Buyer (and seller) beware
There’s a British idiom, “Suck it and see,” the epitome
of skepticism, which despite its coarse brevity could
well replace whole libraries of posh philosophic big-talk about the fabric of reality. A less aggressive version is
“Show me, I’m from Missouri,” which requires the proper
Southern Mizoorah drawl for maximum impact. Wherever you’re from, the message is one of eternal vigilance
in the face of fancy claims. Advertising, the creation and
pushing forth of fancy claims, predates human literacy,
and its success is evident in many rampant domains
ranging from religion and astrology to sugared water, pet
rocks, and Java (only joking there, James).
From the serpent’s cunning loss-leader fruit promotion
in Eden (hurry, this offer ends soon) has grown a major
industry, the dynamo of consumerism, winning both
West and East. Ironically, there are warnings of evil in the
very etymology (Latin adversus) and even stronger revelations in Vance Packard’s The Hidden Persuaders (1957). It’s
still referred to generically as Madison Avenue, although
the special talent needed to bamboozle, or in euphemistic
ad-speak, “motivate,” buyers is quite evenly distributed
around the globe.
My immediate agenda, though, is to spread the blame
between “seller” and “sold” in Packard’s tales of greed
and exploitation. No amount of caveat emptor (buyer
beware) crusading seems able to rein in HomSap’s infinite
gullibility. The sucker birthrate increases daily, a potential
refutation of Darwinian Dawkinsism. The various failed
anti-consumerism campaigns lack the finely honed persuasions of the Madison Avenue “enemy.” Can you spot
the paradox: anti-ad ads? I propose, “Buy Two Caveat
Emptor Banners, Get One Free!” Not quite as compelling
as “Make your Armpits into Charmpits!”
HARD SELLING SOF T WARE.
HAVE I GOT THE ALGORI THM FOR YOU!
The marketing ploys revealed by Packard revolved around
the idea that people don’t buy things. They buy the
related intangible dreams: satisfaction, self-esteem, and
social success. The ads must disguise the objects accord-
AFFINE ROMANCE
Stan Kelly-Bootle, Author
ingly, so that cars mean freedom and sex appeal. What’s
the equivalent in selling computer hardware and software? Much has changed, of course, since the mainframe
days of yore. When I was marketeering for IBM in the
1950s, the T. J. Watson credo reversed the traditional
direction of selling-buying. The onus was on potential
buyers to prove their worthiness to own a piece of sublime Big Blue. 1 Some of you may remember the prevailing
“rule” that nobody could be blamed for installing (that is
to say, being approved by) IBM rather than Univac—even
if things went badly wrong.
As computer prices dropped and competition
increased, old-fashioned selling and advertising returned.
The current talisman is that those look-alike commodity platforms are touted as solutions. The problems may
be ill-defined, possibly nonexistent, but who can resist
solutions Indeed, the solution now precedes the problem.
The hardware can be jazzed up color-wise, reaching the
point where people pay extra to have their MacBooks
robed in Hamlet Black, a bizarre twist on the Henry Ford
Model T’s singular choice of paint jobs.
Of course, computer hardware is truly “general purpose” (see any book on Turing machines), so the promised solutions come in the form of operating systems,
compilers, and applications. These invisible, unglamorous bit-strings, either pre-embedded or post-loaded
from boxed disks, are what distinguishes the products as
problem solvers.
The ad writers therefore need to extol the virtues of
what must remain to most buyers rather mysterious,
intangible entities. One might add, semi-cynically, that
how these diverse bit-strings manage to interoperate with
reasonable predictability is itself a major mystery to those
who have strung the bits together. So, we find the ads
claiming advantages that may strain the legal bounds of
honesty. In the hierarchy of fibbing, also called the ISO
Mendacity Sequence, we have lies, damned lies, statistics,
damned statistics, benchmarks, delivery promises, and
ACM Curmudgeon columnies. 2