I make mistakes all the time. As the father of young children I'm always being too easy going or too strict. My sleep deprived mind often puts the milk back in the cupoard and the teabags in the fridge.
I've never specialised in sampling but in there were times when I ran the UK's largest radio promotions agency that the prospect using of radio station's sampling crews proved too easy a win for a client who was promoting on that radio station. Seduced by the promise of genuine interaction with the local public who were so in love with their station that they would happily accept a sample and think all the better of the brand despite the tenuous link between brands.
Generally it was a happy mariage with everyting from soft drinks to hard liquor changed hands through a roving station crew and an eager public.
Not this time though. Tasked with neatly placing a sachet on each seat at the football ground the station assured us that they had permission and had done it loads of time. We took them on trust. There's a mistake i didnt make ever again.
The client happened to be in town and happened to see the sampling experts in action, dumping box upon box of their product in bins, behind doors and just generally misbehaving with the samples.
Needless to say this didnt go down at all well although the client let us off the hook, blaming quite rightly the station's appalling practice but this was many years ago before digital channels kicked in, before the sophistication of sampling increased exponentially.
I've always thought that actually the concept of face to face sampling is quite simple in theory Pick the right time of day, the right area where your target will be and give em the sample. Be cheery, flirtatious even wear the brands colours with pride, enhance their day and get them to sample the brand no?
Well i'd have liked to see the client's face if they's experienced what I experienced earlier this week at Baker Street Station. I was ambling in thinking about some aspect of the day to come and was confronted by an unshaven frankly thug like looking guy dressed all in black with a plastic bag in one hand and a handful of sachets in another....
"Hot sauce!!"
He bellowed at me.
"Sorry" I said, slightly startled thinking he was promoting some completely different service
"Sample! Hot Sauce!"
"Er no thanks, I'm fine"
and off I went slightly disturbed, completely unaware of the brand he was forcing on me but generally feeling unkindly to any make of hot sauce yoo could think of. It was 8am. Hot Sauce?
AS I walked through the station heading towards the Met line there was another one, much gentler looking but atill all dressed in black, no branding but the ubiquitous white plastic bag.
He was appealing slightly pathetically to passers by.
"Sample.....hot sauce sample....sample"
I dont know about you but when someone says 'sample' out loud it conjures an image of a wholly different type of sauce I would not be keen to put on my jerk chicken.
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