Chronic Fatigue

Frequent Fryers

I know there are a lot of serious problems facing the world today.  I'm not going to discuss any of them.

Instead, I want to talk about something that is merely seriously annoying: the ubiquitous female speaking style that has infiltrated every corner of American culture. Call it what you will -- "Vocal Fry", "Uptalking", "Creaky Voice", "Val-Speak", "Sexy Baby Voice" -- it is the bane of my existence.

And I know I'm not alone.  When I first blogged about this phenomenon back in 2012, my readers (all three of them), agreed that this vocal affectation --  which I refer to simply as "The Voice" -- is beyond infuriating.

In my original rant, I mentioned that a growing number of tv commercials feature female voiceovers (or on-camera talent) who seemingly studied at the Kardashian School of Really Annoying Speech.  Now here we are, six years later, and this speaking style is no longer the exception; it's the rule. I can't turn on my tv without hearing The Voice. It's more than just grating. To me, it's like Kim Kardashian's well manicured nails scraping on a blackboard somewhere in Hell.  Here are just a few recent examples that make me reach for the Mute Button...

1. POSHMARK                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The young woman in this commercial claims she has made a lot of money selling her clothes on Poshmark. Great. Maybe she can use some of that cash to hire a voice therapist.                                                                                                                                            

2. CALIFORNIA ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

This local San Francisco spot promotes "Giants of Land and Sea" -- a new multi-lingual exhibit. The voiceover, um, talent, delivers the script in a common regional dialect known as "California Croaky."  I can just imagine the original casting specs: "We're looking for someone who sounds like a Kindergartner with a head cold".  Nailed it!

 

 

3. PANERA

Panera commercials are irritating on so many levels; the whole self-righteous air of Millennial Purity ("Panera. Food as it should be.") is hard to stomach. But the Serious Medical Student's "Baby Talk" voice truly makes me want to smash my tv...OR SOMETHING!

 

4. MATCH.COM

I've saved the best for last. Each of these spots features a young, eligible, single woman who is absolutely lovely...until she opens her mouth. And it's not just Match. I've noticed some of the women in the eHarmony spots sound exactly the same. I guess there are no women left out there who don't speak this way. Guys, do you really want to be with a woman who who speaks like this? I mean, I know these girls are cute and hot and everything, but at some point, you have to talk. And fellas, there's no Mute Button.

 

 

For the life of me, I will never understand why young women insist on speaking this way. I thought it was a trend that would go the way of chunky highlights and Juicy Couture tracksuits. But no, The Voice seems like it's here to stay. It's an epidemic. Worse yet, now there is a backlash against anyone who dares to speak out against The Voice. If you do, you'll be labeled a misogynist faster than a Kardashian can change outfits (do I blame the Kardashians for this heinous trend? Not entirely. But let's just say they haven't helped).

So go ahead, call me a Hater.  I can't be silenced.  Not until That Damn Voice     goes away.  I'm waiting...

 

 

 

 

 

UnTuckit?? F--k it!!

 

The commercial opens on the Manhattan skyline at dawn. Quick cut to a random close up of some leaves, then a busy New York street scene.

The look is edgy, moody. The earnest piano music in the background signals we are about to hear Something Very Important.

Cut to an intense looking dude striding in slow motion down a gritty New York street. Intense Dude is clearly on a mission. He looks angry. The Dude's name dissolves up on screen: Chris Riccobono. Chris Ricco-what??  Hmm.  His expression is rather scary. And Intense Dude gets even scarier when he opens his mouth. He sounds like a hipster mob boss from Jersey (apologies to my home state). His delivery is flat -- and deadly serious -- as as we hear his voiceover:

"The best ideas come from solving common problems."

Ok. I'll bite. What problem did Mr. Intensity solve? He drones on...

"My problem? Like a lot of other men, I couldn't find a shirt that looked good untucked."

Okay, stop right there. You couldn't find a shirt that looked good untucked?? Dude, THIS is your problem?

As our hero strides purposefully through the city streets in perpetual Slo-Mo, modeling a series of UNTUCKit creations, his voiceover continues:

"So this became my passion..." (Of course, it was just a matter of time before the dreaded "P" word was uttered).

"...to design a shirt that captures the perfect balance between length and fit." (Thank God someone finally tackled this sartorial crisis.)

"Easy to say. NOT that easy to do."  (Really? Can't you just lop off the bottom 3 inches of the shirt?')

"But with some innovative design changes, we did it." (Oh, right, you're an Innovator...)

"OUR problem. MY solution...."

Cut to logo:

"UnTUCKIT.com."  Fade to black.

Dude, you know what OUR problem is? It's pretentious, sanctimonious assholes like you who cloak themselves in self-righteousness while hawking their dubious "innovations".

When this commercial first aired, I honestly thought it was a spoof. But now, with UNTUCKit stores popping up faster than bacne on a teen, I know it's only too real. And I really can't get over it.

For me, this commercial — and the entire UNTUCKit phenomenon — encapsulates everything that is wrong with the world today. Ok, maybe not everything. But our current fetish with "innovation" and "innovators" is way out of control.  And it seems like just about everybody is deep into the punch bowl.

I call it Silicon Valley Syndrome. Today, you can wrap just about anything in a shroud of self-important, self-congratulatory bullshit. The more trivial the idea, the better. As Sam Biddle says in his brilliant take-down of the hypocritical tech culture, "...this is why we have a start-up that mails your dogs curated treats". Bingo.

Chris Riccobono, the genius behind UNTUCKit, is just following in the mold of all those grandiose tech titans and start-up savants. In his "UNTUCKit, the Brand Story" spot, Mr. Riccobono comports himself with an air of grandiosity that would be laughable if it weren't so completely cringe-worthy. His shirts look nice enough. But he looks (and sounds) like a total asshole.

I'm not the only one who reacted this way to the UNTUCKit spot. Some of the comments on YouTube are priceless:

"That right there is some innovation (snicker). This is what happens when everyone gets a trophy...I guess everyone is also an innovator. Maybe they can work on car windows that can be rolled down next?"

"'My problem? I couldn't find a short that looked good untucked.' Hm, I don't think that is your problem."

"Elon Musk, move over."

"He's so brave to come forward with his story."

"So what, you guys made the shirts a little shorter?"

And my favorite:

"Next, he'll tackle world peace."

Clearly, a lot of folks have been snickering at this commercial. There must have been some backlash, because Mr. Riccobono felt the need to follow this spot up with a video explaining how "Sometimes, it's the smallest innovations that make the biggest change." While Mr. R. makes a valiant effort to appear likeable in the video, he can't hide his innate surliness (I can picture a marketer advising him, "Dude, for Pete's sake, lighten up."). 

In another TV interview featured on a website called -- I'm not kidding -- HipNJ.com, Mr. RiccoB explains the genesis of UNTUCKit. He'd always hated how normal length shirts looked sloppy untucked. So he conducted a survey with men in his hometown of Hoboken, NJ. (the undisputed fashion capital of the world). Sure enough, all of these guys agreed with him! I can just picture those dudes sitting around, complaining about how those hideous, long, sloppy shirts had been destroying their carefully cultivated "look".  It was high time someone disrupted this long-standing fashion faux pas. Mr. Riccobono to the rescue! 

During the interview, we also learn that it took one year and 31 prototypes to get the perfect fit ("Everyone told me, 'We can't do it!"). But thank goodness, our intrepid entrepreneur persevered. Thus, after one year and endless design innovations, UNTUCKit was born. Crisis averted.

Like I said, I have no problem with the shirts. They look nice enough. It's the attitude I find so UNattractive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unsubscribe me. (From EVERYTHING!)

In those halcyon days before the Internet, I, like all Americans, was inundated with nonstop sales pitches.

Those pitches came in the form of tv and radio commercials, print ads, outdoor boards, direct mail, and the occasional door hanger.

Being bombarded with those traditional forms of marketing was, and still is, annoying (and yes, I'm responsible for writing some of it. Guilty as charged).

But pre-Internet, I operated under the quaint delusion that as bad as it was, things surely couldn't get any worse.

Of course, things did get worse. Much worse.

Who could have imagined a world where in addition to the tv commercials, billboards, plus mountains of junk mail crowding our actual mailboxes, we would now also have to contend with a nonstop barrage of virtual junkmail clogging our email mailboxes?

I, for one, didn't see it coming. That's what surprised (and horrified) me most about the advent of the Internet; how the web instantaneously enabled even more insidious and intrusive forms of marketing on a scale previously thought unimaginable.

The Internet exposed — and spawned — a world of opportunistic marketers more unscrupulous, more unconscionable, and more unrelenting than anything we had previously witnessed. It was like turning over a rock and discovering millions of hideous, slimy, blood-sucking insects scurrying around in the muck. All of them looking to crawl into your in-box (and eventually, your wallet).

The lowest form of life on the marketing foodchain is spam. I still can't fathom the sheer volume of spam that's out there. And it keeps morphing into new, even more evil forms; such as the targeted pop-up ads that seem to scream, "So we see you bought a RED SWEATER today? Well, here's ANOTHER RED SWEATER you should buy!  And maybe you want some RED SHOES to go with it?"

Those are bad. But I am frankly even more annoyed by the innocent looking emails I routinely receive from companies I've done business with — or similar companies who want their slice of the pie and will stop at nothing to get it.

To me, these retailers' methods are even more insidious than the spammers     and scammers. Because these types of emails masquerade as legitimate, friendly "updates" about sales or new merchandise. Updates I never asked for and          don't want.  And yet they keep coming, like toxic waves washing ashore after an oil spill.

Companies refer to this devious practice as "CRM" or "Customer Relationship Marketing". You see, it's not about selling. It's about relationships. It's about connecting.  And sharing.  As in, "We want to share our new Spring lineup        with you...so you will share your hard earned money with us".

Give them an inch, and these sleazy marketers will take a mile. They're like the creepy guy you smiled at once, and then he starts following you around forever. He only needs a minimum of encouragement and then you can't shake him.

It's the same with marketers today.  Just give them a quick glance (in the form of one purchase), and they will glom onto you and stalk you forever online.

The stalking usually begins immediately after I've made a purchase from an online retailer. From that point on, even when I've clearly said, "NO, I don't want to receive promotional emails from you", I start receiving a flood of those promotional emails (plus emails from everyone else they've sold my                          information to).  Because in the Brave New World of online marketing, "No" doesn't mean "No".  The word "No" is not even in their vocabulary. Let alone in their marketing strategies.

Every time I receive one of these unsolicited emails, I have to go through the annoying step of unsubscribing.  Good luck with that.  Most companies pretend to make this process simple.  But if you've ever tried it, you know better.  It's easier to kill cockroaches than to eradicate the endless onslaught of promotional emails that invade your inbox.

The process goes something like this: First, you click on the "unsubscribe" link at the bottom of your promotional email. Next, you receive a pop-up message containing the obligatory, guilt-inducing "Please don't go!" message.  It usually says something like, "We're sorry to see you go.  Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from our email promotions?"  You click "yes".  Another message tells you that you have "Successfully unsubscribed".

But not so fast.  It's not that easy.  Because you typically receive yet another message saying, "Please note that it may take up to 10 days to process your unsubscribe status."  10 days??  It took you all of a nanosecond to ADD me to this frigging list, but now you can't remove me for 10 whole days??

Ok, whatever.  At least you now have a glimmer of hope that the emails from said retailer WILL cease.  In just 10 days, you will be forever liberated from emails about their Big Summer Sale and special savings on corduroy leggings!

Sadly, though, your feelings of hope are short lived.  Because soon you notice that you are still receiving emails from that very same retailer well beyond the 10 day grace period.  Did they not get the message?  Don't they know you broke up      with them?  Apparently not.

Then you proceed to go through the whole goddamn process again: Hit "Unsubscribe", and hope that maybe this time, it will take.  Maybe they will hear your cries of "No!!".

Some companies don't let you off the hook that easily.  Like a persistent, utterly tone deaf suitor, they want you to explain WHY you broke up with them. Ostensibly, under the guise of "responsiveness", they want to know exactly why you unsubscribed.  So after the "We hate to see you go" message, they will ask, "Please tell us why you are unsubscribing".  This is usually followed by a menu of multiple choice answers:

A) I'm receiving too many emails

B) Your emails are not relevant to me

(And my favorite, the wonderfully disingenuous...)

C) I don't recall signing up for emails

Really?  Are those my only choices?  How about "D") "Because I never signed up for your fucking email list in the first place!"

You know how some people say it should be hard to get married and easy to        get divorced?  I feel the same way about email subscription lists.  It should be hard to sign up for them and easy to get out of them.

Wouldn't it be great if, when you first subscribed to a company's email list, they would confirm your decision with questions like, "Are you SURE you want to receive emails from us?" or "I mean, seriously, do you REALLY want to receive a million annoying emails from us?" or "Please don't do anything rash. You might want to reconsider joining this list...before it's too late."

Since that is not going to happen anytime soon, we are stuck with the Sisyphean task of trying to unsubscribe from a tsunami of unwanted emails.

But where there is a need, there is certainly an online service to fill the void. Several companies have sprung up to help you unsubscribe "from everything". One such company, Unroll Me, says "Toss the junk with one click".  Wow, toss ALL the junk?  Sounds great.  Until you realize that in the very next breath, the same people who purportedly want to help you from unsubscribe from junk mail want to sign you up for other annoying services like "The Rollup" ("Combine what you love into one beautiful digest"), which consolidates all your "favorite subscriptions" into one email.  Favorite subscriptions?  I have no favorite
subscriptions.  I want them ALL gone.  Banished to some virtual graveyard for promotional emails.

So you see, there is no end to it.  We've opened the Pandora's Box of online selling and are now dealing with the aftermath.  One annoying email at a time.

Some will say that all of this annoying e-marketing is inescapable and a necessary evil in a free market.

Sorry, but I don't subscribe to that.

 

 

 

Hopelessness We Can Believe In

There's a new Nutrisystem commercial on the air now, and it's one of the most shocking TV commercials I've ever seen. 

The spot opens with a haggard looking middle aged woman talking to camera about the dramatic weight loss she achieved with Nutrisystem.  Nothing remarkable about that – just another standard Nutrisystem real person "before and after" testimonial. 

But then the woman says something stunning:  "I just feel if you're fifty years old and overweight, there's no hope for you."

She doesn't smile when she says this.  There's no nervous laugh that indicates she's trying to be funny, or is intentionally exaggerating to make a point.              She delivers the words with a deadpan, dour expression.  She really means it:  There's no hope for you.

The moment she delivers this bombshell – just as you're wondering if you really heard her correctly – oh no she didn't! – they cut away to perky spokesperson, Marie Osmond.  Marie, of course, gushes about the woman's transformation on Nutrisystem, telling her how fabulous she looks (I fully expected Marie to congratulate the woman on just narrowly escaping an utterly hopeless existence).

Now, I'm usually less than thrilled to see Marie Osmond in these commercials    (or anywhere else, for that matter).  But I gotta tell you, I was actually relieved when they cut away to her; she's the overly perky antidote to the dire pronouncement we've just heard about...no hope.

There's no hope for you.  The statement is both shockingly clear-cut and            curiously vague.  No hope about what?  Of ever losing weight as you get older?      Of ever looking attractive?  Of fitting into your clothes?  Of controlling your cholesterol?  Is that what she means?   

Or...does she mean "no hope" in a bigger sense?  There's no hope of not losing your husband to a younger woman?  No hope of ever getting a job?  Of finding new love?  Of achieving even a crumb of human happiness?

Actually, I believe that's exactly what Debbie Downer is saying: That if you are overweight and over fifty, it's over for you.  Period.  Game over.  Better hurry and call Nutrisystem now or you're doomed to a life of misery and destitution, living under the freeway, wearing a tattered muumuu, sharing a can of Fancy Feast with your cats.

(Note to Nutrisystem: if you're going over to the Dark Side, why not go all the way and admit the real truth: that if you're over fifty in our society, there's no hope      for you, regardless of what you weigh).

Frankly, I'm amazed that this commercial made it on the air in its current form.  Most marketers bend over backwards to avoid even the slightest hint of "negativity".  They focus group every single word to make absolutely sure there's zero risk of offending even a single customer, of tarnishing their brand, or having their message misconstrued in any way. 

Did Nutrisystem think that older women would respond positively to this woman's startling admission that it's all over for the fifty-plus crowd if they don't lose their love handles?  Did they think that kind of blunt scare tactic would be compelling?  Or did they just not think about it?

I don't offend easily, but there's still something very unsettling about this commercial.  Maybe it's too honest?   Maybe there really is no hope.  Maybe we just can't handle the truth.

At the end of the commercial, bubbly Marie Osmond asks the woman what it feels like to lose 60 pounds with Nutrisystem.  The woman says it's incredible...she's never looked better or been happier in her entire life.  Yet she looks tired, drawn and utterly miserable.  She actually looked healthier – and younger – in her "before" photo.

That gives me hope.

Turning Lemons Into Lulus

This morning, I walked past a sign in front of the Lululemon yoga apparel        store in downtown San Francisco.  The sign said, "Do one thing a day that scares you." 

Really?  Just one thing?

My day is already chocked full of things that scare me; from answering my phone to opening my cable bill or watching promos for "Keeping Up With the Kardashians".  I don't need to do more scary things; I've already met my daily quota – and then some (and if I want to do something truly scary, all I have to do is try on a pair of those Lululemon low-waisted stretch yoga pants.             That could traumatize me for weeks).

But what really scares me is this kind of precious, oh-so-self-conscious marketing parading as something else.  The harder companies try to appear "authentic", the more phony-baloney they seem – and the more manipulated     I feel.   I don't shop at Lululemon.  Horror of horrors, I don't even do yoga.      But I do know that Lululemon is a wildly successful brand with a cult-like following (known as "Luluheads").  Their founder, Chip Wilson, has a reputation for being a marketing genius.

Well, Chip, you certainly got my attention with that sign of yours.  I'm sure it was meant to prompt some long overdue introspection – and send me running into your store to buy a $100 hoodie.  Instead, it immediately set off my bullshit detector.  I wanted to run as far away from Lululand as I could get.

Frankly, I resent having a retailer that sells overpriced yoga pants and sports bras doling out unsolicited advice on how to find enlightenment and improve self-esteem (you really want to boost my self-esteem?  Try raising the waistlines on those damned pants).

But I get it: what that sign was really saying was:  Lululemon is an authentic, unique brand...we don't sell clothing...we sell self-improvement, personal empowerment and one-size-fits-all spirituality.  Oh, and we're also just so darned irreverant and playful!

What I didn't realize was that the cheeky advice on the store sign is only the tip of the Lululemon self-improvement iceberg. When I checked their website, I discovered an entire Lululemon "Manifesto".  For sheer wacky-ness, the Manifesto is the motherload – a splendid mishmash of the practical and the downright wierd.   Some of the items are clearly related to yoga, health and exercise:

"Sweat once a day to regenerate your skin."

"Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment."

"Stress is related to 99% of all illness." 

"Drink FRESH water and as much water as you can."

Those seem harmless enough.  After all, if you sell yoga clothes,  it makes perfect sense to espouse tips about health, exercise and stress-reduction.         But the Lulunuts don't stop there.  Because then the Manifesto veers off into a bizarre mix of cutesy, philosophical and utterly random gems such as:

 "Dance, sing, floss and travel."  

 "Communication is COMPLICATED.  We are all raised in a different family with slightly different definitions of every word."

"Listen, listen, listen, and then ask strategic questions." 

They've also included some helpful retirement planning advice:  "Don't trust that an old age pension will be sufficient."

There's this radical notion (inspired, no doubt, by a fortune cookie or Suze Ormon): "Friends are more important than money."

And this lulu of an insight: "Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce.  Mediocre is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life."

Yogis tell us to "live in the question".  After reading the Lulu Manifesto, my only question is: "WTF?!?"  I guess what I'm supposed to think is, "Those wonderful, selfless people at Lululemon aren't even interested in money.  They care about me and share my values.  Wow.  That's so cool."   Instead, all I can think about is how this cagey company managed to earn a cool $350 million last year by yuppi-fying yoga wear and serving it up with some quasi-New Age hogwash.

For all I know, maybe the Luluheads embrace this BS with the same devotion they have for the Lulu Groove Crop Pants ($86) and the Push Ur Limits Tank ($52).  Or, maybe they just enjoy the clothes and the cachet.

As for me, I have a sudden need to breathe deeply and chant very quietly, "Spare me.  Spare me.  Spare me."

But hey, at least I did one scary thing today:  I took a closer look into the dark soul of Lululemon.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Miracle Whipped

What does your mayonnaise say about you?  It's not a question I had pondered a lot.  That is, until I saw the latest round of Miracle Whip commercials.  

These spots feature attitude-inal twenty-somethings dancing, hanging out and occasionally munching on sandwiches made with Miracle Whip.  Against an aggressive music track, we hear a flat, in-your-face young male voiceover snarling, "Don't go unnoticed.  Don't blend in.  Don't be ordinary...boring...or bland.  WE are Miracle Whip and WE will NOT tone it down.  Don't be SO MAYO."

Wow.  I'm "too mayo".  Who knew?  I used to think that jar of Hellmans in my fridge was just bad for my cholesterol.  Little did I know it was also bad for my image.  I never realized my brand of mayo carried a stigma.  Now I know better.  Oh, the shame.  Quick!  Hide the jar behind a milk carton and pray no one sees it.

Of course, the marketing folks at Kraft clearly aren't talking to me.  For reasons      I can't quite fathom, they've decided to target the youth market.  Maybe young people don't eat enough mayonnaise.  Or maybe young people are the only ones who can actually afford to eat mayonnaise, because they're not worried about consuming a gazillion calories and the words "artery-clogging" haven't yet entered their vocabulary.

Regardless of the rationale, Miracle Whip wants this demographic.  And they're willing to alienate  the rest of us in the process.  Actually, they may even be turning off the young folks they're trying so desperately to win over;  a quick search on YouTube reveals that this commercial is being dissed - and spoofed like crazy.  My faith in young people has been restored!   Check out this hilarious rant by my new hero, "boydman 117":

The strategy behind the "don't be bland" message is transparent; it surely came out of an ingredients story.   Miracle Whip has always positioned itself as a tastier alternative to mayonnaise.  Maybe it has a tad more flavor or is tangy-er than other brands of mayo.   In the past, they would have said Miracle Whip tasted "zesty" or "zippy".  Corny, perhaps, but I'd rather stomach a few, dumb adjectives than have to watch these unbelievably odious spots.

I thought the launch spot in this campaign was bad.  But now, the miracle workers at the agency have whipped up a new spot that's even more obnoxious.  In this latest commercial, they really throw down the gauntlet.  Same edgy twenty-somethings.  Same droning, confrontational voiceover.  But this time, the commercial ends with a challenge, asking "Are YOU Miracle Whip?".  The graphic on the last screen simply says, "Are you MW?", as if they couldn't be bothered to spell out the whole name (if you have to ask, this mayo is definitely not for you).

In other words, are you a rebellious, hip, young person who is on the cutting edge of condiments?  Or are you a tired, old BORING person who is willing to settle for anything -- in life or on top of your Turkey Club?

All I know is, every time these commercials come on, I just want to gag.          Thanks for asking, but I am so not Miracle Whip.  And thanks to these utterly tasteless and offensive spots, I am so not going to buy it.

Tolerable TV (Now That's Progressive)

I love writing about bad tv commercials.  It's lots of fun - and there is certainly never any shortage of material.

But let's  face it, with so many crappy spots polluting the airwaves, critiquing them is a bit like shooting fish in a  barrel - it's good for a few, cheap laughs, but it's not exactly a challenge.

Good commercials are a lot harder to come by.  And a lot harder to create and sell.  So once in a while, I like to give credit where credit is due and applaud a campaign that got it right.

Which brings me to the Progressive car insurance spots. You know, the ones with the quirky, brunette spokeswoman, "Flo" (apparently, her name is "Flo", although this fact had somehow escaped me).

The main reason I'm giving this campaign high marks is because it could have gone so horribly wrong. The "Ongoing Spokesperson/Character" is a classic, tried-and-true advertising technique that's been around forever.  When it's done really well, this genre can be extremely effective and memorable (think "Jack" from Jack in the Box or the Geico Gecko).  But most of the time, it's just utterly annoying and obnoxious.

This is one of the hardest types of campaigns to pull off, because so much hinges on the appeal of the spokesperson.  The casting in the Progressive spots is brilliant; "Flo" is played to quirky perfection by Stephanie Courtney, a Groundlings improv actress with heaps of oddball charm and impeccable comic timing. 
I can't help wondering what would have happened if she didn't show up for the casting session that day.  Was there anyone else who could have played this character and made her palatable?  And if there wasn't, would the campaign have been scrapped?  Would they have gone ahead and produced the spots anyway?  Perhaps the scripts were even written with this actress in mind - I'd love to know. 

Let's just say it was a gamble (another gamble was deciding to give Flo a campy, retro look that screams "Look at me - I'm just so quirky!".  There's absolutely no rhyme or reason for this choice, but it somehow works).

Then there's the writing.  I enjoy watching these spots because they're written with a deft, light touch. The dialogue is always fresh, the humor is never forced, and the scenarios play out in a somewhat unpredictable way.  I don't know if Stephanie is responsible for any of this - perhaps she improvised some of the lines? -  but whomever is writing these scripts deserves a lot of credit.  I don't even own a car, and I always pay attention.  On the other hand, I'm not sure these scripts ever looked so great on paper...they rely so much on the performance.

The other reason these spots are effective is because they don't take themselves too seriously and they don't make any attempt at realism.  The setting is a totally make-believe, highly stylized world with a simple white, seamless backdrop and minimal propping.  Can you imagine how painful it would be if they'd played it as a real Progressive office and pretended "Flo" was an actual employee?  Yikes.

It's not that these are really great commercials.  They are fairly traditional. 
I'm sure this campaign won't win any industry awards.  It's not "edgy" enough
and there are no gratuitous special effects.  But that's exactly why I like it; the advertisers manage to serve up a lot of dry information in a simple, clear and entertaining way.  Hey, in my book, any TV spot that I don't automatically mute
is a winner.

Whether you love or hate the Progressive commercials, the campaign must be working, because they keep airing new spots.  A cursory Google search reveals that Stephanie Courtney is garnering tons of attention and fans.  She must be raking in the residual checks.  I'm sure she'll have her own sitcom soon (I'll bet they're working on a pilot as we speak).

In spite of all these kudos, I don't think this is a campaign that can go on forever.  Even this character's schtick begins to get old after a while.  A little quirky goes
a long way.  The spots air so often, they're already beginning to wear out. 
Viewers will soon tire of Flo and her antics and demand something new.
And the poor Creative team that created her will be back to the drawing board (don't be surprised if Flo gets a sidekick).

But for the moment, I'm just relieved that I don't have to reach for the mute button every time these spots come on.  I guess I'm just grateful for small miracles.

 

And yes, it's our brand name!

One of the unavoidable side effects of working in Advertising is that you view commercials with a very jaundiced eye, to say the least.  When I watch a commercial, I don't just see the commercial on the screen; I see the whole back story; I can picture the client meetings...the pitch...even imagine the focus group feedback that influenced the final concept (usually for the worst).  More often than not, I can easily guess the Creative Strategy and the "core idea".  It's usually pretty obvious; most commercials are no more than thinly-disguised Strategy statements.

It's also easy to spot a client with a "branding problem".  For whatever reason, the client has decided that their brand name has lost its former luster, or that their brand is losing market share to the competition.  One time-honored solution - favored by many clients -  is to mention the brand name often, and in as obtrusive a way as possible, in their tv commercial. 

My favorite current example of this syndrome is the new Glade air freshener campaign.  I'm fascinated by this campaign in part because of its retro, 1950s "Happy Housewife" feel.  In the spots, a perky suburban housewife introduces her less sophisticated friends to the joys of a fresh, Glade-scented home.  When her buddies drop by for yoga practice, they are greeted with the wonderful scent of "Apple Cinnamon", "Jasmine" and "Clean Linen" wafting through their host's home.  Glade Lady's smug secret?  Glade Scented Gel Plug-Ins, of course.  A few, strategically-placed "Plug-Ins" have transformed her domicile into a fresh-smelling oasis (presumably just in the nick of time, before her sweaty friends get going on their yoga poses).

What intrigues me most about the spots is their blatant "branding device"; at the end of every spot...after we've heard the name "Glade" mentioned at least a dozen times...Glade Lady turns directly to the camera and winks, "And yes, it's Glade."  I'm always fascinated by the "And yes" part of the line.  Were we doubting that these wondrous new air fresheners were from Glade?  Did a focus group, upon seeing the air fresheners, express surprise that Glade, of all people, turned out such delightful and effective products?  Was Glade getting a reputation for dragging their feet in the innovation department?  I always thought Glade was synonymous with "air fresheners"...but who knows, maybe Air Wick has been cleaning their clocks.

The latest spot in the campaign is by far my favorite.  It's for Glade's new, "Sense & Spray" Motion Sensor plug-in.  Yes, you heard that right.  Obviously, consumers didn't like the idea of their air fresheners working continuously - even when they're not in the room.  Glade to the rescue!  This new item only emits a puff of fragrance when you walk by.  It's like a mini, plastic Mount Vesuvius, magically emitting a puff of fragrant mist from the top of its white, plastic cone-like container...but only when needed.  Let's hear it for American ingenuity.  The R&D team at Johnson & Johnson must have been working overtime on this one...it's pure genius!  Who says America is out of good ideas?

I can just picture the poor Creative team when they were handed this assignment.  By this time, they had already established "Glade Lady".  What to do?  The solution: have her sneak around her own home, peeking in windows, and around corners, trying to outsmart the Glade Motion Sensor.  Will she catch it working when she's not in the room?  Of course not!  Ample proof the precious, Glade scented mist isn't being wasted on an empty bathroom - thank God - it's only there when you need it.

And yes, at the end of the spot, we are reminded once again who makes this irresistible new product. "And yes, it's Glade", chirps the knowing, slightly smug, odor-fighting housewife.  How do I know she's a housewife?  Who else has time to stay home all day, sneaking around the house, checking on air fresheners?