Originally, I was going to single out Marks
& Spencer for special mention, but a little further research proves that
they are no worse than any other supplier of cards, wrapping paper and other
festive tat, so that would probably have been unfair.
The item in the illustration is a gift tag
from M&S – specifically intended to allow you to write the name of the
recipient and a suitable message on your lovely, gift-wrapped present. The bad
news, of course, is that the tag is glossy, and there is no writing medium
which I have yet discovered which will work with it. Ballpoint, roller-ball,
gel sticks, felt tips and my beloved Sharpie pens refuse to dry properly,
and will remain smudgable for ever. Even old-fashioned fountain pen ink will
not dry – I have tried – it is like writing on a plastic bag. The ink forms
globules which cannot be blotted or blown dry. Even swearing doesn’t help. I
can see that, in the midst of all this huge, international, seasonal festival of waste, it
might be a nice idea to introduce a little re-use – I’m sure that a damp sponge
will enable the recipient to clean up their tag and send it to someone else –
the flaw in this is that, once again, the new name will not dry.
Something wrong here. The design seems to
have concentrated on appearance and market appeal – this is what our customers will
buy. The actual functional bit of the spec seems to have been dropped at some
point. Our research indicates that customers are not interested in writing on
the bloody thing.
There is more. There seems to be a great
fashion for coloured envelopes – we have sent out a lot of cards which have
envelopes in a fetching, deep cherry red. Very nice, and they set off the
overpriced stamps nicely (don’t get me started on that…), but it requires a very heavy black marker pen to address
them in such a way that the poor old mailman will be able to make out where
they are going. Something not quite right there, either.
It could be worse. A couple of Christmases
ago we had to use some envelopes which combined the worst of both these
features – they were glossy, and they were silver. Giving up on finding any
kind of pen which would make a readable mark on them, I resorted to sticking on white
labels, and addressing those. It’s a trade-off – I accepted the
reduction in aesthetic beauty in the interests of getting the greeting cards to
the intended friends and relatives. I may have no class, but I do worry about
stuff not working.
And then there was the big planning
calendar we had on the kitchen wall two years ago. Glossy paper. You couldn’t
write on it with any ease, except with
marker pens, and they soaked through to the other side of the paper. Bong!
The concept of inappropriate stationery is certainly
not new. Almost thirty years ago I was involved for a while in designing and
commissioning insurance mailshots in what – in those days – was rather
contemptuously described as “Readers’ Digest style”. Laser printers of
industrial size were still rare and very expensive, and normally ran in big
specialist sites which were booked through third parties. Around this time I
remember using the print shops of Grattan’s (in Bradford), and United Biscuits
(in Binns Road, Liverpool, next door to the old Meccano factory), but the
designers and project managers for the big print runs were a specialist
marketing company based in the Cotswolds. John, their project manager, and I
had quite a few days together, hanging around the print shops while the jobs
ran, and he told me a number of excellent tales of the lucrative and sometimes
chaotic world of marketing which he inhabited.
My favourite concerned the Sunday Times Magazine. At the
time, the STM was something of an iconic publication for the new,
upwardly-mobile classes of Thatcher’s children. Quite a number of the high
profile ads in the magazine were handled on behalf of clients by this Cotswold
firm. One week, one of their most successful regular STM advertisers requested
a last-minute change to their advert. It was a rush job, but it was a special
request from the chairman of the company, and he was prepared to pay whatever
it cost to get his hot new idea onto people’s doormats the following Sunday.
It seems that he had seen an advert in an
in-flight magazine while he had been flying home from the USA, and it was
printed in inverse configuration – i.e. white text on a black background. He
loved it. He was smitten. He wanted one. He wanted his advert to be changed to
this format – and he wanted it immediately. To blazes with the expense – the
chairman had spoken.
The design bureau ran it up, and it did, in
fact, look stunning. With a lot of overtime and sweat the Sunday Times ad was
changed, and they ran with the beautiful new advert.
Sadly, the advert – as always – featured a
clip-off corner coupon to allow the excited readers to request a quotation
and a full catalogue. Since it is almost impossible to fill in a clip-off
coupon which is printed in white-on-black, this full page, back cover advert on
the Sunday Times became the very first advert of any sort in that magazine for many
years to achieve a completely zero response.
No-one had thought of that. John reckoned,
with hindsight, that there were so many high-powered specialists involved that
they managed to overlook a problem which maybe the office cleaners might have
spotted…
They may all be employed nowadays in the Christmas card industry. Let's hope so.
They may all be employed nowadays in the Christmas card industry. Let's hope so.
Merry Christmas Foy. I look forward to another year of Prometheus in Aspic and may your pens always mark your writing surface.
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