For every avid fan of Twitter and Facebook, there seems to be an equally vociferous social-media sceptic. This little case study should give the doubters reason to reconsider.
A few months back one of my favourite blogs, the Comics Curmudgeon, briefly mentioned an upcoming book about one of the best comic strips in the history of the medium, "Calvin and Hobbes". Author Nevin Martell was offering everyone who emailed him a free copy of the first chapter of his book, Looking for Calvin and Hobbes. I emailed, and several weeks later received my free chapter.
I wasn’t the only one. In an interview with the Robot 6 blog on the Comic Book Resources website, Martell said that more than 4,000 people requested the chapter. “My publishers told me that super successful versions of this kind of promotion in the past had garnered a couple of hundred requests. But then the offer got written up by BoingBoing and NPR, not to mention a slew of comic-related blogs and the Twittersphere, so suddenly I had hundreds of requests pouring in.” The success of the promotion spawned additional blog posts and articles, which in turn generated more publicity for the book.
Martell doesn’t have a deep-pocketed publishing house behind him (if such a thing as a deep-pocketed publishing house even exists anymore). And because his book appeals to a niche market, he wisely targeted niche websites with his offer. In fact, for all that pundits have said that ecommerce levels the playing field for smaller merchants, because of the lower cost of entry and whatnot, I think that social media have levelled the field even more (except, of course, that a field cannot be levelled “more”—it’s either level or it’s not. But I digress…).
Let’s say you sell something niche like pig collectibles (don’t laugh—I used to have an extensive collection of porcine novelties… okay, laugh if you must). Ten years ago you would have had to target general collectibles magazines and forums to promote your products. Now after just a few minutes online you can find websites, Facebook groups, newsletters, and the like for pig owners, pig fanciers, and yes, collectors of pig memorabilia. By setting up a blog on your ecommerce site, linking to other relevant sites, and striking up relationships with other bloggers, you could home in on pig fans without wasting resources reaching out to, say, guinea pig collectors or casting a wider, costlier, and perhaps unprofitable net to include collectibles buyers in general.
And people who participate in niche hobbies are, judging from anecdotal evidence, more engaged with social media than those favouring more-mainstream pursuits. Those of us who are really interested in something as fairly specialised as comic strips or pig figurines or Bronteana (hey, I have very catholic tastes) are usually so excited to come upon others sharing our same arcane hobby that we email and post and forward relevant links with virtually no encouragement.
Which is one reason I've included links to both Martell's book and the Comics Curmudgeon site in this post.--SC
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
November Catalogue Log
Christmas came early for our posties, in the form of far fewer catalogues to deliver in November than the previous two months. Catalogue e-business logged in 140 catalogues for the month, down nearly 24 percent from the 184 received in October and down 34 percent from September’s 212 catalogues. No doubt some of the decline in volume was due to fears of continued postal strikes; it wasn’t until 5th November that the Communication Workers Union agreed not to strike against Royal Mail at least until after Christmas.
Catalogue volume wasn’t the only element to decline from October to November. So did the percentage of catalogues touting promotions. In November, 31.4 percent of the catalogues offered sales and discounts, down significantly from 41.3 percent in October. While 14.3 percent of the November catalogues promised a gift with purchase, 16.8 percent of the October catalogues had.
The percentage promising free delivery slid to 19.3 percent in November from 21.7 percent in October. Most of the free P&P offers were unconditional, incidentally, with only a handful (Baker Ross, Hawkins Bazaar, JML Direct, Lands’ End) tying it to a specific spending level.
Overall, nearly half of the November catalogues—49.3 percent to be precise—did not resort to special offers, compared with 41.3 percent of those received in October.
It appears that more merchants are trying to wring maximum margins from the all-important fourth quarter. Email and social media make this decision somewhat less risky than it used to be: If a cataloguer finds that full-price sales are falling short of goal, it can easily and quickly put together a promotional email and spread the word via Facebook and Twitter of special offers.
Among the more notable offers was a free upgrade to a Louisiana alligator watch strap with the purchase of a specific watch from Christopher Ward. The watchmaker also has what is one of my favourite slogans: “Time on your side”. Toys catalogue Letterbox had a nice tiered-discount scheme: 10 percent off orders up to £150, 15 percent off orders over £150. My only quibble with that promotion was the typography and wording of the message; I had to reread it nearly a half-dozen times before the words “up to” versus “over” jumped out at me. Maybe if they’d been in bold I wouldn’t have been so confused. (Or maybe I just need new glasses…)
Boden offered a 10 percent discount, plus free shipping, plus another £10 off. “I owe you a huge apology,” read the covering letter. “It took us far too long to realise that the catalogue you requested had not been sent to you. To atone for this blunder I’d like to give you a free tenner. You can use it on top of the offer printed on the cover.” To quote my colleague Miri, “Is there anything Boden doesn’t do right?”
Several of the October catalogues made a point of highlighting the cut-off dates for Christmas delivery, and as expected, more of the November editions did so. Some were refreshingly specific: Children’s furniture brand Aspace stated on page 3 “Order before 4pm on 22nd December for Christmas delivery”; apparel cataloguer Lands’ End has a deadline of 10pm on 21st December; Montezuma’s Chocolates gives a deadline of 21st December for standard delivery and 22nd December for express.
Catalogue volume wasn’t the only element to decline from October to November. So did the percentage of catalogues touting promotions. In November, 31.4 percent of the catalogues offered sales and discounts, down significantly from 41.3 percent in October. While 14.3 percent of the November catalogues promised a gift with purchase, 16.8 percent of the October catalogues had.
The percentage promising free delivery slid to 19.3 percent in November from 21.7 percent in October. Most of the free P&P offers were unconditional, incidentally, with only a handful (Baker Ross, Hawkins Bazaar, JML Direct, Lands’ End) tying it to a specific spending level.
Overall, nearly half of the November catalogues—49.3 percent to be precise—did not resort to special offers, compared with 41.3 percent of those received in October.
It appears that more merchants are trying to wring maximum margins from the all-important fourth quarter. Email and social media make this decision somewhat less risky than it used to be: If a cataloguer finds that full-price sales are falling short of goal, it can easily and quickly put together a promotional email and spread the word via Facebook and Twitter of special offers.
Among the more notable offers was a free upgrade to a Louisiana alligator watch strap with the purchase of a specific watch from Christopher Ward. The watchmaker also has what is one of my favourite slogans: “Time on your side”. Toys catalogue Letterbox had a nice tiered-discount scheme: 10 percent off orders up to £150, 15 percent off orders over £150. My only quibble with that promotion was the typography and wording of the message; I had to reread it nearly a half-dozen times before the words “up to” versus “over” jumped out at me. Maybe if they’d been in bold I wouldn’t have been so confused. (Or maybe I just need new glasses…)
Boden offered a 10 percent discount, plus free shipping, plus another £10 off. “I owe you a huge apology,” read the covering letter. “It took us far too long to realise that the catalogue you requested had not been sent to you. To atone for this blunder I’d like to give you a free tenner. You can use it on top of the offer printed on the cover.” To quote my colleague Miri, “Is there anything Boden doesn’t do right?”
Several of the October catalogues made a point of highlighting the cut-off dates for Christmas delivery, and as expected, more of the November editions did so. Some were refreshingly specific: Children’s furniture brand Aspace stated on page 3 “Order before 4pm on 22nd December for Christmas delivery”; apparel cataloguer Lands’ End has a deadline of 10pm on 21st December; Montezuma’s Chocolates gives a deadline of 21st December for standard delivery and 22nd December for express.
But let's not end a blog post concerning Christmas shopping on such a matter-of-fact note. Here are two of our favourite catalogue covers that adorned our inboxes this month:
All together now: Awwww--SC
Monday, 30 November 2009
Why catalogues are like Marmite
“I look forward to each and every mail catalogue I receive.”
“Catalogues are the most favoured toilet reading material in my shared flat.”
“Hate them. Waste of time and money. Waste of resources.”
No, these are not quotes from a focus group. They’re comments on an item that appeared on the Jezebel blog last week. And though writing a blog post about a blog post is rather meta, I think it’s worth your while to check out the Jezebel item, “In the Internet Age, Does Anyone Still Like Catalogs?”, and perhaps even more so, the comments.
Fortunately for those of us in the industry, the number of commenters who waxed lyrical about catalogues outnumbered those who complained about the waste and inconvenience of them by about four to one. Because Jezebel is based in New York, the vast majority of commenters are American, with many citing American catalogues such as J. Crew, Williams-Sonoma, and Crate & Barrel as favourites. But the overriding sentiments, I think, apply to British shoppers as well.
For instance, even those who relish poring over print catalogues by and large prefer to order online. (Note: Jezebel’s target audience is young, media-savvy women.) Wrote one commenter: “Absolutely love catalogs from stores that i actually order from. i do ALL my ordering online~~ it's just fast and easy. but i don't use their websites to 'browse,' it's just so 1D and visually boring. even when they have animation and everything else...”
At least one reader, however, prefers ordering by phone: “…compared to ordering from a literal book, where all you do is pick up the phone and instantly, you have to jump through hoops to order over the net.”
Of course, some catalogue lovers are fans of the medium for reasons other than shopping. Noted one, “They’re fantastic for collages.” And another: “The other day, I got a Williams-Sonoma catalog in the mail and I spent a good 30 min drooling over the spiffy kitchen gadgets that I will never own because they are absurdly expensive.”
Those who loathe receiving catalogues were just as vociferous in their comments as those who love them. “Hate them. Waste of time and money. Waste of resources. A lot of companies, if I order something online, they send me a f---ing catalogue and refuse to stop sending it. I ordered ONLINE. I don't use your primitive printed material.” But tell us how you really feel, commenter Bythesea; don’t hold back.
As fascinating as the comments themselves is that so many people felt strongly enough about catalogues one way or another to submit their opinions. In this, catalogues are like Marmite: You love 'em or hate 'em. For most, it seems their sentiments for the print catalogues are tied directly to their feelings about the brands; the medium is indeed the message. All of which is something to think about if you’re considering drastically altering your print circulation strategy.--SC
“Catalogues are the most favoured toilet reading material in my shared flat.”
“Hate them. Waste of time and money. Waste of resources.”
No, these are not quotes from a focus group. They’re comments on an item that appeared on the Jezebel blog last week. And though writing a blog post about a blog post is rather meta, I think it’s worth your while to check out the Jezebel item, “In the Internet Age, Does Anyone Still Like Catalogs?”, and perhaps even more so, the comments.
Fortunately for those of us in the industry, the number of commenters who waxed lyrical about catalogues outnumbered those who complained about the waste and inconvenience of them by about four to one. Because Jezebel is based in New York, the vast majority of commenters are American, with many citing American catalogues such as J. Crew, Williams-Sonoma, and Crate & Barrel as favourites. But the overriding sentiments, I think, apply to British shoppers as well.
For instance, even those who relish poring over print catalogues by and large prefer to order online. (Note: Jezebel’s target audience is young, media-savvy women.) Wrote one commenter: “Absolutely love catalogs from stores that i actually order from. i do ALL my ordering online~~ it's just fast and easy. but i don't use their websites to 'browse,' it's just so 1D and visually boring. even when they have animation and everything else...”
At least one reader, however, prefers ordering by phone: “…compared to ordering from a literal book, where all you do is pick up the phone and instantly, you have to jump through hoops to order over the net.”
Of course, some catalogue lovers are fans of the medium for reasons other than shopping. Noted one, “They’re fantastic for collages.” And another: “The other day, I got a Williams-Sonoma catalog in the mail and I spent a good 30 min drooling over the spiffy kitchen gadgets that I will never own because they are absurdly expensive.”
Those who loathe receiving catalogues were just as vociferous in their comments as those who love them. “Hate them. Waste of time and money. Waste of resources. A lot of companies, if I order something online, they send me a f---ing catalogue and refuse to stop sending it. I ordered ONLINE. I don't use your primitive printed material.” But tell us how you really feel, commenter Bythesea; don’t hold back.
As fascinating as the comments themselves is that so many people felt strongly enough about catalogues one way or another to submit their opinions. In this, catalogues are like Marmite: You love 'em or hate 'em. For most, it seems their sentiments for the print catalogues are tied directly to their feelings about the brands; the medium is indeed the message. All of which is something to think about if you’re considering drastically altering your print circulation strategy.--SC
Friday, 27 November 2009
XX marks the spot
More attention to detail is required at this cataloguer, whose most recent mailer included the following customer notice on the front cover:
To spare its blushes, the company that produced this catalogue will remain nameless. If this is your business, someone probably has a bit of explaining to do.—MT
To spare its blushes, the company that produced this catalogue will remain nameless. If this is your business, someone probably has a bit of explaining to do.—MT
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Vive la difference
Last night, my boyfriend and I were looking online for some Christmas gift inspiration. It struck me that we use the internet in completely different ways, and I am sure I am not alone in noting how frustrating it is to watch someone else shop online.
For one thing, he never—and I mean never ever—types the URL straight into the address bar. Even if he knows it, and even if it’s Amazon! He uses Google for everything (yes, Google specifically, no other search engine will do). At least now I have trained him not to automatically click on the paid-search links and instead look through the organic search results first. I imagine Google’s fortune is largely made up of lazy customers clicking on paid links instead of typing the merchants’ URLs directly into the address bar.
When he doesn’t know where to buy the item he’s looking for he’ll type it into Google and use Google’s product search. I tend to use a comparison site like Kelkoo, a marketplace or eBay, or if I know a shop that might do it, I’d search for that seller and see what else comes up on the page. I also like to use Quidco, which my boyfriend thinks is a waste of time. (We’ll see if he still thinks that after I buy a tasty takeaway for us both with the saving I made on home insurance)
Tabs are another bone of contention. Say a search has thrown up several different options, I personally like to open each page in a new tab, assess each one and close the tab once I know I no longer need it. That’s not how he does it. He loathes having more than three tabs open at once. He thinks it makes the machine run slower, and for all I know it might, but I like it my way.
When we’ve settled on a product but don’t want to buy it straight away I like to bookmark the product using the social-media widgets. He didn’t even know what the “Addthis” button did. I am proud to have imparted some of my web wisdom onto him. I love the Addthis button. I use it all the time to send myself product reminders and send him suggestions. My boyfriend prefers to either save his basket, manually add the page to his favourites, or write the product number down somewhere. What we both agree on however, is that more websites should give you the ability to save the basket and return to it another time from another computer.
Luckily my boyfriend isn’t so trigger happy that he completes the checkout process without looking for discount codes first. At first I thought it was a girly thing to do, but now anecdotal evidence shows more men are now coming round to the idea of searching for vouchers.
What all this goes to show is that you can never assume that because you shop online one way, your husband, colleague, or customer will do the same. Even more important is user testing. It might be frustrating to watch people double-click a web link on your site, but unless you know how your customers want to shop with you, you'll leave a gap that your competitor will fill.—MT
For one thing, he never—and I mean never ever—types the URL straight into the address bar. Even if he knows it, and even if it’s Amazon! He uses Google for everything (yes, Google specifically, no other search engine will do). At least now I have trained him not to automatically click on the paid-search links and instead look through the organic search results first. I imagine Google’s fortune is largely made up of lazy customers clicking on paid links instead of typing the merchants’ URLs directly into the address bar.
When he doesn’t know where to buy the item he’s looking for he’ll type it into Google and use Google’s product search. I tend to use a comparison site like Kelkoo, a marketplace or eBay, or if I know a shop that might do it, I’d search for that seller and see what else comes up on the page. I also like to use Quidco, which my boyfriend thinks is a waste of time. (We’ll see if he still thinks that after I buy a tasty takeaway for us both with the saving I made on home insurance)
Tabs are another bone of contention. Say a search has thrown up several different options, I personally like to open each page in a new tab, assess each one and close the tab once I know I no longer need it. That’s not how he does it. He loathes having more than three tabs open at once. He thinks it makes the machine run slower, and for all I know it might, but I like it my way.
When we’ve settled on a product but don’t want to buy it straight away I like to bookmark the product using the social-media widgets. He didn’t even know what the “Addthis” button did. I am proud to have imparted some of my web wisdom onto him. I love the Addthis button. I use it all the time to send myself product reminders and send him suggestions. My boyfriend prefers to either save his basket, manually add the page to his favourites, or write the product number down somewhere. What we both agree on however, is that more websites should give you the ability to save the basket and return to it another time from another computer.
Luckily my boyfriend isn’t so trigger happy that he completes the checkout process without looking for discount codes first. At first I thought it was a girly thing to do, but now anecdotal evidence shows more men are now coming round to the idea of searching for vouchers.
What all this goes to show is that you can never assume that because you shop online one way, your husband, colleague, or customer will do the same. Even more important is user testing. It might be frustrating to watch people double-click a web link on your site, but unless you know how your customers want to shop with you, you'll leave a gap that your competitor will fill.—MT
Thursday, 19 November 2009
The “big book” isn’t dead yet
The headline of the press release was innocuous enough: “JCPenney Transforms Catalog Strategy to Better Serve Customer Preferences”. But beneath the corporate-speak came the real news: The Stateside department store retailer is discontinuing its twice-a-year “big book” general-merchandise catalogue to focus on the web and speciality mailings. The fall/winter 2009 edition will be the last. It will also be the last major consumer big-book catalogue in the US. Montgomery Ward ceased publishing its big book in the mid-1980s; Spiegel and Sears retired theirs in the 1990s.
So the big book is dead in the US; long live the big book in the UK?
Without a doubt, the traditional UK big books aren’t as big as they used to be. And the Big Six are now owned by just two companies: Shop Direct Group has commandeered Littlewoods, Great Universal, Empire, and Kays (transforming the latter three into near-identical triplets), while Freemans Grattan Holdings owns—wait for it—both Freemans and Grattan. The Big Six have moved from their agency roots, though the ability to pay for products in weekly or monthly instalments remains part of their appeal to lower-income consumers and those ineligible for major credit cards.
Of course, those brands could still offer payment plans as online-only entities or while substituting smaller, niche catalogues for their comprehensive editions. And in fact Shop Direct this summer rebranded its Littlewoods Direct fascia (which unlike the core Littlewoods brand did not allow for weekly payments) as Very. The website, which has a prominent social-networking component, is Very’s core sales vehicle; the first print catalogue under the new name was nothing more than a compilation of tiny photos and SKU numbers of every item available on the website, designed solely to drive readers to Very.co.uk.
The second edition of the Very catalogue, however, did revert back to a more traditional big-book form: in situ photos, a variety of page layouts, 676 pages versus 354, the listing of the call centre phone number as well as the website URL, an index, size guides. Which suggests that the UK is not ready to abandon the big books just yet.
Another sign that the extinction of the big book in the UK isn’t yet imminent: The past few years have seen a few new entrants. Supermarket giants Tesco and Asda both launched comprehensive catalogues of their nonfood, nonapparel offering in the past few years. These catalogues follow the Argos big-book model, and not just in appearance (smaller trim size, boxy layouts). For all three brands, you can have products delivered to you or you can pick them in-store (though not all Asda and Tesco supermarkets allow for store pickup of direct orders just yet).
Why, though, do the Brits still favour comprehensive print catalogues while the Yanks apparently don’t? A few thoughts:
* The US is a much more diverse population and therefore has more need of speciality catalogues. The BNP’s fear-mongering to the contrary, 92.1 percent of the UK population is white, according to the 2001 census, and of that group, according to the CIA World Factbook, nearly 84 percent are of English ethnicity. Indians are the largest minority group, with 1.8 percent of the population. In the States, according to projections from the US Census Bureau, 68 percent of the population are non-Hispanic whites, with Hispanics of all races accounting for 15 percent, African Americans 12 percent, and Asians 5 percent. When you’re speaking to a less homogenous audience, you need to create more-specialised marketing to best target their distinct preferences and needs. For example, Spanish-language versions of mailings make good sense for many Stateside marketers.
And that’s just barebones ethnic diversity. The US is also more diverse than the UK when it comes to geography and climate: If the fall-winter edition of a big-book catalogue features 50 pages of snow boots, anoraks, ice scrapers, and portable heaters, that’s 50 pages of content irrelevant to recipients in southern states.
* Digital marketing in the US is more advanced than in the UK, making it a more viable substitute for traditional print catalogues than in Britain. No, I’m not suggesting that digital can replace print full stop. But because US websites have been quicker to adopt features such as customer reviews, live chat, product recommendation engines, video demonstrations, and the like, they have become more of a primary resource for shoppers than the print catalogues. In response to this quicker evolution of ecommerce in the States, print catalogues over there have morphed more dramatically into traffic drivers. (For examples, see “Which is the tail and which is the dog?”.)
* The Brits love their traditions more than the Yanks. Despite the advent of satellite TV with its 500 channels of choice, and regardless of the fact that the monarchy is all but powerless, Brits still sit themselves in front of the telly after their Christmas dinner to watch the Queen’s Speech. It serves no real need and has no real effect on anyone’s life, but the British won’t give it up. So we shouldn’t be surprised that two-thirds of all UK households still have an Argos catalogue in their home at any given time. For most UK shoppers, it—and other big books—still works just fine, thank you.--SC
So the big book is dead in the US; long live the big book in the UK?
Without a doubt, the traditional UK big books aren’t as big as they used to be. And the Big Six are now owned by just two companies: Shop Direct Group has commandeered Littlewoods, Great Universal, Empire, and Kays (transforming the latter three into near-identical triplets), while Freemans Grattan Holdings owns—wait for it—both Freemans and Grattan. The Big Six have moved from their agency roots, though the ability to pay for products in weekly or monthly instalments remains part of their appeal to lower-income consumers and those ineligible for major credit cards.
Of course, those brands could still offer payment plans as online-only entities or while substituting smaller, niche catalogues for their comprehensive editions. And in fact Shop Direct this summer rebranded its Littlewoods Direct fascia (which unlike the core Littlewoods brand did not allow for weekly payments) as Very. The website, which has a prominent social-networking component, is Very’s core sales vehicle; the first print catalogue under the new name was nothing more than a compilation of tiny photos and SKU numbers of every item available on the website, designed solely to drive readers to Very.co.uk.
The second edition of the Very catalogue, however, did revert back to a more traditional big-book form: in situ photos, a variety of page layouts, 676 pages versus 354, the listing of the call centre phone number as well as the website URL, an index, size guides. Which suggests that the UK is not ready to abandon the big books just yet.
Another sign that the extinction of the big book in the UK isn’t yet imminent: The past few years have seen a few new entrants. Supermarket giants Tesco and Asda both launched comprehensive catalogues of their nonfood, nonapparel offering in the past few years. These catalogues follow the Argos big-book model, and not just in appearance (smaller trim size, boxy layouts). For all three brands, you can have products delivered to you or you can pick them in-store (though not all Asda and Tesco supermarkets allow for store pickup of direct orders just yet).
Why, though, do the Brits still favour comprehensive print catalogues while the Yanks apparently don’t? A few thoughts:
* The US is a much more diverse population and therefore has more need of speciality catalogues. The BNP’s fear-mongering to the contrary, 92.1 percent of the UK population is white, according to the 2001 census, and of that group, according to the CIA World Factbook, nearly 84 percent are of English ethnicity. Indians are the largest minority group, with 1.8 percent of the population. In the States, according to projections from the US Census Bureau, 68 percent of the population are non-Hispanic whites, with Hispanics of all races accounting for 15 percent, African Americans 12 percent, and Asians 5 percent. When you’re speaking to a less homogenous audience, you need to create more-specialised marketing to best target their distinct preferences and needs. For example, Spanish-language versions of mailings make good sense for many Stateside marketers.
And that’s just barebones ethnic diversity. The US is also more diverse than the UK when it comes to geography and climate: If the fall-winter edition of a big-book catalogue features 50 pages of snow boots, anoraks, ice scrapers, and portable heaters, that’s 50 pages of content irrelevant to recipients in southern states.
* Digital marketing in the US is more advanced than in the UK, making it a more viable substitute for traditional print catalogues than in Britain. No, I’m not suggesting that digital can replace print full stop. But because US websites have been quicker to adopt features such as customer reviews, live chat, product recommendation engines, video demonstrations, and the like, they have become more of a primary resource for shoppers than the print catalogues. In response to this quicker evolution of ecommerce in the States, print catalogues over there have morphed more dramatically into traffic drivers. (For examples, see “Which is the tail and which is the dog?”.)
* The Brits love their traditions more than the Yanks. Despite the advent of satellite TV with its 500 channels of choice, and regardless of the fact that the monarchy is all but powerless, Brits still sit themselves in front of the telly after their Christmas dinner to watch the Queen’s Speech. It serves no real need and has no real effect on anyone’s life, but the British won’t give it up. So we shouldn’t be surprised that two-thirds of all UK households still have an Argos catalogue in their home at any given time. For most UK shoppers, it—and other big books—still works just fine, thank you.--SC
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Huh of the day: Hyperdrug
It’s been a while since an email really made me think “Huh?”.
If you thought that a stationery supplies merchant stocking Christmas gifts was unusual, a pet pharmacy selling festive items would be even more out of the ordinary.
A couple of days ago I received an email entitled Gifts and Treats For Christmas from Hyperdrug. Hyperdrug is known as the “Equine Pharmacy, Pigeon Pharmacy and Canine Chemists” so before opening it I expected some pet-related gifts—treats for the dog, a scratching post for the cat, a winter rug for the horse maybe. Instead I was presented with a car cover, a deluxe heated airer, and binoculars among other what seemed to me as randomly selected items. The only thing animal-related was a heated dog bed.
A visit to Hyperdrug’s website only adds to the Huh? factor—“Electrical gifts for all the family” declared a banner. True, alongside its animal pharmacy Hyperdrug also stocks medicine for humans, but it wouldn’t be the first place I’d think of if in the market for a new hairdryer. Personally, I would have liked to see more animal-related gifts and items that that are not so commonly found in high-street chemists. Hyperdrug had the right idea with the dog bed, shame it didn't carry it through.
I also feel that Hyperdrug should have crafted its email a little more carefully to avoid flummaxing recipients . Instead of hitting inboxes with a vague “here are our offers” message, it should have gone in with something more like “did you know Hyperdrug also sells Christmas gifts? You can find them in a special section on the website, along with all your family’s healthcare needs”. As the adage goes, you need to sell the sizzle, not the steak. With so many others competing in the gifts market, why should I choose Hyperdrug?--MT
If you thought that a stationery supplies merchant stocking Christmas gifts was unusual, a pet pharmacy selling festive items would be even more out of the ordinary.
A couple of days ago I received an email entitled Gifts and Treats For Christmas from Hyperdrug. Hyperdrug is known as the “Equine Pharmacy, Pigeon Pharmacy and Canine Chemists” so before opening it I expected some pet-related gifts—treats for the dog, a scratching post for the cat, a winter rug for the horse maybe. Instead I was presented with a car cover, a deluxe heated airer, and binoculars among other what seemed to me as randomly selected items. The only thing animal-related was a heated dog bed.
A visit to Hyperdrug’s website only adds to the Huh? factor—“Electrical gifts for all the family” declared a banner. True, alongside its animal pharmacy Hyperdrug also stocks medicine for humans, but it wouldn’t be the first place I’d think of if in the market for a new hairdryer. Personally, I would have liked to see more animal-related gifts and items that that are not so commonly found in high-street chemists. Hyperdrug had the right idea with the dog bed, shame it didn't carry it through.
I also feel that Hyperdrug should have crafted its email a little more carefully to avoid flummaxing recipients . Instead of hitting inboxes with a vague “here are our offers” message, it should have gone in with something more like “did you know Hyperdrug also sells Christmas gifts? You can find them in a special section on the website, along with all your family’s healthcare needs”. As the adage goes, you need to sell the sizzle, not the steak. With so many others competing in the gifts market, why should I choose Hyperdrug?--MT
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