Not much fun to be a target audience
Want to feel young? Want to feel spry and healthy? Want to feel like you’ve got life by the horns and nothing can make you let go? Then don’t watch the evening news on television.
This has nothing to do with the content of the news, as depressing as it might be. I can handle that. It’s the commercials that will make you feel like you’re at death’s door.
Apparently, no one under age 55 watches “NBC Nightly News with Lester Holt.” This is made abundantly clear by the commercials, which target decrepit, disease-ridden financial imbeciles like myself.
With our kids long gone, and conversation about our day quickly out of the way, my wife and I like to eat dinner with Lester and see what’s going on in the world. Usually he’s on our DVR, and we can race through the commercials. But occasionally we watch him live, like we did the other day, and suffer accordingly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked after the last commercial ended. It happened to be for Prevagen, which is supposed to improve short-term memory.
“I’m surprised I’m alive,” she responded. “It’s hard to believe I don’t have any of these medical problems.”
In the course of the half-hour broadcast, we had seen advertisements for Xeljanz (rheumatoid arthritis), Xarelto (blood clots), Otezla (psoriasis), Trulicity (diabetes) and Epclusa (hepatitis C). Then there were the commercials for nonprescription treatments, such as Advil, Aleve, Coricidin and Robitussin.
For those of us who are not yet afflicted with all those ailments, the Madison Avenue whippersnappers touted retirement planning services. Fidelity Wealth Management and Ameritrade Retirement Planning suggested that we get our act together before it’s too late.
“Geez, that was fun!” I exclaimed as I prepared to change the channel once Lester signed off. “We should watch the commercials more often.”
“I particularly was interested in the potential side effects of some of those drugs,” my wife added. “The disclaimers lasted longer than the benefits.”
She was referring to the low-key language of the nice gentleman who quietly announced that taking Xeljanz for rheumatoid arthritis, for instance, might cause upper respiratory tract infections, headache, diarrhea, yellowing of the skin or eyes, severe stomach pain, vomiting, skin rash and shortness of breath, among others.
“Yep, that was enlightening,” I said. “At least it isn’t known to possibly cause cancer and suicidal thoughts, like some of the other drug disclaimers.”
We both let out a loud sigh, and before I could change the channel, one last commercial came on, and it was a local feed. The wonders of Cache Creek Casino filled the screen.
“After watching depressing news and more depressing commercials, I guess they think you’re going to just gamble it all away in one wild weekend,” I said. “Well, they’re targeting the wrong crowd with us!”
I reached over and high-fived my healthy wife. Energized, I proudly changed the channel to the local news on KPIX and the first commercial came on. We watched it in silence, wide-eyed.
It was a commercial to call an 800number to receive two free booklets. The first was called “My Final Wishes,” and the second had the catchy title, “Nine Things Every Senior Needs to Know About Funerals.”
“NOOOOO!” I cried. “Doesn’t anyone under 55 watch the local news, either? I don’t want to be targeted anymore. I’ll never complain about a beer or car commercial again, I promise!”
My wife moved closer and patted me on the back as we glumly watched the commercial. It was from an insurance company trying to sell a $20,000 policy to cover funeral expenses. I don’t think the commercial will be up for a Clio award anytime soon.
In the span of 35 minutes, we had been targets of ads dealing with medical mayhem, financial ruin and, finally, death. It’s no wonder we were feeling a little like dinosaurs right before the Ice Age hit.
“We have two choices,” I announced as we watched a local news event. “The first choice is we never watch the news unless it’s on the DVR and we can fast forward the commercials.”
“What’s our second choice?” my wife asked.
“Order the two free booklets and then go to Cache Creek Casino and gamble our life away.”
Wisely, we chose the DVR.
The commercials on the evening news target decrepit, disease-ridden financial imbeciles like myself.