couch at a certain time to enjoy my favorite show but I’d already gotten used to that. Commercials, on the other hand, I always found massively annoying. No thirty second ad is ever going to convince me to buy a roll of paper towels that costs three dollars. Unless they’re made of gold. Are they made of gold? No? I’ll pass.
Funny thing is, two years into the DVR lifestyle, I occasionally miss those half-minute advertisements. They weren’t all bad. Remember the Orbit commercials? I still say, “What the French, toast?”
The other day, in remembrance of the fonder moments, I watched live TV. Here’s what I noticed:
a. Most commercials are aimed at children. Yes, I’m immature. That doesn’t mean I’m going to eat your nutrition-less sugary breakfast concoction.
b. Too many of them either want me to join a class action lawsuit or ask my doctor about some new medicine. While this might be valuable to some, I haven’t been injured by a pharmaceutical company…and I don’t want to be.
c. Commericals have never been overly persuasive, but they aren’t particularly entertaining anymore, either. I didn’t laugh. I didn’t cry. I looked at the clock and wondered how long it was going to take to get back to Dr. Phil.
Where is the creativity in the marketing world? Have they all been beat down trying to please everyone all the time? That’s impossible. Though I doubt I ever willingly suffer through them again, here are some suggestions:
1. Instead of painting an already beautiful model with your make up, take a real, flawed woman and work your magic. Show me before and after photos. I want to see improvement, not the face of a model who didn’t need your foundation in the first place.
2. For crying out loud, entertain me. I know you’re afraid of getting sued, but there’s fine print on the commercials for drugs. Stick some at the bottom of yours. What about this?
Guy jogging outside in the sunshine. He’s been at it awhile. You can see sweat dripping off him. He’s winded and red-faced as he slows his pace and goes into a house. Woman inside looks up from reading a newspaper and says, “Hey, honey. How was your run?”
“Good,” he says. “I really worked up a sweat.”
She nods. “How’s that new deodorant working out for you?”
Guy lifts his arm and we’re shown the only dry place on his shirt–his underarm.
Tagline: Degree. We mean business.
Come on. Maybe I wouldn’t buy your deodorant, but I’d remember the name, and I wouldn’t hate you for interrupting Dance Moms.