2008 Woodie Awards
Not buying it
Feature Editorial
Amanda Krupman
Issue date: 10/2/06 Section: Opinions
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Page 1 of 1
"Hi! Are you feeling friendly and non-violent today?"
"...Uh...I...suppose...?"
"Great! Well, you're definitely cute, definitely adorable, and I just wanted to talk to you for a second. Do you mind-great! Well, I'm just talking to people on campus as part of a communications contest I'm in where if I win 20,000 personality points I can win a trip to Acapulco, London, or Paris. You been? No, I'm not a student. I work for CSA. Cash Scholarship Association. You like magazines? Wait-where are you going? Have I offended you? Okay, okay. Well, hey, honey, if there's a Mr. Lucky, just don't tell him there's a Mr. Jealous, 'kay?"
And so went the inexplicably bad, convoluted sales pitch from a college-aged dude with bad skin and a baseball cap outside of Stevenson Hall. No one else was around to deflect his attention, as it was quarter after 2 and class was in session. I had seen the guy approaching with an unnaturally wide smile. I had just sat down to listen to a phone message, and thought the phone might dissuade him from continuing his pace toward me, ever forward, ever smiling, ever oblivious. But no. I still don't know what he was trying to sell me (Nonviolence? "Harper's Weekly"?) but the episode makes for a colorful example of the multiple noxious marketing campaigns that target the east side of campus.
Marketing to the college demographic has become a standard in firms all over the country. The Boston Globe reported in an article last year that "youth marketing firms" employ tens of thousands of students as "campus ambassadors," selling their peers products and even attempting to get newspaper reporters to mention products in their articles. Companies like Mr. Youth, a college student marketing firm in New York, are hired by corporations that want to reach younger consumers. These firms claim to utilize fresh techniques in advertising their products.
I've got to say it, people: we can do better than stand in line for free bumper stickers at some new chewing gum manufacturer's tent in the quad. Honestly, many of the people I see in line look a bit confused as to what awaits them. Perhaps they got in line just because they figured it had to be there for good reason? Personally, I try to avoid any lines not absolutely necessary for food, clothing, and injections required by the board of public health. But I suppose the promise of a marketing intern from the Coca-Cola corporation squeezing fresh lemonade into a Dasani cup while blasting Beastie Boys out of a boom-box is worth the wait for some.
But...really? Do we need this stuff? We're attending a public university in one of the biggest metropolitan cities in the country. We've got a big world out there of shopping options and commercial amusements. Imagine if SCE was cleared of all peddlers and crap-pushers and we just had student organizations and coffee (necessary by all means). I wouldn't have to throw out elbows to get past the crowds. I wouldn't be forced to barrel my way through those of you languorously sorting through Che Guevara and pot leaf posters. What I'm saying here, friends, is that innocent people will no longer have to be hurt.
Next week, let's try something new. Don't stand in line for anything other than coffee, bagels or overpriced notebooks and planners from the bookstore. Deny Mr. Youth its demographic and take the word savvy back from ad executives.
- Page 1 of 1
"...Uh...I...suppose...?"
"Great! Well, you're definitely cute, definitely adorable, and I just wanted to talk to you for a second. Do you mind-great! Well, I'm just talking to people on campus as part of a communications contest I'm in where if I win 20,000 personality points I can win a trip to Acapulco, London, or Paris. You been? No, I'm not a student. I work for CSA. Cash Scholarship Association. You like magazines? Wait-where are you going? Have I offended you? Okay, okay. Well, hey, honey, if there's a Mr. Lucky, just don't tell him there's a Mr. Jealous, 'kay?"
And so went the inexplicably bad, convoluted sales pitch from a college-aged dude with bad skin and a baseball cap outside of Stevenson Hall. No one else was around to deflect his attention, as it was quarter after 2 and class was in session. I had seen the guy approaching with an unnaturally wide smile. I had just sat down to listen to a phone message, and thought the phone might dissuade him from continuing his pace toward me, ever forward, ever smiling, ever oblivious. But no. I still don't know what he was trying to sell me (Nonviolence? "Harper's Weekly"?) but the episode makes for a colorful example of the multiple noxious marketing campaigns that target the east side of campus.
Marketing to the college demographic has become a standard in firms all over the country. The Boston Globe reported in an article last year that "youth marketing firms" employ tens of thousands of students as "campus ambassadors," selling their peers products and even attempting to get newspaper reporters to mention products in their articles. Companies like Mr. Youth, a college student marketing firm in New York, are hired by corporations that want to reach younger consumers. These firms claim to utilize fresh techniques in advertising their products.
I've got to say it, people: we can do better than stand in line for free bumper stickers at some new chewing gum manufacturer's tent in the quad. Honestly, many of the people I see in line look a bit confused as to what awaits them. Perhaps they got in line just because they figured it had to be there for good reason? Personally, I try to avoid any lines not absolutely necessary for food, clothing, and injections required by the board of public health. But I suppose the promise of a marketing intern from the Coca-Cola corporation squeezing fresh lemonade into a Dasani cup while blasting Beastie Boys out of a boom-box is worth the wait for some.
But...really? Do we need this stuff? We're attending a public university in one of the biggest metropolitan cities in the country. We've got a big world out there of shopping options and commercial amusements. Imagine if SCE was cleared of all peddlers and crap-pushers and we just had student organizations and coffee (necessary by all means). I wouldn't have to throw out elbows to get past the crowds. I wouldn't be forced to barrel my way through those of you languorously sorting through Che Guevara and pot leaf posters. What I'm saying here, friends, is that innocent people will no longer have to be hurt.
Next week, let's try something new. Don't stand in line for anything other than coffee, bagels or overpriced notebooks and planners from the bookstore. Deny Mr. Youth its demographic and take the word savvy back from ad executives.
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