Hands-down, the best local commercial ever is Dave Sinclair’s. I can remember watching the same ad since I was a kid. And if I existed in a previous life, I’m certain that even back then, Dave Sinclair thanked me and gave me his address. Don’t you wish that all commercials could have this one-shot simplicity; this direct, look-the-customer-in-the-eye approach? It takes the hot air out of advertising. To even call it a campaign is like calling the Humane Society a pet store. If anybody else tried the Sinclair approach, not only would the attempt fail in the persuasion department, it would be as dull as house-paint on an automobile. Can you imagine Becky, the “Queen of Carpet,” standing behind a podium? No, Becky flies. There’s something oddly surreal about her royalty-gone-wild concept. I can’t help but pay attention to Becky’s voice, but I never absorb exactly what’s she’s saying –little things like what carpet is on sale that week. And there’s just enough irony in her ads where you realize that Becky knows she’s in a bad local commercial, but at the very same time she doesn’t completely know. Actually, I think Becky is one step ahead of us. The audacity of her concept has been known to leave people rolling on the floor --and in the process, inevitably discovering they could use a new carpet. Another retail legend is Denny Boyd of the Bedroom Store. I’m sure Denny sells some incredible beds, but why does he think people will take his earnest approach at face value? In one spot, he pops in just to tell us that he hopes we “slept well, St. Louis.” On the one hand, you can appreciate his concern; on the other it seems disingenuous. Why would Denny hope that everybody slept well? Who would be left to buy his beds? A commercial I actually like is the spot for Weekends Only; it gives new meaning to “negative advertising.” “It’s Tuesday,” the guy in the commercial announces. “We’re closed.” He yanks a string and turns off the store light. Modified to be shown on other weekdays, too, it’s a clever campaign that’s ideally taken in context. There’s one commercial I can’t seem to escape, though – and I think it’s the price I pay for being a night owl. For years it’s been exactly the same ad, so I assume it’s pretty effective. Two guys, very casually dressed and not necessarily camera-ready, appear on a darkly lit set (I think there’s a ladder in there somewhere), stepping forward in a way that seems meticulously blocked; yet they’re still out of sync for that one forward step. The men take turns speaking at the camera to tell us – in a way that presumes incredulity -- that trucking school “only has to cost 10 grand.” Now, I know very little about trucking and the requisite training, but I wonder exactly how many people are sitting awake at this wee hour, going, “Did you hear that? Only 10 grand? How on earth can they do that? Trucking school for 10 grand?” It seems to me the demographic they’d really want are people who aren’t truckers, perhaps unemployed or looking for a new career. These aren’t people who’ve already, in all likelihood, been shopping around for a trucking school. As a trucker-neutral person, my reaction to the commercial is shock of the other kind -- I never knew trucking school was so expensive. That said, I’m all for people signing up. It’s dangerous out there. And not just on TV.
Jordan Oakes is a local journalist who has written for publications such as St. Louis Magazine and the Christian Science Monitor. He has strong opinions that begin to atrophy if he doesn't exercise his right to express them. Tune in every Wednesday for another installment of Mediatribe - and if you missed last week's post, click here.
