I’ll be blunt. I could tolerate it at first but now it hits me like a three-week-old can of worms stored in a hot car.
Even now, the mere mention of it causes my stomach to gurgle. In fact, I can barely get through this little rant because I know I will eventually have to use what I have come to consider the most dreaded acronym ever invented in the English language.
You might react normally because, apparently, this terrible illness seems to affect only a small minority of the population: just me.
I’ll be brave, just this once. This is the cause of my illness (gulp, you asked for it): BOGO
Luckily for you this is not a speech. I left my laptop just now for 30 minutes but you didn’t even notice. I can’t help it. BOGO makes me vomit.
I don’t know who created this advertising gem but BOGO, aka Buy One, Get One, seems to have pervaded the world of marketing deeper – and far more sickeningly – than Covid 19.
I kid you not.
Go to a shoe store or a clothing store, or even a convenience store that sells those Styrofoam cans of fishing worms. You’ll likely see the signs everywhere you go: Buy One, Get One!
You’ve heard it on the radio as you eat your morning BOGO bagel or even watched it on the television, during your daytime television dramas: BOGO BOGO BOGO!
It was just mildly nauseating at first. Now, it’s turned into a full-blown disease or some strange disorder: my throat constricts without warning, regardless of where I am as if I’m in a Hulk Hogan chokehold, forced to inhale into his hairy, sweaty armpits. My stomach clenches, locked and loaded like a digestive Gatling Gun, and I suffer projectile vomiting right onto the sales floor.
It's like smelling Kid Rock’s hat. On that note, I don’t know what’s more sickening to behold, Kid Rock or the hat he never takes off.
Salespeople don’t like me much any more, a feeling, I assure you, that has become rather mutual since the early days of BOGO.
And much like Covid, BOGO has mutated. First it was Buy One, Get One Free. But insidiously, it can now mean Buy One, Get One Half Off. Or 25% off. Or even just 10% off. Has everyone joined the BOGO Yuck Yuck Club but me?
My stupid doctor thought I was crazy at first, until he tested me without warning by yelling BOGO, BOGO, BOGO! in my face ten times. I also, without warning, vomited on his pristine examination room carpeting after the first two BOGOs.
“You are a very sick man,” he said and sighed, asking his receptionist to send in the next patient. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There is no cure for your illness. You must stay out of those retail stores from now on and, henceforth, only shop online.”
So now, I – man who once despised online shopping – suddenly sees Amazon as my personal lifeline. I’ve seen no BOGOs on there yet. Gulp.
These days, I have become quite the little online shopper, sitting each day in my living room sipping red wine and shopping till I drop. Online shopping has become what is known as another mildly nauseating marketing standard, but fortunately just slightly more palatable: My One-Stop Shop. No vomit, no guilt and everybody wins. Ahem.
Mind you, I had hoped for more creativity from today’s marketing professionals but maybe I’m a tough sell or an old hack.
I did experience a minor epiphany recently, though: If a retailer can give away free items, then is the second item worthless or is the first item worthless? Is the retailer simply using this BOGO to reel me in like a big fish full of dollars or do retailers derive some sick pleasure from losing money?
Meanwhile, you never see a BOGO deals on cars or houses, or booze. Why is that?
One thing is certain: before you open that second can of worms you got for FREE three weeks ago, remember that BOGO worms sometimes die in the summer heat, even if BOGO does prove to be immortal.
