Digital billboards are becoming a big part of the advertising business. This is no great surprise given the technology capabilities now available – not to mention that it seems an obvious element of the onward-march convergence of entertainment and advertising. The inevitable outcome does seem that they – entertainment and advertising - will become one and the same.
It’s easy to foresee the time when even high-brow culture becomes more commercially infused. (“Is this a Swarovski-crystal encrusted dagger that I see before me?” And “My name is Blanche, Blanche Dubois. It means White Woods, and that means plug in air freshener.”) Someday soon I’m certain that even those of us who still read literary fiction will only be able to do so in digital version, which will inevitably include hyperlinks, paid placements, sponsorships and ads. "(“I’m Joyce Carol Oates, and I’m fortunate enough to be naturally slender. But if you’re not, why not call Jenny Craig today?”)
Worse, of course, all of this will be, wherever possible, personalized. (As in Joyce Carol Oates saying, “Yes, Maureen, I’m talking to you,” when she’s talking 1-800-JENNY CRAIG, while pitching an ad for Ensure to one of my svelte friends. Somehow, they’ll figure out a way to work it all out, even for those of us who swap books.)
Beyond being moderately curious when Amazon “says” others who bought this book also bought…., I find the idea of personally aimed advertising intrusive. No. Intrusive is too mild a term. I find it invasive. Soul-crushing. Privacy-sucking. Deeply and profoundly odious.
For years, I resisted getting a CVS card-swipe because I didn’t want them knowing what toothpaste I use, or that I like Good ‘n Plenty. But the bargains proved too good to be true, so I got one.
I’m sure that personal advertising will sweeten the pot as it does when you’re a CVS card-carrier. LL Bean will catch me walking down the street in a washed out, stretched out tee-shirt and let me know I should order a replacement today – and that I’ll get 10% off for doing so – 15% if I look the digital ad straight in the “eye” and say “Order Now.” Or give some other high sign, the way folks do at auctions.
So I wasn’t thrilled to see an article in a recent Economist on “gladvertising” and “sadvertising.”
…a rather sinister-sounding idea in which billboards with embedded cameras, linked to face-tracking software, detect the mood of each consumer who passes by, and change the advertising on display to suit it…An unhappy-looking person might be rewarded with ads for a sun-drenched beach or a luscious chocolate bar while those wearing an anxious frown might be reassured (some might way exploited) with an ad for insurance.
Okay. Maybe this wouldn’t be as terrible as something that was one-on-one personally aimed at me. It would just be aimed at how I’m feeling (happiness, anger, sadness, fear, surprise and disgust) – billboard as mood ring. Nothing personal. (Sort of.)
Still…
And who’s it going to key in on if there are a couple of folks standing in “its” line of vision?
Just think. I could be standing there, thinking deep and cosmic existential thoughts, while the guy next to me has a colossal grin on his puss because he just won fifty-bucks on a scratch ticket. Who gets the ad? Me – targeted with Ben and Jerry’s (or uppers), or “the winner”, who gets a come-on for the Fung Wa bus to Foxwoods?
Or will the face-recognition ads – no doubt combining both the in- the-moment mood info with all of the detailed click-through and CVS purchase info that’s been agglomerated over the years in some cloudbank – be beamed to our personal über-device (pod, pad, whatever)? Or, even better, more invasively, more sinisterly, directly to our brains?
You, Maureen Rogers, I can tell you’re feeling sadness. That’s because you’ve got a blister from wearing uncomfortable shoes. Blink twice and we’ll order you a pair of comfy shoes from Zappo’s – 10.5 AAA, just the way you like them. But, since it will take five business days for them to reach you, take a right here for the nearest CVS. Pick up some of those special blister-fixin’ BandAids in Aisle 5. And why not treat yourself to a bag of dark chocolate Dove miniatures. You know you want them.
Weren’t these the sorts of things we used to decide for ourselves, back in the day when we seemed to have a modicum of free will.
Me? When the day arrives when every trip to the corner store becomes an opportunity to be bombarded by personally focused advertising, I’m going to take that old blue sheet I’ve been saving, cut a few breathing holes and and eye slits, and make myself a burqa. (I’ll figure something else out for trips to Paris, since the burqa, what with the French ban on complete cover-ups, won’t worka there.)
But I absolutely, positively don’t want advertising that’s particularized around me or my moods.
Fortunately, I’m in the demographic that most advertisers ignore, anyway.
One part of the aging process to be grateful for.
(Whoever named economics the dismal science had never heard of marketing…)
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