I am not an impatient woman.
One of my fave dive restaurants takes its sweet time with service. I also patronize a certain South Side Jewel-Osco where the lines, often needlessly, stretch down the aisles.
But the one thing I cannot sit through, not even for five minutes, is an infomercial. Perhaps I was born with a natural aversion to ludicrous setups, overacting pitchpeople and cheap sets.
More Top Picks Best Blue Light Glasses Under 100
I hoped the format — a bane of late-night TV — would have died out by now, like the Sony Walkman and Tara Reid’s career. That’s why I’m shocked a major cosmetics company sees these irritating ad spots as a way to win, rather than ward off, new business.
Avon, in response to waning profits, will launch its first-ever TV infomercial on Saturday, according to The Associated Press. The half-hour presentation — set to air on Oxygen — features Deborah Norville, Suze Orman and regular women who sell Avon in an effort to attract more everywoman sales reps, AP reported.
Yeesh. I can already hear the sweet music, see the soft lighting and imagine testimonials read from teleprompters. I can’t say for certain, but I’m betting there will be lots of pink and at least one white couch.
Don’t do it, Avon.
Why do you think most mainstream brands — Verizon, Comcast or Pringles — can limit their pitch to 30 seconds?
It’s because there is an easily explained demand for their product.
That’s not exactly the case when you’re selling steps that help a dog climb onto your couch, a grill that is a glorified hot plate, and lights that respond to an old lady clapping her hands. And if I never see Tony Little on a Gazelle again, it’ll be too soon.
That brings me to another pratfall of infomercials: the pitchpersons. More often than not, they are shrill shills with little to no credibility. At best, they are so fired up, it’s laughable. Case and point: veteran pitchman Billy Mays and his inhuman excitement about OxiClean.
And what on Earth was up with that Andy Dick look-alike in the question mark suit? He looked like a refugee from “Pee-wee’s Playhouse.” At least he appeared harmless.
Some spokesfolks are downright repugnant. My eyebrows automatically raised whenever I saw the scraggly ShamWow star selling absorbent scraps of super sponge. But Vince Shlomi’s recent arrest for allegedly assaulting a prostitute makes it clear he should ShamWow the stains from his own reputation.
Of course, Shlomi is on the extreme end of what ails infomercials, but he is but one of many good reasons to tune them out altogether. If it takes a company 30 minutes to explain why you need a product, fact is, you probably don’t.