Marketing's Future

There’s been a lot of media coverage recently on the state of marketing, especially in the digital world. Given all the data we mostly volunteer to turn over to marketers and advertisers, plus the data we are unaware are being collected about us, it’s not hard to accept the idea that commercial messages are being aimed at us in finer, more pinpointed detail. Thus, parents of newborns are inundated with coupons and promotions for baby food, toys, diapers and all the assorted paraphernalia that turn a once orderly home into a zone seemingly ravaged by a tornado.

It’s easy to comprehend how we are being singled out for email messages and direct mail campaigns. The NY Times recently ran an article focusing on how Target Stores mines data to relay come-ons to customers (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/19/magazine/shopping-habits.html?_r=1&ref=targetcorporation).

But so far, at least to my knowledge, our ability to fend off person-specific advertisements on our television screens has not been challenged. I believe in the next five to ten years, however, our defenses will be breached. Here’s how it will work:

Televisions increasingly are becoming inter-active. There have been test markets where viewers can order clothing and other items they see on TV shows, and I’m not talking about HSN or QVC. I mean, if you see a dress you like worn by Julianna Margulies on The Good Wife, you can click a few buttons on your TV remote and order it from, say, Nordstrom.

The next step in the marketers’ assault on “free” TV will demand we watch commercials. It will begin with the blockbuster shows, like Sunday’s upcoming Oscars telecast, and the Super Bowl, the Grammy Awards, the Tony Awards, the World Series. Each time there is a commercial break, you will have a choice of three ads to view. You choose your poison. Choose you must, or the show will not proceed, on your TV. It will be on permanent pause until you watch a commercial of your choice.

This competition for eyeballs will force marketers to upgrade the quality of their ads. Madison Avenue does not want you clicking on someone else’s creative. Moreover, it can be assumed that most of those who view an ad would be interested in the product or service featured, unlike today’s format that cannot guarantee anyone is. Commercials often are the time people retreat into the kitchen for a snack or go to the bathroom. They’ll still be able to do so, but when they return to couch-potato status they’ll have to engage a commercial to forward the action on the TV screen.

Networks will charge fees based on the number of impressions each commercial generates.

Please don’t say this idea is too technically advanced to occur. If you’ve been alive for any of the last 50 years you should not doubt the ability of computer wizards to map out this format and deliver it to your doorstep, er, I mean the cable-ready TV in your den. Once we get acclimated to this concept when watching the big shows, it’s a mere hop, skip and jump to everyday fare, except on premium stations like HBO and Showtime.

Oh, one more thing. Don’t think you’ll beat the system by taping shows for later viewing on your DVR. Those same computer wizards will figure out a way to prevent you from zipping through commercials.

Bottom line: Enjoy TV as we know it now for it will be forever changed by 2022.

TV of the 60s

Mad Men, the AMC TV series centered around an early 1960s Madison Avenue advertising agency, is widely praised for its spot-on depiction of the era’s mores, current and changing. The show’s attention to detail, at least for those of us who lived through that time, is uncanny. Aside from being old enough to enjoy that perspective, I can personally validate the sartorial eye of costume designer Janie Bryant’s selections, at least for the male cast members.

It went by in a flash during Sunday night’s episode about the ad agency’s Christmas party. Buxom redhead Joan walked into the party. I immediately hit the pause and rewind buttons. There, unable to take his eyes off her, was the agency’s young art director wearing a burgundy tuxedo jacket with vertical and horizontal black stripes. That was my Bar-Mitzvah jacket!

How did Janie Bryant find that jacket? Did she secretly visit my house and look through my Bar-Mitzvah album? Of course she didn’t. Besides, my album is in black and white. How would she have known the jacket was burgundy?

Just one more reason I am a big fan of Mad Men...


Federal Offense: Mitch Miller died Saturday. He was 99, considered by many a genius of music, and by others an old fogy of music (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/03/arts/music/03miller.html?_r=1&hpw). I will always remember him as the cause of one of my biggest arguments with my brother and father.

Sing Along with Mitch aired on NBC between 1961 and 1964. My father and older brother Bernie really enjoyed that show. I, on the other hand, preferred ABC’s counter-programming—The Untouchables. Since we had but one TV in our pre-VCR or DVR home, someone was going to be disappointed each week.

One particular week I was not to be denied. I screamed and yelled and cried (hey, I wasn’t even a teenager at the time of this story, so cut me some slack, willya). I made enough noise to drown out any hopes Bernie and our father had to enjoy the gang singing along with Mitch. Of course, by the time they finally gave in, Eliot Ness was already deep into his crime-fighting episode. Frank Nitti could have already been arrested, or better yet, machine gunned, by the time I was able to switch the TV to Channel 7.

Our confrontations lasted through The Untouchables’ last season in 1963. After that, we all watched the bouncing ball above the words on the screen and sang along with Mitch. Who knew Mitch was training a generation of karaoke singers?


Mom Says It Best: In this case, it’s Finley’s mother, Allison.

“Fathers, Lock Up Your Daughters, Because Finley’s on the Move,” she reported in a weekend post of her blog, Http://findingfinley.blogspot.com. Our 8-1/2 month old grandson is officially crawling. Here’s proof: http://findingfinley.blogspot.com/2010/08/and-away-he-goes.html.