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David Spates I prefer my stirrups to be ad-free I work in an advertising-driven business,
so I shall tread lightly today. Well, lighter, anyway. Advertising is the spark plug of the capitalist
engine. Without advertising, the marketplace comes to a halt.
Sellers would have no way to show off their goodies, and buyers
would have no idea what goodies are out there. Does advertising work? Of course it does.
People who advertise in the Chronicle pay good money to do so,
and you can be sure they wouldn't pay the bills we send them
if they didn't feel as though they were getting their money's
worth. If advertising didn't work, why would a business spend
millions for a 30-second commercial during the Super Bowl? Now that I've placed advertising on the same
nationalistic pedestal as Mom, apple pie and the loyalty of a
fine dog, I've got to say that advertisers often go too far in
finding new and more attractive ways to promote whatever it is
they're selling. Case in point: Last week my pregnant wife,
Shelia, and I went to the gynecologist's office for her four-month
ultrasound. (The baby is fine, thanks for asking. If you're really
bored, you can check out pictures of the diminutive Spates fetus
at members.aol.com/davespates/spateschild.html.
Don't you just hate it when parents push pictures of their kids
in your face? Well, now I'm part of the problem.) Anyway, we walk into the ultrasound room and
there's the table where the woman lies, and like all gynecologist
tables it has stirrups. As I sit in a chair next to the table
waiting for the show to start, I notice that the stirrups are
topped with little felt coverings. On the felt coverings are,
you guessed it, advertisements. I certainly appreciate clever
and out-of-the-box thinking as much as the next guy, but does
every few spare square inches of space need to be used for advertising?
Is gynecological stirrup advertising really that effective? Have
marketing studies shown that gynecological stirrup advertising
works well with women in demographic test groups? The stirrup covers featured an ad for Terazol,
a drug, my live-in pharmacist tells me, used to treat female-oriented
infections. (If you want any more details, go ask your doctor
or pharmacist. That's as far as I'm going with that.) The stirrup covers are there, I'm told again,
so that the patient doesn't get that shock of cold metal against
warm skin. No doubt it's uncomfortable enough to have your feet
in stirrups half-dressed at 8 in the morning with the doctor
reminding you to relax, but throw icy-cold stainless steel into
the equation and I certainly understand where stirrup cozies
would come in handy. I'm sure the good folks who make Terazol provided
the ad-laden stirrup covers free of charge to the doctors. And
why not? Like real estate, the key to advertising is location,
location, location. Talk about a captive audience. I don't begrudge manufacturers and sellers
their ads. On the contrary. Without advertising, I'd be out of
a job, you'd have no Crossville Chronicle to read, and there
would be no reason in the world I'd be typing this sentence right
now. I would ask, however, that a little more discretion be used when plastering product names in every nook and cranny. You can have the crannies, but leave some of those nooks alone. If you want to advertise, we have a whole office full of people who can help you out. Advertising on stirrup cozies seems a little ridiculous. I prefer my stirrup cozies unadulterated, thank you. |