Value

Let's talk about value for a minute.

In all exchanges, social, romantic and financial included, there is at least an implied transaction. You get something you want, and I get something I want. You pay your taxes, maybe we'll come when you dial 911. You rub my feet, I'll scratch your back. You pay your bill, the phone will work when you need it to call 911.

Transaction.

So when I sign up for an online newsletter for a television personality or musician, it's because I aniticipate value in the mailing. Tour dates, television appearance schedules, maybe some sort of "club member" discount, you get the idea.

All I get from any of these dinks is pure commercial advertising. "Buy my latest CD," "buy my clothing line," "spend money now!" Do I get a note when you've updated your much-neglected blog, which I do value? Do I get advance notice, discounted pricing, behind-the-scenes content or interviews that other pedestrian jerks who aren't on your spamletter list don't get? No? Then you're doing it wrong.

Look, I know you've gotta make a buck; hell, so do I. The difference is, when I make a buck, somebody gets something out of it. I earn it. And I also know that signing up for your fan club or newsletter mailing isn't heavy lifting; I don't expect a medal. But it does hold value for you. If I know when you'll be in town, or when you're on the tube next, I'll natter to my friends about it. Hell, I might even go out of my way to see you. That's what you get out of it, but you've got to come across. Don't just flood me with your blatant, commercial propaganda. Remember when big shots pretended to care about their fans, the little people? Make it worth my while and throw me a bone every now and then. Until then, I'm out.

It's the least you can do.