Thursday, 29 April 2010

Inconsiderate Marketing

I received a piece of e-mail marketing today from Gardening Direct.  I have no idea whether I’ve used the company before or whether they’ve bought my contact details from someone.

The subsidiary sending the e-mail was Jersey Bedding Plants and the subject of the e-mail was “Impatiens for less than 6p each!”  For those unfamiliar with the Latin names for plants this can be translated as “Bizzie Lizzies for less than 6p each!”  For those who haven’t a green finger at all on their person this can be translated as “Colourful flowers for less than 6p each!”

I haven’t planted any bedding plants this year and, even though I was tidying up the ridiculous amount of marketing e-mail I receive, I opened the e-mail and became a statistic for “Open rate.”

As I scrolled down the e-mail I saw this:


I was furious.  I was insulted.  I was incandescent with rage.  OK that maybe over-calling it but I do like the word incandescent.

You might wonder why I had such a strong reaction. 

I was annoyed, not because I don’t have a mother, but because Mother’s Day was in MARCH.

How dare they send me a piece of marketing that hasn’t been checked properly?

This isn’t a tiny typo error, it’s a big pink banner!

I wanted to point out the error to someone so I hit reply knowing that the e-mail probably wouldn’t go back to its source.

So I clicked on the big pink banner to see whether it linked to current content or a website error page.  It worked so I found the Contact Us button and wrote another e-mail, this time to an e-mail address that should have worked.  But it didn’t.

So, because Gardening Direct, their subsidiary Jersey Bedding Plants and the company behind the big pink banner, Flying Flowers, have insulted me with their careless marketing, and don’t even have the good grace to allow me to complain via e-mail, their chosen method of communicating with me, I have shared my pain with you.

Rant over.  Thank you.  I feel better now.

Friday, 16 April 2010

How, when, why?

I drove past something that looked very much like this today.

speed camera

And my first thought was, how do they do that?  I mean is it a blowtorch, a welding thingy, a firework or Semtex?

And my next thought was, when do they do that?  I mean I’m guessing the culprit has been caught by the camera.

If you know the camera flashed and you think that will result in a ticket then do you wait, or do you just get angry and take it out on the camera anyway? 

Do you get the ticket and react or do you contest the ticket and lose your appeal before you resort to vandalism?

And my final thought was, why do they do that?  I mean what does it achieve?

If it’s revenge then it’s short-lived and actually comes back to you because taxes pay for the replacement.  If it’s protection from being caught again then it’s only a temporary solution because at some point it will be fixed.

I did wonder whether people believe that immediate arson would destroy the evidence, which is an interesting thought.  Are they really cameras that store the images in the yellow box or have they developed a system where the images can be transmitted or collected remotely?

If you’ve ever destroyed a Gatso then please tell me how, when and why.

Friday, 2 April 2010


I really shouldn’t bother should I?

This evening my husband asked me “Can I get you anything?”

I was in a grumpy mood.  The day before a holiday, when one is trying to remember to pack everything, holiday clothes don’t fit, the swimsuit has experienced Lycra fail and the travel-sized shampoo and conditioner that were bought specially have magically disappeared, is just a tad stressful.

“Chocolate pudding in a mug, please” was my surly reply.

“Where will I find the recipe?”

“There should be one printed in the binder downstairs.”

A bit later…”No, it’s not there.  Is it on your blog?”

“Yes, hang on I’ll print it.”

A little later after the printer failed to engage it’s electronic brain…

“What’s your blog address?  I’ll just look it up.  What is it?” Looking over my shoulder “Ann Cardus dot blogspot dot com.”

“You know what, forget it.  I’ll just have a bottle or two of wine.”

If my husband had a blog I would subscribe to it.  I’d read it.  I’d know where to find it.  I’d know the url.

That’s all I’m saying.