The Fable of the Inflatable Marketer

This is a story about direct mail and money, designed to educate and entertain. The reader has my guarantee that every single word in it is absolutely true.

Once there was a broker — a bright, energetic young man, possessed of all the virtues a broker should have…except a confidence in his own ability to do really sophisticated list recommendations.

He regretted that, when recommending a truly large merchandise list with lots of segments, the best thing he could come up with was “Three-month hotline, female.” Couldn't the mailer think of that himself? Was that all he was good for — standard, everyday “three-month hotline, gender select” recommendations? He longed for the ability to talk marketing, real marketing, with his clients. Surely they would take notice of him, plying him with so much business that he would become rich and his clients richer.

One day, while shopping at The Sharper Image, he saw an inflatable mannequin on sale for $69.95. Next to the mannequin was a sign: “He listens, he learns. This mannequin, with proper training, will become brilliant in any field you wish. Was $89.95.”

The mannequin attracted our hero because he looked so much like Dr. Goldschlag, the broker's eighth-grade mathematics teacher. Sharper Image had given him a Freudian beard, fake dandruff — and, as it claimed in the promotional literature, a live brain (taken no doubt from a Republican who would never miss it) had been transplanted into his body. And all this for $69.95! Truly unbelievable.

The broker purchased “Dr. Goldschlag,” brought him home and set him up in his closet. He bought a copy of Bob Stone's book on direct marketing and read from this book to the mannequin every night.

Goldschlag proved to be a quick study. He rapidly worked his way through the test-and-continuation scenarios, and soon got around to asking questions of his mentor that were extremely important to all brokers and managers: Do most clients have the money to pay for their mailings? (That was a biggie.) Are you the only broker on a standard mailing campaign project, or is it common for some mailer to accept orders from every would-be mule driver who claimed to have a terrific list? Why are SCFs called SCFs? Why not three-digit ZIPs?

And then, one day, Goldschlag reached out from the depths of his growing intellect and desire to learn, to ask a question that convinced the broker that the mannequin was really making progress: When the mailer did a merge/purge, were the dups picked on a priority basis or allocated to the list with the lowest minimum guarantee?

At this point, our broker swelled to the possibilities. If the mannequin could work his way through computer maintenance house processes, he could do anything.

Multiple regression analysis became his specialty. And since his broker/owner knew next to nothing about analytical processes, the mannequin sounded good. Was this not like real-life situations, where sophisticated analysts speak in a form of gobbledygook which sounds like Euclidian mathematics but is really an imitation of Sid Caesar doing his Russian-language routine?

After a few months of training using Bob Stone's book — alternating with serious talks about the merits of various Barbie dolls — the mannequin was ready for his first test.

A client had called him that morning with a serious problem. This mailer had tested the Fingerhooter list through other, competitive brokers on no less than 20 different occasions, and had not been able to make the list work. Now the mailer was turning to our hero, giving him the opportunity of which he had dreamed for such a long time.

The Fingerhooter list had a monthly hotline of 1.5 million customers who'd bought everything imaginable, from glassware to sporting goods. Its unit of sale was nightmarishly wide — a range of $6.95 to $338.54. Fingerhooter sold by catalog, solo mail, inserts and e-mail.

The recommendation for list testing was due in just a few days. Excitedly, the broker rushed home to Goldschlag. “It's time for you to justify the hours and hours of education I have given you,” he said.

Goldschlag nodded. “I will be ready,” he said, his face impassive as usual.

A few days later, our broker opened his closet door. Goldschlag was ready. “I recommend the following,” he said.

• First, a multiple regression analysis of the entire file, broken down by recency.

• Second, for the characteristics which had finished at 80% of break-even, a matrix of 86 cells, broken down by product, unit of sale, marketing vehicle, age and income (the last two involving demographic overlays).

• Third, when these steps were finished, the surviving cells should be broken down by gender and the process should be completely repeated as a check to results.

“You're out of your mind,” screamed the list broker. “Do you realize how much it'll cost to carry this out? Thousands and thousands of dollars!”

The mannequin looked thoughtful. “I had no idea that dollar outlay was a factor in direct mail. Bob Stone never mentions this in his excellent book. Is it a factor?”

“Of course it is!” exclaimed the broker. “Mailers always have to look out for costs — particularly the hidden costs of marketing analysis.”

Well…” the mannequin replied thoughtfully. “In that case…”

“Yes? Yes?” sputtered the broker.

“In that case,” said Goldschlag, “I recommend…three-month hotline, female.”

Is not the moral of this story that money talks, but statistics murmur?