Ding dong. Sunday evening.
I open the door to a well dressed and polite young man, asking for a moment of my time.
Now for many of you this would be an annoyance, but as a marketing professional I get a lot of pleasure out of observing marketing. I’m the girl who turns UP the commercials, who checks out the new branding on the Pepsi can with wonder, and who gets a twisted pleasure from door-to-door sales. It’s like watching a car wreck. You can’t look away. Anyway, I’m digressing.
So the young man launches into his beautifully memorized script. Would I like to receive the Toronto Star at my door for two months absolutely free with no obligation? Sure, why not? I read it online everyday and there’s nothing like a physical paper to pore over with a morning coffee. I happily fill in my details and delivery instructions (mailbox or steps? – nice touch Star.)
But wait!
To receive this special free offer, all they ask is that I pay the price of the weekend editions for the duration of the free trial. Just $36 for 2 months! Well now I’m annoyed. I thought that I had just said yes to two months of free Toronto Star, but $36 does not sound like “absolutely free”. (Don’t worry, I’m getting to what this has to do with economic development…)
Fine, whatever. I want this kid off my doorstep because he is going on and on about how this earns him points for the Star to help pay for his imminent commencement of medical school. Why is this charming pre-med student peddling shady newspaper subscriptions on a Sunday night?… hmmm. Whatever. Here’s a cheque. Give me my two months and be gone.
But wait!
All I need to do is just sign this itty bitty form, and as I am trying to read the fine print, he deliberately starts asking me lots of distracting questions. Did I go to university? What did I study? Annoyed further, I realize what I am being asked to sign in order to receive my absolutely free, no obligation two months of the Toronto Star is a payment pre-authorization.
HANG ON THERE STAR.
“Wait,” I say. “You specifically said delivery would stop after two months and I would have to call them if I wanted to continue. This says I’m pre-authorizing continued payments. There’s no way I’m signing this.” He shifts around a bit. “Oh, I never read that part of the form.” says the astute pre-med student. “Ah. Well I’m not signing it, and I’m ripping everything up.” He asks if he can call his boss for me. No. But he won’t get his points to go to med school!!! Oh well. See ya pre-med!
The thing is, I don’t blame the kid at all. The script was beautiful really. Hook me in. Throw in a catch. Pull me further. Here’s another catch. Hope I don’t read the fine print…
Pretty despicable practices for a major daily don’t you think? And that is why this morning I felt great satisfaction deleting my Toronto Star bookmark, and my firm decision to never, ever read another story from the paper again.
So what is the lesson for economic development?
Don’t pretend your city is something it isn’t and hope you’ll get a business or a site selector in deep enough before they realize the truth. It will surely backfire. Of course you should play up your strengths and what makes you different, but be upfront about what you are and stand by it. Put the real offer on the table at the start, so your prospects don’t feel as cheated as I did when I found out the real deal. Let them make an informed decision, treat them fairly, and maybe there will be a match. At least you won’t have burned a bridge if it doesn’t work out this time around.