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You know that friend of yours, for whom everything was wicked, skill or lush… for whom even a slight upturn in immediate circumstances or atmospheric conditions was epic, awesome or occasionally mental? The one who would have an out-of-body experience at the smallest gift that everyday life can bring?


People that positive are great. But they don’t usually succeed in marketing because they’re exhausting, and you quickly learn to water them down or tune them out entirely. Also, there’s a very human response to such behaviour: to not take them too seriously on matters of merit or taste.

Yes, that’s my long-winded way of saying ‘gushing doesn’t persuade’. Superlatives don’t land well. The best thing ever, usually isn’t. I’ve missed out on so many great books, films, records, gigs, holiday destinations, restaurants and other valuable experiences simply because someone wouldn’t relent in telling me how unequivocally brilliant they were, and that my life would not be complete until I investigate. It’s human nature to resist such incursions.

The same applies to selling, whether it’s objects or concepts, lifestyles or reassurances. 

Besides outright cynicism and telling fibs, gushing is pretty high up in terms of what I really don’t understand (and really don’t like) about pushy, presumptuous marketing. To suggest that there’s a hole in my soul – or a fundamental existential flaw to my cosmic journey – because I haven’t yet parted with cash to secure a transformative, transcendental experience – is never going to persuade me. I resist it, to the very core of what little soul I have. And as far as I can tell, I’m not alone.

‘Ah, George, you FOOL!’, I hear you scream. ‘You’re in denial! The seed is sown, and you will invest!’ Well, if that’s marketing, I don’t want to be complicit, and I’ve avoided or flatly turned down most opportunities to become so. I can’t lie. I can’t gush as part of my persuasive prose, even if I really believe in what I’m hawking at any given time; mostly because I judge my writing on how I’d react to it, being the cynical git that I am.

And I think that’s healthy, if I’m honest.

So, what am I actually saying here?

Well, this:

Don’t fall over yourself to persuade with your words. Simply inform, in a calm, human, relatable and faintly enthusiastic fashion. People react far more positively to a non-pushy, informative and insightful conveyance of genuinely good reasons to find out more. Not necessarily to buy, just yet, but to be given the space to consider your modest pitch.

The more you leave people to make their own minds up, in their own time, the more likely you are to win them over.

That’s what I meant by bombastico ni fantastico.

And yes, I know it’s linguistically inaccurate.

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