So, why am I not wearing my dumb punter hat?
Words & images © Paul Ransom
Most of us know the routine. We receive the breathless emails, transport the preposterous pamphlets from mailbox to recycling bin, and endure the condescending ads. This bargain, that never-to-be-repeated offer, yet another priceless opportunity to ‘rate your experience’.
Usually, we mark as spam or delete without reading. No harm done. Just another highly disposable cog in the marketing machine. However, late last week, my attention snagged on a subject line of such astounding stupidity that I was impelled to click.
The culprit in question was a neo-bank. Their regular product is innovative, low on bureaucracy, and super-handy. I may not be a vocal fan, but I genuinely appreciate the portability they offer and will likely be using their service again.
That said, I am now wondering if they have esteem issues. So desperate do they seem to ‘engage’ that they frequently stoop to silliness. Competitions, surveys, childish cartoon graphics. They remind me of a toddler: pay attention to me.
Usually, I sigh a quick what-ever before consigning their missives to virtual oblivion. But not this time. The marketing department have just set a new low. Last week’s clickbait was sold as a merch giveaway. I was urged to ‘head on over to Instagram’ – as though it were an actual place – and tell the bank’s followers what my ‘money anthem’ was.
No, really. I think they were being serious. What song, they wondered, popped into my head when I opened my wallet?
Well duh…no fucking song at all. Obviously! I mean, c’mon, I pull out the plastic and…what…cue the context-specific earworm? How about The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle? As in, “that ain’t bad for two week’s work and £75000.”1
If that wasn’t dumb enough, the lure was the chance to win one of 25…wait for it…baseball caps. You got it, folks – all that clicking and sharing of deeply private information for the privilege of strutting my stuff in one of the bank’s offensively ugly corporate branding hats.
NOTE: Remember, we are talking about a tightly regulated financial institution here, one that is able to function seamlessly across currencies and jurisdictions. A relatively sophisticated outfit, yet one still opting for cartoon graphics and free t-shirts as the best way of connecting with their ‘community’. Which begs the question, just who do they think we are?
You may chuckle to yourself and wonder who, over the age of fifteen, would actually bother? And who in their right mind has a money-themed ditty primed to play at the merest hint of pay-wave? Moreover, who the hell follows a bank on Instagram? Surely no-one not on the payroll.
But then…why did the marketing bods think it was a good idea to proffer fast fashion kitsch as a way of getting us to help drive up their click count?
You might be tempted to dismiss this as evidence of an out-of-touch corporate culture, one in which increasingly befuddled and desperate marketing execs scrabble for the last vestiges of our rapidly diminishing, algorithmically shaped pool of attention. Either that, or the work experience kid swiped the send key while the adults were out to lunch.
However, the truth may be less amusing. The neo-bank nerds might be scraping the barrel clean of cheese because it pays off. Why do clever when stupid works? If waving free hats in front of people gets them in the door, order more of them hats, dammit.
Ah, so this is what my sleek digital bank thinks of me. Knows about me. To hell with all that globally seamless payment stuff, what really drives me is the fear of missing out on a piece of exclusively branded, man-child quality headgear. What’s more, I have a pre-loaded playlist in my head to help me soundtrack all of life’s big moments?
Existential crisis? No worries, here’s a little Eat Shit Fuck Die2 for you to hum while you ponder the grinding absurdity of your condition.
Gosh, now that I think of it, I can’t wait to tab across to Insta to share my life event hitlist with the community and co-promote my international payment partner’s exquisite fashion sense. Wow, is that a deeply satisfying sense of brand loyalty I feel inside me?
I laugh, but perhaps I should cry. Advertisers, influencers and others understand what triggers us. They have studied it with forensic self-interest. They know stuff about us we mostly care to deny. I may have passed up the opportunity to compete for a new wardrobe but my guess is that others didn’t. The freebie/fomo formula most likely resulted in a flurry of post engagement.
Material Girl, some will have typed. Money by Floyd, sundry dinosaurs will have roared. What makes such vacuity and vanity so sad is its predictability. The marketing team will have earned themselves yet another round of high fives, and before long a gaggle of lucky douchebags will be co-opted into the bank’s latest promo push.
- A deeper dive into how ads exploit unconscious bias can be found by clicking the bait.
Having worked in and around media for thirty odd years, I understand the battle for eyes. I know how easily it can degenerate into a race-to-the-bottom contest for market share. Although we love to sneer at the idiocy of the messaging – and perhaps indulge ourselves with the righteous dramas of conspiracy – we cannot forget who the message is for. Marketing mavens don’t insult our intelligence because they think we will bristle. They do it because we click.
Hence, ‘what’s your money anthem?’ – my cooly calculating neo-banking chums betting that I’d be tempted by the ego of having the coolest answer and the thrill of winning a baseball cap. Did they picture me wearing it backwards?
But here’s the thing. It worked. They got a reaction. Another thousand useless words right here. More fool me; because now I won’t even get a new hat.
1: The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle, by The Sex Pistols. The song features the quoted lyric, ‘that ain’t bad for two week’s work and £75000.’ It featured in Julien Temple’s film of the same name.
2: Eat Shit Fuck Die by All Systems Fail, 2011.
As If You Were Listening 