It Ain't Easy to Breathe Easy

What's with these Web merchants, demanding everything but your grandmother's maiden name before they'll even let you look at some merchandise?

And what insane non-marketing philosophy drives Webmasters (I hate that term) or whoever constructs Web sites as impenetrable as Fort Knox to challenge us: “I dare you to come in here and look”?

My wife and I were off on one of our exotic expeditions — a train across Siberia to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, then astride Bactrian camels into the hinterlands. A fellow in my tennis group, an M.D., had a dour warning: “Mongolia? You'd better get face masks, if sand is going to blow in your face. I've seen people with permanent lung damage.”

Yikes! Permanent lung damage? There goes my seductive radio announcing voice. So off I went to Magellan's, one of my favorite sources for just about any travel items.

OK, here's just what I'm looking for. I'll order it.

Oops. “Click here to log in.” Log in? I can get into the Pentagon easier than this. I can't order an inexpensive face mask without authorization from a nasty gatekeeper. I have to enter my online name and password and tell them the city I was born in and and and. Hey, guys, I'm not ordering a Sherman tank.

Oops again. Magellan's doesn't recognize my password. Start from Ground Zero. Here's what I'm looking for, the “I Can Breathe®” mask. But trying to place an order in this maze is a day's work. After being turned away so many times I felt like Ted Kennedy at a George Bush rally, I gave up and phoned the company's toll-free number. So Question One: How many prospective customers would have done that rather than saying, “A plague on your house”? (A good filter mask would keep out the plague, wouldn't it?)

An absolutely charming young lady answered the call and explained, “There's a heavy demand for this item. We can't ship until…” — which meant unless I'd pay a huge surcharge for overnight courier, the masks wouldn't arrive until we'd left. So Question Two: Is penalizing the customer because you're temporarily out of stock on an item listed as in-stock a sound merchandising practice?

Sigh. Back to Google, and now here's the manufacturer (or so it seems) of that I Can Breathe filter mask. I called the toll-free number. “No one is here to take your call.” At 1 p.m.?

Never say die. This had become a challenge. Ah! Here's Survival Solutions, with what appears to be a similar mask at a substantially lower price. But what's this? Again I have to give them a password, just to try to order. Oh, well…that's what I did. And just as I tried to check out, the Web site kicked me out.

Google doesn't give up and neither do I. Clicking down the line, I wound up at a Web site named Gazoontite.com. Aw-riiiiiight! The name suggests happiness, doesn't it? And without suggesting I'm a suspicious character, Gazoontite quickly and efficiently processed my order for the same I Can Breathe “honeycomb carbon masks” and some replacement filters, at a gloriously reasonable price…14 cents more expensive than Magellan's but infinitely easier to order. Fine. Order placed.

Uh-oh. What's this? Here's an e-mail from Survival Solutions, “confirming” my order — the one I couldn't seem to complete — including a “UPS Next Day Air Early AM” shipping charge of $68.87. Oh, yeah? Nice trick, guys. I fired back a quick “The hell you say” e-mail and then, after sending it and realizing that some of these companies have a one-way e-mail system, phoned Survival Solutions — a toll call, by the way, to area code 801.

I explained my plight to a sympathetic young lady named Delois, who shared my merriment and said she'd handle it. Fine. Thank you, Delois.

Uh…except, five minutes later, here's an answer to my NOT-to-ship-for $68.87 e-mail. It confirms shipment…at $68.87.

And then Delois set a standard of excellence worthy of mention. About 15 minutes later, in came this e-mail: “Herschell — Thank you for calling and letting me know there was a problem with our site. I hope it is fixed now. I resubmitted your order (the first one will not even go through). So you will be charged 23.70 for the 6 gas masks, and 4.00 shipping. I will send it out today by US mail. That sounds a lot better! Thank you for your understanding. Delois.” So Survival Solutions survives on my “A”-list.

Oh, how I wish Delois were typical of phone representatives! Let's assume this whole episode turns out to be chocolate, with no permanent lung nor image damage to either side. I wasn't really worried about my lungs, because at worst I can filter my nostrils with a used Kleenex. What the heck, if it filters whatever goes out it should filter whatever goes in.

I am worried, though, about what seems to be a pandemic unpleasant trend within the ranks of online marketers, one that easily can filter down (words used advisedly) to more venerable marketing avenues. Unquestionably, vendors have to protect themselves against the many and varied unscrupulous scoundrels who populate the gutter areas of commerce. But what the heck — if the credit card is valid and the address of the cardholder is identical to the “ship to” address, why risk driving a customer away? We already have ample historical evidence that once driven away, the customer's negative attitude — like lung damage — can be permanent.

So the moral of this basically immoral tale is obvious: As painful as it may be, welcome visitors as though you're actually glad you lured them to your site. The most wonderful of all consequences can result: You'll actually get an order.

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HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS (www.herschellgordonlewis.com) is the principal of Lewis Enterprises in Fort Lauderdale, FL. He consults with and writes direct response copy for clients worldwide. His curmudgeonly titled 28th book, “Asinine Advertising,” has just been published. Among his other books are “On the Art of Writing Copy” (third edition), “Marketing Mayhem” and “Effective E-mail Marketing.”