Scene One: Inside a Hospital

NOT so long ago, I accompanied a friend to one of the private hospitals in Petaling Jaya where his elderly parent was critically ill. It was a late night call and when we arrived at the foyer of the hospital it was well past midnight. There was no one else at the waiting area except for a young man, not much older than the average college boy, who looked like he had been waiting there for some time. As soon as he saw us walking through the main sliding doors of the hospital, that young man quickly got out of his seat and approached us. What do you think he wanted to talk to us about? For sure, it was not about the lateness of the night nor the best porridge supper available around the corner. He was very keen to talk to us about letting him handle the funeral arrangements! No, he was not a coffin seller per se; he was probably just an agent who would get a small commission if he could get us to buy a coffin from the people he represented.

The coffin boy followed us right into the elevators; talking about a ‘special offer’ his company happened to be having. You know what his selling point was? His selling point was that it was not good for the corpse of our beloved one be taken to the hospital mortuary because so many corpses had passed through that place that it was full of ‘bad spirits’, but if we accepted his services, he would make sure that the corpse of our loved one would be transferred straight out of the hospital to the place of our choice without staying even for a minute at the mortuary. My, I could imagine many grieving people responding with, “Oh, no need to stay in the morgue? You sure you can do that for us?”

Scene Two: Outside the EPF office

Lately, I had a reason to go to the EPF (Employees Provident Fund) head office in Petaling Jaya. Arriving there, I was pleased to notice a number of things: the waiting area was spacious, brightly lit, well organised, and comfortable (with the air conditioners working at the correct temperature). The counter staff were courteous and pleasant to talk to. As soon as I left the main hall, however, I was approached by a smartly dressed young man (I noticed he was a member of a small team of smartly dressed young people who had discreetly stationed themselves just outside the waiting hall) who wanted to talk to me about investing in unit trusts.

I suppose they had stationed themselves just outside the waiting hall so that they would not be considered officially inside the EPF premises and thus risked being chased out for soliciting. They made their moves on people who came out of the waiting hall, especially those who wore a smile of satisfaction on their faces presumably having just been told by the EPF staff that their application forms had been accepted and their money would be transferred to their bank accounts within a week or two (wouldn’t you be smiling too in their position?).

The reason why the unit trust people stationed themselves at the EPF office was not difficult to fathom. Couple that with the ‘first bird gets the worm’ mantra, they wanted to be the first to offer what they felt was a good investing opportunity to people who were about to have their bank accounts fattened. Their colleagues were probably manning booths at departmental stores and outside supermarkets in the city, also promoting unit trusts, but the chances of meeting a potential unit trust investor at such places would be considerably less than outside the EPF office.

What is the difference between the unit trust consultant and the young coffin boy (and I don’t mean one wears a shirt, tie and pants while the other a

t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans)? There are more similarities than differences, actually. Both are trying to clinch a deal, both need the commission to survive, both give out their business cards, and both will probably ‘pursue’ you relentlessly, but the most important similarity is that both zoom in on their potential customers at the places where there are high percentages of people who need their services most.

You most certainly would not find the coffin boy trying to offer you a funeral package outside the cinema as you finish your movie (not even if the movie was ‘Doomsday’ or ‘End of the World’) nor at the food courts as you tuck into your favourite curry fish head (unless it is the puffer fish that you are eating). Similarly, you would not find the unit trust consultant approaching punters outside the race course on race days.

On the same score, no wonder then that one is always approached by young people promoting credit cards at departmental stores, home makers selling cakes at coffee shops, people promoting engine coolants or windscreen cleaning liquids at gas stations, girls promoting the latest variety of coffee at supermarkets, men selling lottery tickets almost anywhere, and tow truck operators (immediately appearing) at accident scenes! Having said that, what about life insurance people? Where should they station themselves for the ‘best kill’? My life insurance buddy said he might think about hanging outside maternity wards or baby viewing rooms (”Congratulations, sir! May I offer you a life insurance policy for your kid?”)

No lottery ticket seller would want to approach accident victims standing next to their wrecked vehicles with the “your luck is bound to change, brother” line, and I have yet to come across any coffin boy approaching miserable losers coming out of a casino.

These days, many of these promoters go one level up in their marketing strategies; they display actual samples of their products at the time and place of their promotion. Not unusually then, housewives and their accompanying husbands can get a sip of the latest Arabica coffee or a sample of Campbell’s latest mushroom soup at the supermarkets, both freshly prepared. Fifty feet away, they get to taste a sample of the latest product from the makers of Ribena. A credit card promoter once showed me a sample of a trolley bag that he said I would get immediately upon approval of my application. People are not just told that they could win a Toyota Camry as the first prize in a lucky draw if they signed up; they get to view an actual brand-new well polished Camry that has been placed right there.

Thus, the lesson that we learn from the coffin boy and the unit trust consultant is that it does not matter so much what one markets. What matters is the best place where he ‘captures’ his potential customers together with a timely display of a sample of their products.

Having said that, however, the day has not come yet when the coffin boy displays an actual coffin to grieving relatives about to visit their critically sick parents.