Sunday, September 27, 2020

Don't buy wine from a Facebook ad

 


I almost fell for it, my friends. The ubiquitous Facebook ad. I almost completed the order.  I took the fucking quiz. I even gave out my information: email, address, phone number. I was one click away from PayPal with my finger on the button when I noticed. The price for my six bottles of wine was not $29.95 as the ad promised. It was $39.95. I heard the voice of reason in my head, Back away from the cheap wine with the free delivery. It's another scam. Yes, even at $39.95 it's a reasonable price for 6 bottles plus free shipping, but that's not the fucking price they said it would be in the ad!

I closed the window.

And then the emails started coming in. Every single day the offer for 6 bottles of wine for $3.33/bottle plus free shipping. I deleted them. And then I got the email from Philip James, who claims to be the founder of the company, and I couldn't resist answering him. I mean, how often do you get to go straight to the office on the top floor without even asking? Here's my letter to Philip James, founder of Firstleaf wines, along with my warning to you: Don't be tempted by the Facebook ads. In fact, add the Facebook Purity extension to your Chrome browser and you'll never have to see another Facebook ad again.

Here's the thing, Philip James. I went to your site from Facebook where your ad offered 6 bottles of wine for $29.95. I went through the entire quiz, but when I got to the checkout, I was going to be charged $39.95, a price that, while fair, certainly isn't what was advertised. That extra $10 caused my trust in your company, and I suppose in you, Philip James, to plummet. I returned to Facebook where I commented on my experience. Someone from Firstleaf responded a couple of days later and told me I should contact your customer service. I don't think that's really my responsibility, do you, Philip James? I suspect a good number of people just went ahead and paid $10 more, either because they didn't remember what the cost was supposed to be or because they didn't notice the price difference, or because of reasons I'm not willing to worry about myself. Good for you if you can squeeze 10 extra dollars from unsuspecting and trusting new customers. Excellent scam, and then they'll find themselves subscribed to a much more expensive subscription service as well. I see what you're doing there.

I am not one of those customers though. I do not trust you now. I do not believe you will sell me 6 bottles of wine for $3.33/bottle and live up to your guarantee that I will like them or you will .... I don't know. Refund my three bucks and change? Send me a different brand and try again? I didn't read the fine print. I don't for a minute believe in your promises. I wish I did. I do love my wine. A smooth, chilled buttery Chardonnay paired with a bag of Lays potato chips can make me absolutely giddy. Almost better than sex, am I right? Although why choose? I even write about my love of wine on my blog in posts titled "If we were sharing a bottle of wine ...." During the pandemic, several of my more loving friends have dropped off a bottle or two of Chardonnay on my front porch because they would hate for me to run out. Alas, the pity is that I have run out -- hence my stupid foray to your website from Facebook. Never trust a Facebook ad, Philip James. Learn from my experience. I can live without wine much easier than I can live with being scammed though. I adore it, but I'm not married to it.

So much as I would love to pay you $3.33/bottle for 6 bottles of wine and find them eventually delivered for free to my front door -- Sweet Jesus who made the water into wine, that is a first-world luxury! -- something doesn't smell quite right here. This is my long way of telling you I'm going to have to put a cork into our relationship, in spite of your tempting offers.

Cheers,
Reticula


And that, my friends, is that. I'll never learn if Philip James, founder of Firstleaf, did indeed choose the most delectable $3.33 bottles of wine I've ever gulped sipped. I'll never answer my door and sign for those six bottles of freely shipped wine and chill one down to drink with a bowl of buttered popcorn on my porch some cool early fall eve, possible with a socially distanced friend. I am, in fact, drinking water and looking forward to watching my boyfriend James Spader in an episode of Blacklist after I hit publish on this post, which will probably be about as exciting as it gets around here for a while.

How about you? Any Facebook ad experiences? Ever fall for a ModCloth ad? Some exciting new tool that costs 1/3 the price on Amazon? Ever tried to get a decent color of Overtone, only to find out all the good colors are always sold out? What's your Facebook ad story?

Maybe I should buy my own Facebook ad. I'll offer to write angry letters to Facebook scammers for .... let's start at $25 for the first letter and $40 after that for the monthly epistolary subscription. I think I've found my niche.

Have typewriter, will rant.

You know you want it. So will your friends and relatives. Think ahead. Christmas is coming and you won't even have to put on your mask and leave your house. I'll run a special special just for readers. You are welcome. Cheers. XOXO