One come on I have known & hated

With all the discussion about interactive marketing, we sometimes forget that there are some marketers who still do things the old fashioned way.

I write, of course, about the Come On, the little enticement that will get you interested in buying something.

Even us B2B marketers indulge occasionally: Fill out this survey, and you can win the iPod. Buy now and get the first year’s support free.

But nothing along the lines of the cheesy little postcard I got the other day from the AVC Claims (ahem) Center, which informed me that I “Did Not Pick Up! Parcel #8216C”, and that I had but a brief 72 hours in which to call and claim my prize.

Final notice! Final attempt!

You see, I have apparently won one of 4 “guaranteed” prizes:

A new MERCEDES BENZ M-Class, BMW X5, PORSCHE Cayenne or $40,000 CASH, a $1,500 Shopping Spree, Exotic Island Adventure, $806 value or $500 CASH.

Yes, this would be easier to parse out if the “writer” knew anything about semi-colons, but I’m a pretty good guesser, and my pretty good guess is that I haven’t won the car, the  spree, or the cash. And all I have to do to win that Exotic Island Adventure is listen to someone’s spiel for 90 minutes or so.)

This is, of course, a come on for some seedy, dreary little time sharing “resort.” The one in Massachusetts - which I’m presumably targeted for - features an 18 hole mini-golf course, ping pong and board games. (Board games! Wow! I’d never be able to afford board games on my own. Sign me up.) The info on this resort also tells us that it’s not far from Tanglewood, where the Boston Symphony Orchestra plays in the summer. If these guys can show me just one Tanglewood attendees who owns a time-share at this joint, I’ll eat the little yellow postcard my prize info came on.

Truly, I am amazed that scam artists can continue to send out these misleading little come ons, but I guess they must work.

But wouldn’t it be refreshing to actually get one that said:

I might not respond to that either, but I sure wouldn’t hold the card at arm’s length, with my nose pinched to avoid the sulphur wafting from the lies from the pit of hell….


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