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Impulses
at the Speed of Net
By David Smith
In
an email newsletter, I read about a great book that could answer
some questions about budgeting multimedia programs. Smartly, the
newsletter has a link directly to the book at Amazon.com. Click,
and I am reading book reviews smack dab next to Amazon's One-Click
Ordering button. See, I've been to Amazon before; they know me well
enough to let me order just by pointing. "I'll take that one."
Amazon cleverly displays other books purchased by folks who bought
the book I came to get. Within five clicks and five minutes, I buy
two other books that look helpful. I close my browser, I get on
with my day. I forget I even bought anything. Until I get the books,
then the bill. Yikes, now when did I spend that $84?
Internet time, meet my finances. Contrary to its original incarnation
as a static library of reused text and grainy images, the Web is
becoming the ultimate petri dish for the impulse purchase. Heaven
help me, but I can hand my VISA account number to a banner.
Two of the features invoked to describe the Internet's boon to mankind
- convenience and worldwide reach - make it an insidious predator,
able to find me at my most vulnerable moments. For example, it's
late the night before Mother's Day and the 1-800-FLOWERS Web site
is up-selling me from the tasteful $34.95 flower basket to the $79.95
potted plant. I am feeling just guilty enough to go for it. On Mothers'
Day two years ago, I simply called her in the morning - "All
I really need is to hear your voice, honey" - and then contacted
the florist on Monday when my shame had passed and my natural stinginess
was back in control.
As more (*oxymoron alert*) marketing geniuses put their shoulders
into online commerce, it's only going to be worse for people like
me. I peer with foreboding on the Impulse! Buy Network, a merchandising
company that is bent on bringing online the concepts of sales circulars,
end-caps, point-of-purchase displays and sales racks.
As reported in the ICONOCAST newsletter, Impulse! Buy Network has
developed a banner ("barker") that spotlights rotating
deals from participating e-merchants. "When users click on
a barker, they're transported to a rack where they can ogle the
merchandise. The rack not only lists deals, but users can see offerings
'tick down' in price according to pre-set parameters. From there,
they can either make the purchase or store the information to return
later. Once they're finished, Impulse! Buy Network drops them back
to their site." Drops them back, indeed. I picture myself lying
prone, spent in more ways than one, the proud recipient of a "South
Park" letterman's jacket, not to mention a member of a very
happy credit card company.
It isn't a stretch to picture myself in six months huddled with
my iMac for a few hours, paying the Oak Grove Water District, trading
penny shares of Netscape, buying fresh jockey shorts, ordering corn
dogs and hummus from the Safeway, downloading a new Pat Boone reggae
clip for 50 cents, joining the Portland Rockies fan club and painlessly
tapping out a dozen other transactions large and small. I wouldn't
touch a dollar bill or even plastic. Each eager merchant would know
who I am, what I like, what they can make me like, and those 16
magic digits that preside over my MasterCard statement.
Even the institution most dependent on my money threatens me with
fast, convenient online service. According to the Online Banking
Report, 5 percent of the American population is already doing some
form of online banking, and 21 percent will be by the end of 2001.
Today, I can ask an online bank to automatically pay certain bills
when they arrive or on an established schedule. The payments would
all magically appear in my on-screen check register (which is real
hard to whip out at Toys-R-Us). This terrifies me.
I don't know about you, but the routine of paper-based home accounting
gives me the pause to consider my economic habits. Sitting at my
kitchen table late at night under a hot, naked bulb, writing and
tearing checks, adding with my ancient TI calculator, cutting my
fingers on crisp envelopes, tasting their horrid glue, popping 32
cents out of my nest egg again and again for the chance to deliver
money to my creditors - these all give me the time and proper state
of mind to consider how much I am spending and why. Perhaps, if
I computerized it all, I would simply get the bad news more quickly
or in an attractive font. But the angst and accompanying physical
discomfort have a tangible effect on my inclination to spend.
Internet time is best applied to news, the whims of my clients and
dancing baby videos, things I need to know about as soon as possible.
Call me old-fashioned, but I think some things shouldn't be rushed,
including a good scratch and the march to bankruptcy. The depressing
state of my checkbook, now that's something I can wait for.
Resources:
1-800-Flowers
Amazon.Com
Impulse! Buy Network
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