Unmarketing...

My family just got back from a weeklong vacation in the middle of
nowhere.

Actually, our cottage was in the middle of alot of things, but was
surrounded by thousands of acres of nothing -- the Kickapoo
Wilderness Reserve in Southwestern Wisconsin.

I'm now well-rested and a little more educated for my adventure.

One of the things I discovered about the smaller towns and cities
around us was that they do marketing a little differently. I'll call it
"unmarketing".

For instance, we visited Wilton, Wisconsin, the heart of the famous
Elroy-Sparta trail, the first rails to trails path in the U.S. It was
"Wood Tick Days" in town, so we stopped at a shop called Almosta
Store.

The shop was having a "My Wife's Away Sale". The shop owner
encouraged us to grab anything we like and he'd give us a deal on
it -- as long as his wife didn't get back first. Then he just chatted
with us. He didn't try to sell us anything. He even had a table with
free stuff on it he was giving away. Without the typical hype and
pressure, shopping was more fun. We didn't feel we needed to keep
our defenses up.

His wife appeared after a few moments, but he promised to honor
any prices he had given us. We picked up a Father-Son set of
"BITE ME - Wilton Wood Tick Days" T-Shirts and left smiling.

I don't often feel the same way shopping here in Chicago.

Why? We trained salespeople to ask for the sale. In fact we've taught
them to almost pester the customer demanding the sale. It puts a
customer's defenses up and increases resistance.

The same is true for the advertising techniques that scream at us
with loud colors, busy designs and "act now" offers.

Good advertising doesn't push you, it nudges you. Sometimes it
just moves you with a laugh or a tear. It's as real and sincere as
your best salesman.

So the next time you're in Wilton, Wisconsin (pop. 574) stop in the
Almosta Store for a lesson in marketing and walk across the street
to Gina's Pies Are Square for some good food and a lesson in
merchandising. But I'll cover that another time

-Phil Sasso