Tax Time

I know nothing of advertising strategies. My age and marital status eliminate me from most targeted markets that require innovative ad solutions. I am awkward as a girl without a partner at a school dance as I try to find the appeal of television commercials that tend to send Craig into fits of laughter. On the whole, our family tends to purchase outside of the conventional box with the exception of Rem’s sudden desire for a pillow pet during the holidays. Luckily, the desire disappeared before I caved in and he returned to more Rem-like material wishes. Just yesterday he asked me if he could have a parrot. The parrot, he suggested, could live in the rim of the pirate hat (revolutionary hat, actually) his father just sent him. I told him I’d think about it. Lise as a consumer is solely functional-minded with occasional spending spurts of spontaneous excess whose origins remain a mystery to all. Miren prides herself on her unique fashion sense based on setting herself apart from the masses and a frugality that prohibits spending money for words printed across t-shirts “hiding the great colors” beneath advertising that young people pay to provide.

Now that I have established myself as the antithesis of expert in the realm of advertising, a trait that stretches beyond the individual into my familial circle, I dare to tread into the waters of marketing. Miren counseled me to stay away from ranting about issues, especially ones where I acknowledge ignorance on the subject matter. I almost relented to her wisdom until yesterday as I sat at the red light after leaving Lise’s school and stared in disbelief at the woman on the corner. I speak of the advertising campaign of the franchised tax businesses that require employees to humiliate themselves in cheap statue of liberty costumes on the busy streets in front of the businesses. The awful blue-green that drapes only to mid-calf on most people looks as though a stock boy from Kmart discovered an unopened box of costumes from the early eighties and passed them along. The foam crown’s lack of rigidity leads to collapse on one side or another and forces poor posture upon the unfortunate Lady Liberty imposter.

The cast of posers change and the kids and I speculate as to whether the debased employee serves a work-related punishment for a tax-related mistake or, more likely, for failure to meet client quotas. Undaunted by the public disgrace, the liberty characters dance wildly on the corner, pausing only to wave obnoxiously to the passers-by. Men and women alike gyrate within a small square of sidewalk to street-noise for there is no music playing anywhere. I can only avert my eyes and concentrate on the light cycle of the swaying street light above me.

This foray into employee humiliation is not a new advertising strategy. I have passed cartooned Caesars boasting hot, $5 pizzas and waving ice-cream cones beckoning people into strip malls where apparent gigantic servings of ice-cream are offered. Mistakenly, I assumed children were the target audience of such displays. Are hardworking, taxpaying citizens enticed by bad costumes and frantic gestures? My naiveté presented itself again in the assumption that the particular tax preparer on Merrimon had drummed up the bizarre tactic for boosting business. Apparently, the use of the unstable looking Lady Liberties in cheap costumes is widespread. I now avoid Patton Avenue when driving (at least until April 15th).

Now I return to yesterday. Driving down Merrimon near the intersection, I glanced sideways in hopes that all involved came to their senses and stopped the ridiculous displays. Not to be. Lady Liberty stood in her usual spot but this time a large stuffed white bear sat in her arms also bearing a limp, foam crown. The woman held the paw of the stuffed animal and waved it toward the passing cars. Who would entrust such a person with sifting through the year’s finances to determine tax responsibilities? What am I missing? Could someone provide me with the statistics that establish the success of such advertising? I would like to drive again with my eyes wide open.