(Fourth in a series)
A Loyal Reader Asks:
“How can you teach young jocks to ‘be real’ — to break out of the ‘I’m a DJ’ persona and become communicators?”
Have them identify what they want to accomplish before they begin each break.
“To read the contest promo” is not a goal that fosters communication.
“To entice people to listen a few minutes longer in the hopes of winning this great prize” is a specific, positive goal.
While one is eating a shrimp burrito at Eduardo’s Border Grill, one will read pretty much anything.
On this day, the only reading material was a thick advertising book filled with ads for housing in southern California.
I’m sure the full-color ads are expensive, and I found myself agog at the consistently terrible copywriting — no doubt written either by the advertiser (sound familiar?) or by some underpaid publication employee who has no real education in ad copywriting (sound familiar?).
The front of the book was devoted to “senior living.”
I’ll omit the name of this advertiser. But I noticed the identical boiler plate copy was used in at least one other ad by the same company.
There actually was some good stuff in this ad. But it was overshadowed by the bad stuff.
“This is your personal invitation to experience X’s many services and accommodations.”
Well, no, it’s not a personal invitation. It’s an impersonal magazine ad. And that ad promotes your “services and accommodations”?? Ooh, irresistible.
“At X, hospitality abounds with good taste and quality appointments throughout.”
Hospitality abounds? Was this written in some other language and then run through Google Translates?
If you say your place has “good taste,” of course I believe you. Even though your taste and mine might be very, very different. (Oddly, I didn’t see a single ad that described the property as being in bad taste.)
“Quality appointments” — Okay, c’mon, you’re kidding me, right?
“Marge, you’ve got to come over and see my new apartment. You won’t believe the quality appointments!”
“We continually raise the standard of excellence for retirement living.”
Oh. Uh-huh. Sure. And aren’t you special?
“…our outstanding, caring staff…”
I admit that does contrast with the other ads that declared, “Our mediocre staff really couldn’t care less.”
“X, where your lifestyle deserves truly special living opportunities.”
Which is more stupid? The supposition that a lifestyle “deserves” something? Or the term “living opportunities”? (I suppose if the ad were for a hospice, that might possibly be appropriate…)
The few readers who hadn’t already moved on to the next ad might finally have noticed, toward the bottom of the page, these features:
“Gourmet meals, maid service, planned activities, and chauffeured transportation”
“Planned activities” isn’t especially compelling (albeit, perhaps, reassuring to the prospect’s adult children). But gourmet meals? Maid service? The availability of chauffeured transportation? Those have genuine appeal to affluent retirement community dwellersl
The one really good thing in this ad — which, alas, is easy to overlook due to the page layout — is a large, black & white photograph, appearing to be circa 1943: a smiling man in uniform lovingly embracing and gazing into the face of a radiant, attractive young woman.
While I suppose it could be an especially grateful patron expressing her thanks to the postal carrier for having delivered the gift wrapped package she holds in one hand, it looks very much like a young couple reuniting after the husband has returned home from the war.
Why is that a brilliant touch? Because it gives meaning to the otherwise corny (and almost meaningless) title of this ad: “Celebrate Your Life.”
Most of the “senior living” ads feature photographs of…senior citizens. Which only makes sense.
But this ad presents an image not of their prospects as they are today, with the aches and pains and physical “conditions” they’ve earned over a lifetime. It presents the couple at perhaps the happiest time of their lives.
That is the life this advertisement claims to be celebrating. Too bad the rest of the ad celebrates nothing but cold, lifeless, dumb dumb dumb writing.
KFWB Color Radio program director Chuck Blore describes how the first commercial ever read by America’s first DJ, Al Jarvis, was hit with “technical difficulties.”
September, 1996 (continued):
Health Food
Following my extraordinarily fun Atlanta trip, I flew to New Orleans, where Steve Olson had arranged for me to a guest speaker at the Public Radio Program Directors Association’s annual conference.
When I reached my hotel room, I found awaiting me a beautiful table setting of whipped cream, strawberries, and what looked like crushed pralines.
I called Room Service and said, “Hey, this is really beautiful! Where’s the ice cream for the sundae?”
I was told that the “crushed pralines” actually was powered brown sugar and that the dessert — a New Orleans tradition — was complete without any ice cream.
So I ate it that way. It was good, but I still think it could have used some vanilla ice cream.
After my session, I left the hotel at 4:40PM in a taxi for the airport; my flight was scheduled for 6:10.
It was raining quite hard and the traffic was very slow…so slow that I fretted about reaching the airport in time.
As luck would have it, I found myself with the only taxi driver in America who drives slower than the speed limit.
He seemed intent upon leaving empty three car lengths ahead of us…which is a good idea at high speeds (or even at moderate speeds in the rain) but which when barely moving only meant that we repeatedly found ourselves further back in traffic by three additional cars (at which time, of course, he would slow down to allow for three more car lengths to intervene between us and the car ahead).
We reached the airport at 5:50 — a mere 20 minutes before my flight.
I raced inside to look for my gate…only (of course) to be told the flight was delayed until 6:40.
