Websites that sell products are sneaky sometimes. Some use interesting marketing strategies and psychological tricks to get people to buy what they offer. The site isn’t just commending its own product and pitching a sale; it’s grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you until your teeth rattle, and desperately insisting that you need this product or the sky will fall in.
Harry and I are often interested in new things on the market (or rather, I am. I’m interested in many things). Is this a good product, we ask. Would it be helpful? Should we consider buying it? Does our business need it? (I answer yes to all of those questions immediately. I like new things, and I like to buy new things. Harry tends to cross his arms, muttering about “needs” versus “wants”.)
I know all about needs. I need the facts. If I have presentable arguments as to why we should invest in something, Harry will listen to those reasons for purchasing and possibly cave. So, off I go to discover all the reasons we must have an item and its benefit to our business. (I thrive on research. Harry doesn’t).
What happens?
A pop-up flashes in my face. Another slides down my screen and thuds on the bottom of my monitor. Bright lights, glaring red fonts, big text, and lots of exclamation marks scream at me. There are pictures of people I don’t know, telling me how XYZ product changed their life. I wade through all the reasons why I should buy this product, the benefits, the time-limited warnings, the specials and discounts, still searching for solid information fruitlessly.
I want to know what the product does, specifically. What are its core features? And most importantly, what does it cost? But I can’t find that information. I’m still on stimulation overload from the site itself, squinting to try and read huge, brightly colored text. I’m sure concrete information can be found on the site somewhere … I just can’t see it. It’s hiding or lost amongst testimonials I don’t care about.
I absolutely *hate* rah-rah cheerleading websites.
I stumbled on an interesting article by Max Harrold that ran in the Montreal Gazette of March 31. “Who motivates you,” the title reads.
The article quotes Marc Andre Morel, a motivational speaker, who claims that English Canadians and Americans tend to respond to motivational tactics such as pure cheerleading and rah-rah.
That’s made me sit back and think. Culture and perception go hand in hand in site appeal. Others might prefer the sites I hate based on cultural difference. The same goes for copy. It’s all subjective.
Of course, this isn’t anything new to me, and individual preference or what appeals to others is always in the back of my mind. I have to know these things to do my job. But it’s interesting to be reminded of the facets, nonetheless.
I even mention the article to Harry as a bit of an experiment. He’s American, I’m Quebecois. We should be able to prove what the article claims, no? I can’t stand the sight of that sales pitch site that drives my visual senses nuts with all its cheerleading. Harry should like it, according to Morel and the article.
I think Harry’s broken. There’s something wrong with him. When I pulled up the flash-and-bling website screaming, “BUY ME NOW,” Harry winced – the same way I did – and flatly stated he hated sites like that – just as I do.
Oh well. So much for cultural differences.
