A worthy campaign marketers have missed

It has now been 10 days since my children abandoned me for the bright lights of Dunedin, sofa burning and supposed educational advancement.

The kitchen benches are wiped, there are no shoes to trip over and no overfilled rubbish bins to empty.

Instead of enraging me, now, when I find an empty packet that has been returned to the pantry, I just feel melancholy.

This is the brave new world of Empty Nest Syndrome which, to me, is an inexplicable mixture of sadness and excitement at my impending freedom.

Seeking solace and advice from friends was a disappointment. Join a club, do cooking lessons, volunteer, learn a language. Seriously? That feels like what I’ve been forced to do for the last 20 years.

And there I was, warming up for a repeat of my pre-children days of pub, sleep-ins and gym sessions whenever I wanted.

One ‘empty-nester’ friend confessed how she ‘naughtily’ read a book at the table while eating; displaying the poor manners she’d previously banned.

It’s true that the pressure’s off on that front. I don’t have to be a good role model all the time.

Anarchist that I am, I went crazy. I ate beans straight from the can and put the rest in the fridge without a lid. Imagine if my kids found out.

While there is endless research and advice on how to manage empty-nesting – including finding yourself and getting in touch with your inner child – the weird thing is that marketers haven’t picked up on the opportunity.

There are no campaigns trying to lure me to part with money and time with new ‘empty-nester’ ideas.

There is advertising for every other life event: back to school, having a baby, retiring. You could drown in a sea of ways to spend your money if you’re getting married. But no-one cares about empty-nesters.

How about offers to plug my short-term needs? I would have chugged down any cocktail called empty-nester panacea, paid money for a humorous play focused on life when the kids are gone and certainly watched a rerun of LadyBird at the movies with my mates and a gin or two.

Then there are the long-term opportunities.

Where are the ads saying: ‘‘Now that the kids are gone, let us help you plan the rest of your life’’. Whether that’s financial; the research shows millions of over 50s can afford to spend more than 10 per cent of their income on treats; physical, taking time to hit the gym; social, emptynester pubs and dance halls playing the music we’re allowed to listen to; or travel (one day).

Marketing to empty-nesters would have to be subtle. No-one wants to be reminded they’re getting older by being steamrolled with age-appropriate products

We’re also a new market, because kids used to be older when they left home and people didn’t live as long, so emptynesters only had a few years before they curled up their toes and died.

The weird thing about children leaving home is that it’s not forever. They’ll leave and come back and leave and come back in a continuing cycle, like one of those tortuous love affairs you just can’t shake.

So, I can decontaminate their bedrooms, but I can’t turn them into my creative studio or trade the house for a mobile home.

One piece of advice from a friend was to study up on relationship split-ups, because chances are that’s what will happen next.

Now there’s an idea for the next marketing campaign – refilling your nest when it’s completely empty.

Cas Carter believes it is strange that there are no marketing campaigns ‘‘trying to lure me to part with money and time with new ‘empty-nester’ ideas.’’