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Dear Netflix

July 14th, 2011 by

I was disappointed to hear that I can no longer get unlimited streaming and unlimited 1-disc-at-a-time DVDs for the low monthly price of $9.99. But you mentioned something about the new pricing more accurately reflecting your costs for providing these two services, and I can understand that, even if it sucks.

The news media and blogosphere have tossed around the idea that you would prefer subscribers give up the physical DVD habit and only stream their content. And I would say, the day that you are able to provide me every arcane title that I want at a given moment in a streaming format, I will make that switch. But right now, there’s a lot of good content for which you don’t have the streaming rights. (Right now, I’m catching up on True Blood Season 3.)

A lot of people would suggest I simply cancel my Netflix account and switch to other options such as Hulu Plus or Redbox DVD kiosks. I would go further and suggest that Apple’s iTunes and Amazon Video On Demand are also good alternatives, as well as my local library.

In fact, I do regularly pay money to all of these places. Sometimes you all have the same movie or TV show, and I can pick and choose based on the best price and personal convenience. Sometimes one of you have the content months earlier than the other, perhaps at a higher fidelity, and I’m willing to pay for those pluses. And sometimes the only way to see what I want is to get the DVD, and only you, Netflix, have it available.

So, I’m going to suck it up and pay you the extra $6. And I’m also going to continue to pay my Hulu Plus subscription fees, purchase season passes from iTunes and rent movies from Amazon VOD. Because when you add it all up, you’re all still a great deal, especially when compared to cable TV subscription fees.

Regards,
Deborah

Update:
David Pogue agrees: Why Netflix Raised Its Prices

Dear LittleMissMatched.com…

May 14th, 2010 by

Why do you keep sending me 20%-off sale emails?

My initial introduction to your brand came via Seth Godin, in his book Purple Cow. And I’ve seen your product on Seth’s feet when I’m lucky enough to attend a conference where he’s speaking. One of my co-workers finally pushed me over the edge into becoming your customer, however, when he mentioned a great gifting strategy for one of his nieces involving your socks. Basically, he mails one sock at a time, because, as he writes his niece, he can’t quite remember how many feet this girl has. One foot or many, many feet, he’ll figure it out one crazy mismatched sock at a time.

I placed my initial order for just one pair of socks, and was happy to also receive a bonus pair of socks as a new email-subscriber bonus. What really wowed me, however, was receiving a shipping confirmation email a few mere HOURS after placing my order. Maybe two days later, I was digging the socks out of my mailbox, and the next day at the office, I was surreptitiously sporting some dress code rebellion. Zany Black Anklet Socks

At this point, I was completely and totally in love with the LittleMissMatched.com operation. I wasn’t filling out and returning the sock forms with my own unique designs for your consideration, but I was spending way too much time on your website browsing socks and wishing that you’d come out with some with a brown base-color and abstract design soon.

On the day I made my first (and so far only) purchase with you, I opted into your email list. I’m an email marketer myself (in my time selling jewelry, gourmet popcorn, and car tires), and I was excitedly anticipating the wonders that would grace my inbox. I mean, you have a great product and a jaw-droppignly remarkable fulfillment operation. Surely your email marketing would be equally awesome.

First post-order email: “Introducing 5 New Limited Edition Sock Styles!”

Awesome. Exactly the content I was hoping for.

Second email: “Spend $50, Get $10 OFF for 2 Days Only!”

Um, really? I just had an amazing experience with your organization, and I’m perfectly happy to pay full price plus shipping right now.

Third email: “Spend $50, Get $10 OFF: Ends Today!”

Oh no. See above. And if you really have to give something away, why not shipping? $5.95 seems a little steep for socks that you flat-pack and ship via the U.S. Postal Service, now that you have me thinking about discounting.

Fourth email: Online Only: 20% Off All New Bags 2 Days Only!

You have bags? I didn’t know that. The 20% off turns me off though. I’d much rather you have focused on one of your bags and why I, as an adult woman (not a girl), would care to buy one. “Stuffy office dress code! Rebel with one of our zany yet practical bags!” Then tell me why the bag is just an awesome bag that’ll meet my practical needs (if not exceed them), in addition to looking wonderfully MissMatched.

Fifth Email: 25% Off All Liner Socks – 2 Days Only!
Sixth Email: Last Day: 25% Off All Liner Socks!

And so it goes on. Of the 12 marketing emails I’ve received since my purchase with you, 8 are about sales events. And my enthusiasm for your brand has died a little bit more with each email that offers me new ways to SAVE!

I wear my Little Miss Matched socks with joy. They’re my must-have accessory on days with air travel and for doctor appointments that require you to strip down to nothing but your socks and a paper gown. But I no longer think of your brand as innovative and exciting. Instead, you’re just one more retailer who gives away margin in place of offering remarkable marketing content. And that makes me really sad.

I’m sure there’s a part of your email list that is sale- and savings-driven. And nothing increases email open and click rates like a good sale. (I know. I do this for a living, too.) But there’s also a portion of your list that just wants to cheer on and support a remarkable brand and be romanced over and over again with how awesome you are.

So, please, for my sake if not yours, stop sending me sale emails. If price really mattered, I’d be buying my socks from Wal-Mart and mixing them up myself.

Sincerely,
Deborah Krier

P.S. Need a new remarkable idea? Announce your new line of fair labor socks in special, limited edition Little Miss Matched designs. Three times the price but look at all the good each purchase enables. In other words, keep being remarkable.

Every time a newspaper dies, even a bad one, the country moves a little closer to authoritarianism.

April 30th, 2010 by

I just canceled my local newspaper subscription for the second time.

I first subscribed when I moved into the area. Say what you want about the Google, Facebook, and Twitter, nothing beats a local newspaper for providing a newbie the lay of the land. And the ads were particularly helpful as I furnished my new apartment. After three months, though, I canceled my subscription. I was able to grab the local highlights from the newspaper’s handy iPhone app or the website, both of which were much better suited to my lifestyle than an actual printed paper. I felt guilty about the waste of resources in making and delivering to me this physical product which I completely ignored.

The second time I subscribed, I was cold-called with an amazing deal for former subscribers. Weekend-only delivery at a much-reduced rate. The coupons in the Sunday edition alone meant saying yes to this offer would almost be the equivalent of putting money in my pocket. So I said yes. And I proceeded to ignore the paper, for the most part, just like right before I canceled the first time. Yes, before recycling it, I’d fish out the P&G brandsaver and Red Plum inserts, but the rest of the paper was just waste.

So, when my billing renewal notice came in the mail (I couldn’t find a way to opt into online notifications for this sort of thing), I decided to cancel a second time. I called up subscriber services and explained that I just didn’t care to consume my local news in print format, and that if they offered an enhanced version of their news website, I’d be happy to pay for that. Not that I believed they offered an enhanced version of their news website. At least none was obviously advertised on the newspaper website. A click on the “subscribe” link only provided information on home newspaper delivery.

Imagine my surprise when, after being put on hold for a few moments so the customer service agent could confirm her information, I was told that indeed there is an online-only option, but should couldn’t sign me up for it. I needed to do so myself online. Did I need instructions on where to go? No, I replied, I’d find it myself. And armed with the confidence that it did in fact exist, I persisted until I did in fact find the place where I could sign up for an online-only subscription to my local newspaper.

Options for Online Only Newspaper Subscription

Wait. I have to qualify for an online only subscription?

You Must Qualify to Subscribe Online Only

I do believe local journalism is important, and I value the work of trained, professional journalists. I value it enough that I want to pay money for a subscription to my local newspaper. But I won’t pay if doing so requires that a bunch of paper and ink delivered inside an orange, plastic bag be forced upon me. Seriously, this is ridiculous.

And they wonder why newspapers are in trouble.

(Title quote from today’s post is courtesy of Richard Kluger.)

Cynics regarded everybody as equally corrupt… Idealists regarded everybody as equally corrupt, except themselves.

April 22nd, 2010 by

For Earth Day this year, I used styofoam.  Twice.  This was not my goal at all when I got up this morning.  I swear!

I ended the day on a more appropriate note, though, watching the documentary No Impact Man.  It’s the story about a man in the middle of Manhattan trying to live a life of “no net environmental impact” over the course of a year, with his wife and not-yet-potty-trained daughter.  Not only is the movie about a “liberal whiner” walking the walk, making the sacrifices most American’s wouldn’t even consider (seriously, this family gave up toilet paper!), but it’s about taking inventory of your life and remaking it in a purposeful, mindful manner.  What’s important, and what’s habit and distraction?  If you stop—or at least limit—being a consumer (TV, shopping, etc.), what are the alternatives waiting for you?

If I’m honest with myself, it’s not just this morning that I accidentally used and threw away styrofoam.  About once or twice a week I’ll treat myself to a morning coffee from the drive-thru at Burger King or McDonald’s, even though 15 minutes later I’ll be at the office where I keep my ceramic mug, just waiting to be filled with cheaper coffee from the office machine.  Or if I really can’t wait, maybe I should grab my I Am Not a Paper Cup Porcelain Travel Cup with Lid as I run out the door and have a barista fill that up instead.

I wonder what my other bad habits are that could easily be stopped, if I only stay just a little more mindful?

Learn More about the No Impact Man project:
• Read the blog: http://noimpactman.typepad.com
• Download the Kindle version of the book: No Impact Man: The Adventures of a Guilty Liberal Who Attempts to Save the Planet, and the Discoveries He Makes About Himself and Our Way of Life in the Process

(Quote from this post’s title is courtesy of Robert Anton Wilson.)