In the space of just a few days, I got three different magazine subscription offers, boom, boom, boom, and thought I’d share my thoughts.

First, this short-and-sweet offer from Dog Fancy. The main piece is what I think of as a “two-thirds” mailing, because instead of being 11″ long like a standard sheet of paper, it’s roughly two-thirds of, that, and simply folded in half along the perforation. The top half is the reply form and the bottom half is the “Summary of Benefits.” Though, the proportion for that seems all wrong–it looks like it was actually cut off, as if there should be a bottom third.

The only insert is a two-sided, color piece that gives quotes from readers on one side and a list of what the magazine offers on the other–all liberally decorated by pictures of cute dogs.

Personally, if it were up to me, I would have made the actual reply piece the one that was more colorful and eye-catching–that piece, the one people have to look at to actually subscribe is where the action is. The insert is nice, but my feeling is that you shouldn’t waste your color and extra-eye-catching design on the piece that’s going in the garbage later on–if it’s looked at all.

Second, a piece from New Jersey Monthly. This comes on a full-size sheet of paper with color illustrations of the magazine. The top two-thirds are the subscription offer, with the bottom third being the return-coupon. This means that, reading the piece, your eye ends at the spot where you take action–”Detach here and mail. Keep top portion for your records.” (Though, since that is ON the top portion, it makes it sound as if you’re detaching the top and mailing it back, but that’s really just quibbling.)

This offer came with not one, but three inserts–all the small, buck-slip size. A yellow paper telling me this is a limited-time offer. A glossy slip telling me about the special “A-to-Z Guide” that’s a premium for subscribing. Third, a little, glossy booklet with the fantastic headline, “Everything you want is in New Jersey … if you know where to look!” (I particularly liked how the font changed on the state name so that it matched the logo of the magazine. And I love the slogan–New Jersey gets too bad a rap, you know? )

If only because of the variety of inserts and the full-size of the main piece, I liked this mailing a little better. There was enough space for them to sell the magazine, and it didn’t leave me turning the page over looking for the rest of the “benefits.”

Third, this Knit Simple offer, which kind of blew the other two out of the water.

Firstly, it’s different. The offer IS the mailing piece. It’s not a piece of paper that was inserted into an envelope. Instead, it’s a fold-out, cardstock presentation. Two sides, four panels, lots of color, lots of pictures. Very eye-catching. It has a substantial feel in the hand, and it’s refreshing not to have lots of little extra pieces to lose or drop on the floor.

Not only that, it kind of looks like a magazine–it gives you a feel for the look of the magazine, full of color and knitted pieces, and since it’s all one piece, you actually look at all of it. The reply portion is a business-reply card ready to be detached from the innermost fold of the mailing. No envelopes to lose. Nothing fussy.

Of course, the caveat is that this kind of piece is going to be a lot more expensive to produce than something printed on a standard laser printer and stuffed in a standard envelope, but … it sure did catch my eye. And isn’t that the point?

This mailing is a solid example of, first, the importance of having your demographics straight.

I got this mailing from Sports Illustrated, offering me a subscription. Now, since I’m not exactly a sports fan, their number one mistake is that the odds of me deciding to take a subscription are pretty slim.

Of course, that doesn’t reflect on the actual quality of the mailing.

Right at the top, it says, “Sports Fan Savings Offer” and tells me what the cover price of the magazine would be, how much I could save, and what I would actually have to pay.

Then, it spells out the offer details–the subscription, a free NFL Game Day Jacket (pictured), various special issues, ending with the money-back guarantee promise in case I am ever dissatisfied.

The bottom is a straight-forward order form, recapping the price and giving me space to write my credit card number before mailing it back. There’s also room to specify the size jacket I’d like (choices of Large, Extra-Large, or Extra-Extra-Large only), as well as to specify the team jacket of my choice.

How do I specify the team? The insert that came with it was covered with stickers of different team helmets, so I can pick my favorite team for my free jacket. This is a nice little interactive touch.

Ultimately, I think this was a good mailing. It doesn’t play any tricks, it offers a nice free goodie. It’s personalized with my name–a touch that can be cheesy, I think, if used too much, but hey, this is MY order form.

The only bad part is … where on earth did they get the mailing list?

I liked this offer from TIME magazine. First, it’s simple. No crazy bells and whistles, things I need to check or fold or tweak or poke or circle or tear. Okay, the reply portion is the bottom third of the letter and needs to be torn off, but that barely counts.

The letter starts simply. It tells me this is a “Guaranteed Savings Offer” and immediately follows by telling me what the cover price would be, what I’m saving, and what I need to pay for this offer–and a year’s subscription to TIME for $20.00 puts this at about the same price range as a newspaper. A very tempting offer.

The middle section spells out details like the rate and some of the special features that come with a subscription, like the TIME Person of the year issue, and what TIME magazine offers. (“Latest developments in health and medicine.” “Comprehensive coverage of world news and politics.”)

Let’s not forget the special premium offer–a laser level, free with my paid order. It’s a good premium, I suppose. Everybody has pictures to hang now and again, though I don’t quite see what it has to do with TIME.

The reply portion is simple to read, easy to figure out. It offers a check-box where I can request my special laser level premium. It also spells out in bold–in case I missed it earlier–that if I pay up front, I can  save another $5 and get the year’s subscription for only $15. I have to admit, that’s an impressive price for 56 issues of just about anything.

There’s a website I can use to subcribe, too, which is something else I appreciate. Not everybody likes snail mail.

All in all? I liked this mailing. It didn’t try to “sell” me on anything. It just laid out the facts, it kept it simple, and it had a tempting offer.

In fact, I took them up on this one. Come to think of it though, it’s been over a month, and I haven’t received that level yet…

Well, this looks important. It even says so. “Important Notification for New Jersey State Residents,” right there on the cover. I’d better hurry and open it!

So, I hurriedly tear off the perforated sides … because that’s always fun … and this is what I see. An offer for books. Apparently the rush was to tell me that they are holding a “leather-bound Collector’s Edition of Huckleberry Finn” JUST for me, and for only $5.95!

A little sneaky, that. It did get me to open it, which is the point, though my very first reaction was, “It’s just a direct mail piece, that’s not important.” So they should consider themselves lucky I read further (grin).

It turns out, these lovely people will give me the chance to buy copies of the 100 greatest books ever written. It’s not a book club, they hasten to reassure me. They “simply offer the option to choose the books I wish to own.”

The reply card is tucked behind a piece of cellophane, with a reply envelope. A nice touch that kept all the loose pieces together when I opened the offer. No paper spilling onto the floor.

As unsolicited mailings go, this was a good one. They reassure me right away that I am under no obligation. They list the advantages of trying their books (leather binding, gilt page edging, full-color illustrations). They point out that the no-obligation price for this copy is $5.95, but also tell me the regular price for the other “greatest books” is $39.95. Which is where they lost me, incidentally. I’m not interested in spending that much money for a book, as a rule, preferring to get two or three (or four) books for that amount. But, still if the quality is there, I suppose it’s not unreasonable.

The important thing is that the people who put the mailing together were up-front about the details. No sneaky stuff in the fine print, or trying to mislead me … well, other than the “important message” on the outside, but that was just to get me to open the thing, and after that they were direct and honest, so, I suppose I can’t really complain.

I recently received a copy of Food Network magazine–to which I tried a trial subscription a year ago–with this letter pasted to the cover.

“Important Subscriber Notice” is emblazoned across the top, with a warning that, “This is a reminder that your current subscription term is ending, but as a part of our Continuous Service program, your subscription will automatically renew unless you tell us to stop.”

To my knowlege, publishers are legally required to alert people before they are automatically billed for a subscription (a requirement of which I entirely approve). I thought this presentation of that “tickler letter” was pretty creative, first of all.

When I tell you this was pasted onto the cover–I mean exactly that. It wasn’t just an insert into the polybag the magazine arrived in. It wasn’t an “attached renewal” that was stuffed into an envelope in the bag, that saved postage but otherwise looked like a regular renewal. No, this was literally stuck to the cover, like a giant post-it note. Impossible to miss.

It very clearly states that this is not a bill. “No action on your part is necessary to renew.”

All-in-all, pretty clever, right? It makes sure you can’t miss it. It doesn’t permanently deface the actual issue. It’s polite and clear in its message.

There’s only one problem.

There, in the small print? “You can cancel your subscription or automatic continuous service charges at any time by writing ‘cancel’ on your invoice and returning it in the envelope we provide, visiting our website or forwarding your request to….”

First, and most importantly, there was no provided envelope and since this particular letter is NOT a bill … what invoice am I supposed to be writing “cancel” on?

Second, I tried going to the website and … once I found the customer service section (which took a while), there was an option for cancelling the subscription. Except, that looked like it would cancel it right away, instead of just letting it run to expire (which would be my preference), and I didn’t see any option at all for just removing the “auto-renew” code so that I could get regular, printed renewal notices, which would be my second choice.

I didn’t hate the magazine, you see, but I don’t remember signing up for the automatic-renewal program (hence the legal requirement of the reminder). I just prefer to be the one to decide when and if my magazine subscriptions get renewed, so the fact that I somehow got entered as an auto-renew sub … my guess is there was small print on the original direct mail order card I sent back … is not my preference.

They didn’t waste the inside/back of the letter, either, but took the chance to remind readers of all the benefits of subscribing. Because, it would have been silly to leave the flip side empty, right?

One more note–I liked the judicious use of color. The entire piece is primarily black and white, except for a few elements in shades of green–just enough to catch your eye, but not enough to be (1) distracting or (2) overly expensive to print. The actual letter text (“Dear Valued Reader, I appreciate you being a reader…”) is in a box that visually separates it from the “jargon,” if you will. It’s actually the least important part of this page, and therefore printed in a smaller font, and kept separate, like a sidebar.

Ultimately, I liked this delivery method, I thought it was creative and effective. When you write direct mail pieces or subscription letters, you DREAM of having fool-proof ways of making somebody at least see (if not read) your piece.

I just wish whoever had written this had thought through the “write cancel and return in the envelope” bit a little more carefully. It’s like a glaring error in an otherwise perfect piece.

Edited to add: It’s good that I held this before publishing this post because about two weeks later, I got an Invoice in the mail saying it was for the automatic renewal, and please pay now. It doesn’t seem very cost-effective, but at least it explains what invoice they meant I should write “cancel” on if I wasn’t interested.

Now, THIS is a direct mail offer I can get behind.

This is a subscription offer from National Geographic and is one I think did just about everything right.

The top portion states “Preferred Account Order Form.” See? No attempts to mislead me. It’s telling me that I would be a preferred account (so flattering), but acknowledging that this is an order form, an offer, not something I’ve already expressed interest in. It tells me what the newsstand price is, what I’m being offered, and how much I’d save if I take them up on it.

Yes, there’s a reply-by date to encourage me not to dawdle, but it doesn’t make it sound like missing it is a black mark against my character, either.

There’s a nice premium offered, too, a free world map once I pay for my subscription. I like this because it perfectly fits National Geographic–and it’s something offered to everyone who accepts this offer, not just a select few whose mailmen raced to the mail truck the fastest. It’s something that has some value to it, too, not a cheap throw-away kind of gift like a bumper sticker. (Not that bumper stickers are bad things, I have nothing against them, but the option of using my car for free advertising would not encourage me to subscribe to a magazine.)

The letter portion spells out the subscription benefits, but unlike the Good Housekeeping offer, it talks about the subscription benefits, not just the magazine benefits. This is one of those things that can go either way–do you want to inspire people with your product? Or with the offer? You can do either–or both–but it never hurts to explain why signing up for a subscription is a better idea than picking this up at the newsstand. (Though, for the record, the back of the letter actually spells out what the magazine offers … so they’re covered either way.)

One of the other things I like? As if getting a free map and a good price wasn’t enough, they’re including some return address labels for me, just because. Now, return address labels are easy enough to produce and almost every charity seems to include them in their mailings these days, but I like them here. They immediately give me something with some value, even before I sign up. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like they’re really making sure that I’m going to feel welcome as a subscriber.

Then, not for nothing, but the quality of the paper is particularly nice–glossy stock with a good finger-feel to it. I don’t object to normal paper for these things, but there’s something satisfying about feeling good paper when you take the offer out of the envelope.

Well done, National Geographic!

Let’s take a look at another direct mail I received recently, this time for a magazine subscription. Like the last one, I consider this to be “sneaky.”

First, it looks a lot like an invoice, even though I’ve never subscribed to Good Housekeeping magazine–or even read it, so far as I can remember, except for flipping through Mom’s copy back when I was a teenager. But it’s not a magazine I’ve looked at in years, so I know for a fact that I do not subscribe now, nor have I expressed any interest in subscribing in the past.

So, at first glance out of the envelope, I was wondering what this was. The form section is emblazoned “Rate Adjustment” with a “status pending” that says, “Credit adjustment in the amount of -$33.91.”

It doesn’t state “Invoice” anywhere … which it legally cannot do, since it is not an invoice … but I think saying “Rate Adjustment” is tricky. It implies that there was a prior rate or offer to be adjusted, when in fact, all they’re really doing is offering me a deal of 81% off the cover price of the magazine. (That is, off the price that it would cost me to buy the magazine at a newsstand or bookstore all year.)

Further, the letter portion tells me, “Your credit adjustment is only valid if accepted and paid on time. If you are responding now and wish to pay your total, please see revised rate above.” That’s kind of harsh and abrupt for an offer that’s supposed to be doing me a favor, don’t you think? It’s not friendly and helpful (“Please act now! We can only offer this special rate for a limited time!”), it’s strict and unyielding–not the kind of relationship I want to start a subscription with.

The thing that irks me about this offer is that it doesn’t sound like they’re offering anything. They just want something, and come across as fully expecting that I will do what they want. Obviously, price breaks are one of the main reasons a person signs up for magazine subscriptions–that, and the convenience–but sending out a subscription offer that tells me I’ve got a “status pending” for my “rate adjustment” implies that I’ve already shown interest and that I will, of course, just send in my money because they expect me to. Call me crazy, but I like my manipulation to be a little more subtle.

There is some added incentive to respond–a chance to win a set of free dinnerware if I’m one of the first 50 people to respond to this offer. That immediately makes me skeptical, because I’d imagine that Good Housekeeping gets hundreds or thousands of subscription responses every day, and what are the odds that I’d be in the first fifty? I’m not doubting that GH will send them out, mind you, just questioning the validity of it as a premium that so few people are going to get … and one that relies on the post office and the people opening the mail to determine the lucky fifty. Certainly it’s out of my control.

The letter portion is a bulleted list of features … 12-issue annual subscription, triple-tested recipes, weight-loss advice (Do I look fat to them?), and let’s not forget the Good Housekeeping Seal. (Golly!) This portion is pretty standard, nothing really to object to, since it’s listing the benefits I’d get by subscribing. Although, really, it’s describing the benefits to reading the magazine, not necessarily to subscribing to it (but maybe that’s what they were going for).

Lastly, let’s not forget the small print on the form that describes the “Continuous Service Guarantee. Your subscription will continue until you ask us to stop. Each year you’ll receive a reminder notice followed by an invoice for the low renewal rate then in effect. You can cancel at any time and receive a refund for all unmailed issues.” Apparently by responding to this offer, I’m agreeing to have my subscription automatically renewed each year. This is not exactly an unusual thing for a magazine to offer–it’s good for the magazines to be able to count on a certain percentage of renewals, and it’s convenient for subscribers to know that they won’t miss anything. Except … I like to be ASKED first.

I don’t think this offer is as egregious as that DVD offer last week, but still think it could be improved.

• Instead of “Rate Adjustment” change the header to “Special Offer” or something that doesn’t make the reader think she’s forgotten an ongoing exchange.
• Don’t be sneaky about the fact that this is an offer for a brand-new subscription, not something that I’ve expressed interest in … we have no credit amount to adjust since I haven’t agreed to anything yet.
• If you offer a premium, make it one that all your subscribers will get–or at least, offer something to everyone with the promise of something special for some. Like, offer a free recipe-conversion booklet to everyone, with that dinnerware offer on top. But why not make it random, so people feel like they’ve got a fighting chance to win it?
• Don’t scare off your potential subscribers by being harsh on your generous offer … threatening me that this price won’t be valid if I don’t pay on time does not make me feel warm and fuzzy toward the magazine. Did I ask for this to show up in my mailbox? Why should I need to rush?
• Don’t trick me into your automatic renewal program either. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but give me an option to check of Yes or No if I don’t want to.

All in all? The mailing does not get MY Seal of Approval.

I got this direct mail piece the other day, and was kind of appalled at how sneaky it was.

Mind you, I love creative direct mails. It’s a tough market, and if you have something to sell, you need to be creative.

This one, though? A DVD in a nice case, a “yours to keep!” so-called collectible coin (golly, for me?), two separate return envelopes, and a confusing set of instructions.

Picture it: I just came home from a long day, am tired, just want to flip through my mail and start thinking about what to do for supper, and instead I’m trying to figure out why these people are sending me a DVD I didn’t order.

First, I had to find the letter. This long sheet of paper has a return envelope and instructions on the outside, with this letter folded onto the inside … but since it was behind/inside/attached to the envelope, it took me at least two passes through the pieces in the envelope to find the thing.

The letter starts off, “You must be wondering why you’ve received the enclosed DVD, entitled ‘How the Earth was Made.’ the reason is simple, please let me explain…“  Well, they got that part right because that was exactly what I was wondering.

It then goes into a lengthy explanation about how the Smithsonian Institution is creating a “landmark” collection of DVDs and how I am so, so lucky to be given the chance to “see, hear, feel and appreciate what the Chronicles Series is all about.”  It explains how I can “keep it with no obligation as a gift.” Okay, fine, whatever. I’ve subscribed to Smithsonian Magazine since the 1980s so I am legitimately on their mailing list. I’ve gotten Very Special Offers from them before, just … never one like this.

Because here’s what bugs me. Well, really, there are several things, but this is the big one.

I’ve read this thing several times, and I still swear it’s contradicting itself.

It says:

“If you don’t wish to participate in the series you may return the DVD along with your Member Reply Form in the white postage-paid Merchandise Return Envelope attached to this letter… Because you didn’t ask for this special DVD, you don’t have to participate or send it back and you can consider it a gift.”

Um, call me crazy, but why are they both asking me to send back the unwanted DVD and also telling me that I can keep it? If I’m supposed to feel empowered by having all these options, it’s not working. I just feel confused. Am I particularly slow today? Am I lightheaded from hunger because I’m still trying to get past the pile of mail and to the kitchen?

The actual order form doesn’t help. It’s got two check boxes, one for “Yes, please, sign me up” one for “No, I’m returning the DVD, please don’t send any more,” AND then there’s small print telling me I can just keep it without participating. Huh?

Now, as a consumer, I’m not only confused at this point, but I’m frustrated. Confused, frustrated, hungry, and getting annoyed.

Seriously–it’s a direct mail piece, something I did not request, so legally I am under no obligation … so why are they (1) making it so complicated and (2) making a big deal about how I should return the DVD if I don’t want it and yet still decide to return it (as opposed to not wanting it and just throwing it away)?

You think I’m kidding?

Talk about labor-intensive. If I am feeling so inclined as to return this lovely little DVD I never asked to be saddled with, I’ve got this cute little pictogram explanation of exactly what I am required to do to return it. 1. Detach the envelope, 2. remove the DVD from its case, and 3. mail it back–but it comes with the warning that, “Due to postal changes DO NOT return the plastic DVD case. You may keep, recycle, or discard it.” (Well, that’s lucky.)

How is putting your Business-Reply permit limitations on the consumer a good idea? Some people love nothing better than wasting as much of that as possible–they stuff BREs with cardboard, send back blank blow-in cards, anything they can think of because they’re so frustrated with direct mails and subscription cards. If I were that kind of person, telling me that you–who have already made me confused and frustrated–will get in trouble if I send back the entire case is frankly just asking for trouble.

But, let’s go back to that whole Do I or Do I Not Return the DVD issue which I’m STILL not clear on. What on God’s green earth does my sending back the unwanted DVD in a paper envelope do for any of us? You can say what you want about the post office, but that thing is going to get stomped on. It’s not like it’s going to return intact. In fact, the Smithsonian is going to end up paying fairly substantial return-mail postage for me to send back a DVD that I didn’t ask for and that they’re going to have to just toss in the garbage.

As I see it, there should be THREE possiblities at this point–1. Yes, I love this video, enroll me, and keep them coming. 2. I didn’t like this particular DVD, and am returning it, but would like to see more, or 3. Who are you and why are you bothering me, this is all garbage.

Except, none of the verbiage in the letter or on the order form acknowledges option #2 at all–which, to my mind, is the only reason you would WANT someone to send back the DVD if they’re not interested.

Believe me, the cheap “Collector’s Series” collectible coin with the picture of the Smithsonian castle is NOT enough to counter-balance the things wrong with this direct mail.

No matter how wonderful the DVD is … I haven’t watched it, and don’t really plan to … the Smithsonian just spent a small fortune to assemble and mail this crappy direct mail. There’s the special, outer envelope, the DVD in its snazzy case, a non-postage-paid return envelope, a postage-paid return envelope, (and, why two envelopes?) an insert reiterating the instructions for returning the DVD that I apparently don’t need to return at all, the letter, the order form, plus the coin. That’s a lot of stuff to get into one envelope, and not really light on the postage, either. Not to mention that the letter/order form/BRE combination was likely a custom paper order.

And, after putting all this money into the direct mail, they end up with a presentation that’s confusing and complicated … I’m still waiting for a reason as to why I should bother sending the DVD back at all. The letter with an explanation was buried, folded in amongst all the other things, so that I was already frustrated by the time I found it.

Folks, here are some of the things you need to remember about direct mails.

• Get people to open the envelope–which this one, I admit, did
• Keep things simple. Don’t make your potential customers hunt for what you want them to do.
• Give them as much information as you want, but make it accessible.
• For heaven’s sake, don’t give out mixed signals. If you want the DVD back, say so, but don’t tell me that I CAN send it back but that I can also keep it for no obligation. Which one am I supposed to do so that I can sleep at night?
• Remember that customers–much as we love them–can be stupid. If you make things too complicated for them, they get upset, like a 4-year old trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle.
• Bonus gifts are nice and catchy–the “collector’s coin” idea had potential, but the actual coin is kind of cheesy. That can still be okay, if it’s a one-shot, get-attention deal. Then you could just give it to your child to play Bank with, but no, the sales letter makes a point of telling me that I’ll get more coins with the other videos, “until my coin collection is complete.” Gee, there’s incentive, because I really want more of these things.
• Don’t make people WORK for what you want them to do. The harder you make it to respond to your mailing, the fewer people are going to respond. Consumers may enjoy actively checking off their preferences in boxes and sticking stickers on the right form, but make it clear! Make it fun! Don’t make it feel like work.

Oh yes, and why did I call this sneaky at the beginning? Because, since the instructions are unclear, and the proper response if you don’t want it is perplexing, my guess is that some people are going to get this mailing, with the DVD right there in their hand, and just pay the $12.95 because they don’t want to get into trouble. Not something you’d expect from a classy organization like the Smithsonian Museum.

But then, there’s more small print to this mailing, saying “This program is being administered under a licensing arrangement by TN Marketing LLC, a for-profit company.” Maybe I’m not the only one to question their practices, and perhaps the Smithsonian should have done some more research?