"I can usually smell a scam from two towns over."
I’ve found a lot of scams while raising Abbie. Every business that makes a child-related product is eager to cajole me out of money using trickery and gifts. There’s the diaper scam, where the diaper conglomerates give me a couple free samples and some quasi-valuable coupons in the hopes that I won’t notice the generic diapers that are basically just as good sitting next to them on the shelves. That scam worked on me for Abbie, but the twins are getting generics.
There’s the “Next Step” formula scam, where the formula corporations, correctly sensing that I won’t buy their products after Abbie’s first birthday, use multiple fronts to guilt me into buying their formula for toddlers. They send super-valuable coupons so it appears more expensive to not buy their product. They send free samples making me feel indebted to their generosity. They send creepy literature filled with odd implications about cow’s milk like “Is your child getting enough iron, calcium, and VFL-NKJ? Only our formula contains the necessary VFL-NKJ for your child’s eye and brain development.” This scam worked on me, but only briefly.
There’s the educational toy scam, by which I mean LeapFrog toys. These are toys that proclaim themselves to be educational, but upon closer inspection turn out to just be sucky.
The latest scam I discovered came straight to my mailbox. I received an envelope with “Disney” in the return address area. At first I assumed this was one of the approximately 78,914,023,114 credit card offers we collect every week, this one offering special rewards good toward Disney paraphernalia if we’re willing to use their card for everyday purchases and live with a 24.99% APR.
I opened the envelope to determine which pages needed to be shred and which ones I could just throw away. After opening, I quickly discovered that it wasn’t a credit card offer, but a sales pitch for Abbie’s favorite things in the world: Books.* They’re selling a Winnie the Pooh book series, and they’re practically willing to give the stuff away at first, much like cigarette companies. If I agree to their terms, they will send me three books and a calendar for the price of one book! That’s only $8! Plus tax! With no further obligation! Unless I cancel, they’ll then send three more books a month for two months at the standard price! That’s only $24! Plus tax! With no further obligation! If I haven’t figured out how to cancel yet, they’ll then send the rest of the series, 30 books, at the standard price! That’s only $240! Plus tax! Payable in ten monthly installments because no one is dumb enough to blow $240 on children’s books in one sitting! With nothing left to buy! If I’m not completely satisfied with any of the titles I can return them for a full refund,** but that would be silly to do since the 39 books create a picture on their spine when lined up on a shelf.
I chuckled and threw the offer away, or at least I will as soon as I stop needing it as reference material for this post. $8 per book sounds outrageous to me since thet look like small board books that I’d pay no more than $5 for new, and less than a dollar for at a garage sale. If nothing else, the offer clears up a mystery. I found a series of Sesame Street alphabet books at a few garage sales, but always only the first three books in the series, “A,” “B,” and, uh … “C.” Common sense says this series goes well beyond three books, especially since the spines form a picture when lined up in order as do the back covers, but I never found more than those three books. I now believe this Sesame Street series was sold with the same scam used for the Winnie the Pooh series. The parents who bought these books received the first three titles for the price of one plus a special gift, possibly a calendar. Then, like any other rational parent, they realized they had just committed next month’s utilities budget to buying a ridiculously large set of books that their child would probably quickly rip the covers off of anyway.
It’s good to know I’m not the only person who sees through corporate treachery. I will not waste my money on ridiculously overpriced book sets, “educational” toys, name brand diapers, or “Next Step” formulas. Name brand formulas? Those are worth the extra money.
* No, not dog food. That’s her second favorite thing.
** I’m guessing; it says I can return them, but says nothing about a refund.
There’s the “Next Step” formula scam, where the formula corporations, correctly sensing that I won’t buy their products after Abbie’s first birthday, use multiple fronts to guilt me into buying their formula for toddlers. They send super-valuable coupons so it appears more expensive to not buy their product. They send free samples making me feel indebted to their generosity. They send creepy literature filled with odd implications about cow’s milk like “Is your child getting enough iron, calcium, and VFL-NKJ? Only our formula contains the necessary VFL-NKJ for your child’s eye and brain development.” This scam worked on me, but only briefly.
There’s the educational toy scam, by which I mean LeapFrog toys. These are toys that proclaim themselves to be educational, but upon closer inspection turn out to just be sucky.
The latest scam I discovered came straight to my mailbox. I received an envelope with “Disney” in the return address area. At first I assumed this was one of the approximately 78,914,023,114 credit card offers we collect every week, this one offering special rewards good toward Disney paraphernalia if we’re willing to use their card for everyday purchases and live with a 24.99% APR.
I opened the envelope to determine which pages needed to be shred and which ones I could just throw away. After opening, I quickly discovered that it wasn’t a credit card offer, but a sales pitch for Abbie’s favorite things in the world: Books.* They’re selling a Winnie the Pooh book series, and they’re practically willing to give the stuff away at first, much like cigarette companies. If I agree to their terms, they will send me three books and a calendar for the price of one book! That’s only $8! Plus tax! With no further obligation! Unless I cancel, they’ll then send three more books a month for two months at the standard price! That’s only $24! Plus tax! With no further obligation! If I haven’t figured out how to cancel yet, they’ll then send the rest of the series, 30 books, at the standard price! That’s only $240! Plus tax! Payable in ten monthly installments because no one is dumb enough to blow $240 on children’s books in one sitting! With nothing left to buy! If I’m not completely satisfied with any of the titles I can return them for a full refund,** but that would be silly to do since the 39 books create a picture on their spine when lined up on a shelf.
I chuckled and threw the offer away, or at least I will as soon as I stop needing it as reference material for this post. $8 per book sounds outrageous to me since thet look like small board books that I’d pay no more than $5 for new, and less than a dollar for at a garage sale. If nothing else, the offer clears up a mystery. I found a series of Sesame Street alphabet books at a few garage sales, but always only the first three books in the series, “A,” “B,” and, uh … “C.” Common sense says this series goes well beyond three books, especially since the spines form a picture when lined up in order as do the back covers, but I never found more than those three books. I now believe this Sesame Street series was sold with the same scam used for the Winnie the Pooh series. The parents who bought these books received the first three titles for the price of one plus a special gift, possibly a calendar. Then, like any other rational parent, they realized they had just committed next month’s utilities budget to buying a ridiculously large set of books that their child would probably quickly rip the covers off of anyway.
It’s good to know I’m not the only person who sees through corporate treachery. I will not waste my money on ridiculously overpriced book sets, “educational” toys, name brand diapers, or “Next Step” formulas. Name brand formulas? Those are worth the extra money.
* No, not dog food. That’s her second favorite thing.
** I’m guessing; it says I can return them, but says nothing about a refund.
posted by Matt at
10:39 PM
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