​​Alas, professionals. Some of them seem to think that expertise in one area gives them expertise in all.

I once prepared a campaign for a chain of mental health facilities. Like most poorly managed companies, this one wouldn’t run an ad unless every psychologist in the organization approved it. Tip: If you want unremarkable advertising, committee approval is the way to go. 

Most of the psychologists I met with were great. One, however, informed me that my writing was wholly unprofessional. You can imagine my chagrin. At the time I had been writing ads for 15 years. I’d somehow gotten it into my head that I knew how to write ... that I knew how to write ... well, that I knew how to write professional copy.

“For instance,” he went on, “here the ad offers a ‘free’ initial consultation. Very unprofessional. ’Without charge.’ There. That’s professional.”

I knew better than to point out that “free” outperforms in the real world. He probably wouldn’t have believed me and, either way, wouldn’t have cared. 

So, instead, I told him that his peers were fine with the wording.

Drawing a heavy sigh, he said, “If you want to know if the instrument is in tune, you should ask the musician who has perfect pitch.”

Here I resisted the urge to say, “Listen, you arrogant twit ...”

His CEO backed him up. She said, “I want effective advertising that doesn’t call attention to itself.”

Except for the “effective” part, that was exactly what they ended up with. Then the CEO complained that the advertising didn’t increase their business. “See?” she said. “Advertising doesn’t work.”

In time, I made it my policy not to work with clients who think they know more about advertising than I do. They indeed may, but if they do, then they should write their own ads or retain someone smarter than either of us. If they only think they know more? Here I shall defer to the late David Ogilvy: “Any fool can write a bad advertisement, but it takes a genius to keep his hands off a good one.”

​​I RECENTLY came across an online ad that said, “The reason our price is low is because we spend nothing on advertising.” 

What an interesting claim to make--in a paid advertisement.

It reminds me of the time my mom, in the early stages of dementia, phoned me to ask for my phone number.

The notion that advertising raises prices, or that its lack diminishes them, is a myth.

Not once in the history of advertising has a CEO said, “We need to advertise, so let’s raise prices.” Neither has a CEO ever said, “We need to lower prices, so let’s quit advertising.” 

​When prospective clients request an advertising proposal, sometimes they choke on the budget. At that point, some re-allocate funds and some send me packing, but the one thing none of them does is draw a heavy sigh and say, “Guess we’ll have to raise prices.”

In the sense that all company revenues come from sales, sure, ultimately the consumer pays for advertising. But that wasn’t the question. The question was whether advertising raises prices.

Suppose, for the sake of argument, a company ceased advertising and passed the savings to customers. Know how much those savings would amount to? Maybe a penny or three per item. If that. McDonald’s has a huge advertising budget. But the per-item costs gets pretty danged small when you spread it over billions of sandwiches, billions of fries, billions of drinks, and on and on.

When advertising increases sales, which is, you know, kinda its job, it becomes a profit center, not an expense. Increased sales increase production, resulting in economies of scale and substantial savings for the company. The company may or may not pass on the savings to customers. 

Pricing is determined by what people are willing to pay. What people are willing to pay is determined by their perception of value. You may have noticed, for instance, that a Mont Blanc pen costs somewhat more than a Bic pen. Trust me on this: the difference has nothing to do with their respective advertising budgets. If no one wants to pay enough for a product to cover the producer’s expenses plus yield a bit of profit, the product will disappear.

​—Steve Cuno

Screenwriters and playwrights, please be advised that use of any of the phrases listed below will henceforth be deemed an admission of lack of imagination:

“This isn’t over.”
“Look at me.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Let’s split up.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“The evidence points to him, but he swears he didn’t do it.”
“This isn’t you.”
“This isn’t who we are.”
“We’re not so different, you and I.” 
“I’m nothing like you!”
“We are nothing alike.”
“There is no ‘we.’”

Also deemed an admission of lack of imagination:

Walking calmly away with an explosion behind you
Stealing a car thanks to a key stored on the visor
Bringing back the same bad guy death after death
Escaping through a ventilator shaft

Kindly suggest additions by clicking COMMENTS.

​Part 2 

​Dear Sender:

Where to begin?

I have no interest in a would-be vendor who skimmed through my website. I want one who pored and emerged with specific, useful recommendations.

But then, I doubt that you even skimmed. I suspect you obtained an email list and clicked SEND with no further thought. Else, you would have known that, right or wrong, I fancy myself a writer. Armed with that information, you might have thought better of “you could greatly benefit from our high-quality blog writing service,” anticipating that it could come across as something of a slap.

If you didn’t skim, then you lied. I loath misleading statements from people trying to sell. Of course, not having skimmed, you couldn’t be expected to know that.

But suppose I’m wrong and you really did skim. In that case, you score abysmally low in the empathy department. That’s a problem for any writer, especially an ad writer, for good writing begins with knowing your reader.

All of which argues against the alleged high quality of the writing you hope to sell me.

I must reluctantly conclude that I could not benefit in the least, much less greatly, from your high-quality blog writing.

Part 3

Note to readers: I didn’t email this reply. If the hapless vendor wishes to read it, he’ll have to skim my blog.
​

—Steve Cuno

​I just received another sales letter that opened, “I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point.”

Gosh, do I ever appreciate that!

Just kidding. Whether via email or snail mail, I have yet to receive one “I’ll get right to the point” sales letter that wouldn’t have been stronger had the writer skipped “I’ll get right to the point” and just gotten to the point.

Not that I’m recommending going right to the point. Quite the opposite. The opening line’s job is to make your reader eager to read on. If you’re not careful, going straight to the point can be a bit jarring. Like asking for a date with, “I want to have sex with you.”

One of the most successful openers I was ever lucky enough to pen is, “I’m a little embarrassed.” The opener that turned me into a loyal Free Inquiry magazine subscriber (and, later, columnist) was: “There’s something I like about you.” And there was no way I could quit reading after this opener from Netflix: “I messed up. I owe you an explanation.”

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point” is the functional equivalent of “I don’t have a strong opener.” Get back to work and come up with one.

—Steve Cuno

I snapped a photo of the above billboard Saturday in downtown Salt Lake.

I’m not quite sure what the “this” in “Feeling like this?” is supposed to feel like.
​
This is an example of what happens when an advertising agency mistakes creativity for selling and obsurity with a dash of self-indulgence for creativity.