My birthday is in a couple of weeks. We have a tradition in my family where you’re not allowed to buy yourself anything during the month leading up to a birthday, so I’ve been hurriedly adding things to my Amazon.com wish list for most of this month. The last time I broke that rule, my brothers swore they’d never buy me anything again (apparently they’d already picked up and wrapped a CD I bought myself the weekend before my 18th birthday).
Luckily, this family rule also helps me avoid a lot of promotional advertising leading up to my birthday. Different restaurants I frequent will send me gift vouchers – my favorite pub (sadly, it’s now closed) used to send me a certificate for a free drink. I get cards from financial advisors, courtesy phone calls from the guy who changes my oil, and once even a thank you note and Starbucks gift card from a client.
Everyone seems to know when my birthday is coming, and everyone who likes me to spend money hopes to earn my business by being extra nice and offering me a special, timely discount.
Today, though, a particular company did the exact opposite. In my inbox was an advertisement from Best Buy. You know, the big-box electronics retailer that I don’t buy big ticket items from because their service department kinda sucks? Yeah, them. Apparently my one or two DVD purchases last year has kept me high enough on their radar to warrant a special offer.
They’re inviting me to give them money to celebrate my birthday!
Exciting, huh? Not a discount. Not a freebie. Not even a personalized birthday card. But an invitation to spend more money in exchange for triple to quadruple points on whatever I buy.
For the record – you normally get 1 point for every $1 you spend. And since it takes 250 points to get a $5 coupon back, I need to spend between … $62 to $80 just to save $5.
Not so enticing a deal when you put it that way, is it?
If I were in the market for a new LCD display, a new printer, or a new PC this might seem like a stellar deal. But since I never buy anything that expensive the few weeks leading up to my birthday, it’s not likely.
Here’s the thing. Best Buy is trying to appeal to my spoiled sense of self-importance. They’re sending me an email to wish me a happy birthday and offer me a special deal to convince me that I stick out from the crowd. They know I use reward points because they track my purchasing behavior through my rewards card.
But then they fall short.
Rewards cards, club cards, priority cards. They exist to give the vendor a better idea of who you are. It’s a decentralized, corporate model for relationship building – by tracking my purchases, the company can better predict what I’ll purchase in the future, when I’ll spend a lot of money, and to which advertisements I’ll be likely to respond.
Obviously, Best Buy isn’t using their cards this way. No personalized shopping recommendations accompanied the email. No personalized notes. No we-know-you-and-earnestly-want-to-celebrate-your-birthday sentiment.
The entire email reads as yet another corporate attempt to trick me into shelling out my hard-earned cash for something I don’t actually need. Which is a bit sad, really.
I thought marketing and consumer relations had come a bit farther than this …
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