Marketing for Panhandlers

As my time in Tallahassee draws to a close (for now?), I have paused to reflect on the city and the ways in which it has contributed to my growth as a person. Or, if it has at all. This year has not been what I would call fun. Quite the opposite. In fact, if my years were measured in laughter, this year would rank on the bottom. That said, times of quiet difficulty generally allow for self-examination. I think we all have some ingrained reactions to stimuli that perhaps we’re not particularly proud of. One that I’ve noticed in myself is how I assess those less fortunate than me. Tallahassee has no shortage of individuals pleading for your spare change. For such a small city, it surprised me how frequently I was confronted for money. Since these individuals became a regular fixture in my intra-Tally travels, I started to measure their ability to garner actual donations. I’ve had to face the uncomfortable reality of my proclivity to judge in the process.

To digress for a moment, I’ve always been slightly fascinated and mildly disturbed by the concept of marketing. Frankly, I always found the venture to be a way in which we condone outright deception. I suppose the intent is to find a suitable market for your product. In its most high-minded form, you are simply presenting something that you believe your targeted audience either needs, or could derive benefit from. However, marketing more often seems like a socially acceptable form of manipulation.

Take my daughter for instance. We don’t have cable at home. Whenever we visit a home that does have cable, it isn’t the television programming that catches her eye – it is the commercials that are designed to lure her attention and ensnare her little desires. She sits transfixed by commercials and only breaks her attention to turn and squeal some semi-indecipherable plea for me to buy the product. The commercials employ pretty little girls, lots of sparkles, and the color pink. I’m pretty sure that if she saw a commercial in which two girls with curly pigtails and giant smiles were playing with a semi-automatic weapon that had been painted pink while glitter fell from the sky, she’d want that too.

So, point is – you have to know your audience and use psychology against them. The panhandlers of Tallahassee have taught me a thing or two about my own ingrained, admittedly selfish, psychology and by extension – what I can assume those around me must be thinking. In coming to this realization, I think I have devised some suggestions for more effective homeless marketing.

First, most people believe you only want to purchase liquor and cigarettes. Maybe even a little crack. While asking for funds, it is advisable that you not smoke or drink from a paper bag. Next, make sure you reach out to a market that is not already oversaturated. Diversify. When you are seen on the same street corner, day after sweltering Florida day, I will unwittingly make the assumption that if you can pound that pavement all day long, day after day, you can pound the pavement for employment. Also, put your best face forward. Many of us think you believe you’re entitled to a handout. Don’t look at us with disgust. Sure, you’re down and out. But express some good cheer and gratitude for those quarters we’ve got in the ashtray! Moreover, try a little refreshing honesty. Do I really believe you’re a veteran? Maybe. Hungry? I don’t know. Pull out that cardboard and marker and try this: “Honestly, a beer sounds good. Got a dollar?” or “If you don’t have any money, can I at least bum a smoke?”

I suppose I’m not completely serious about those. (Although, they may prove useful.) But they all stem from judgments I’ve made about these people, often without even really putting that much thought into it. Adults don’t respond to marketing tactics that involve sparkles and talking cartoon animals. Most of us need a message that resonates on a deeper level; that involves some core value or experience that we all share. I think adversity is something that most people understand. Clearly, these panhandlers are experiencing it. The thing is my knee-jerk reaction is to believe that their adversity is different because it is self-inflicted or the product of a weakness in character. Then again, how many of my own personal difficulties are the result of a similar dynamic? I wish I knew how best to help these people. I really don’t know the answer to that. I do know that as the intended audience of these pleas for compassion, it may not resonate with me because I lack that quality more than I’d like to admit.