Oh, direct mail. Does anyone even know who you are anymore? Gone are the days when I had a six to one ratio of Occupant mail to my own. When I do get Occupant mail now, it’s usually from some weird mail order husband factory or my MLA. Perhaps they are one and the same. (I know your game, Laurie Hawn.)
I guess most of the world has dropped direct mail like a hot potato, usually in favour of a social media plan. Kids these days, etcetera. You know what though? NOT ME. I am bringing direct mail back like a pair of shiny gold leggings. Not for any noble reason. Certainly not because, with the lack of Occupant mail lately, my lone whisper into the wind of Canada Post will stand out. (Though: bonus!)
I do it because I work at a non-profit with a very narrow target audience that’s not necessarily computer-savvy. Oh, and direct mail is free for me. That’s right, gloriously free. You see, my host organization sends out all my mail with theirs at no charge. So as long as I’m willing to do the tri-folding, hand-addressing, cursing and white-outing, I can buy all the direct mail I like for the price of free. Did I mention my non-profit has an operating budget worth even less than my battered ‘99 Saturn? Yeah, free is good.
So begins my second experiment. I have had an unexpectedly enthusiastic response to my direct mail plea for silent auction donations. I expect to follow this up with the mother of all free follow-up methods: the lukewarm phone call. If you need an overachieving PR flunkie to mine every worn-out method in the book to save your budget? I’M YOUR GAL. I’ll keep you posted on how this goes.
I hear you out there saying: So Jill, what’s up with your last experiment? Remember social media?
Way to call me on my bullshit, reader. PR is pretty hard to blog or tweet about when you have no job! Still, my blog is actually seeing regular traffic, which is bewildering. I hope that indicates I’m saying something of interest here, and not that a prince in Nigeria is about to offer me untold millions. I haven’t updated my LinkedIn to reflect my newly acquired job/source of blog fodder. I haven’t really been doing much with Twitter except trying without success to get in on the conversation everyone is apparently having. Worst net citizen ever. In my next post I think I’ll tackle my love/hate relationship with Twitter.
But by god, I can send mail.
What do you think? Is direct mail a dinosaur that is doomed to die in a brave new world? Is my DM campaign destined for failure? Weigh in below.
Buy me a ticket, I’m coming aboard. It’s been too long since I’ve received a letter covered with perfume and lipstick imprints.
Jill if you send me a letter. I will definitely send you one back.
There’s a lot to be said for a 98 bright, 36lb, clean-scored invitation stamped with a big ol’ lip-shape of Rubilicious Red. Nowadays the kids just want to send you a Facebook message… You’re invited to “A Pants Party”, Location: My Pants.
Subtlety is dead.