Magic, Minipulation, and a Mouse
Language is the primary means by which we externalize and communicate the ideas and intentions formed within our minds. We rely on it to communicate, persuade, inform, connect, and create. Every person has the potential to fall for a sales pitch, even one they know is a marketing ploy. The key is understanding the intricacies of human behavior. Effective persuasion, like electricity, follows the path of least resistance, traveling on existing desires, assumptions, and emotional triggers. That’s precisely what happened when I started inquiring about a Disney vacation for my family. What began as harmless curiosity became a crash course in The Art of the Deal. This wasn’t just a pitch—it was a story. Somewhere between nostalgia and the price drop, I found myself buying a dream dressed up as a deal.
Initially, I believed Disney Vacations were beyond our reach as a family of six. At the same time, I was browsing the Camp Lejune Game Stop stock for collectibles with my wife and two-year-old son. Curiosity was the catalyst that led me to walk into the base travel agency next door. I knew businesses give deals to military members, so I figured the House of Mouse might extend some cheese to those in the Department of Defence. In my experience from previous vacation offers, they offer these lower prices to break up crowds with less-than-ideal backgrounds or when there are vacancies to fill for tax write-offs. Nevertheless, I swung open those doors and walked in, expecting a sales pitch. When I was greeted, it wasn’t about how much I wanted to spend but how I wanted my family to remember our trip. It was at this time I knew I got sucked into a whirlpool of sophisticated social engineering. I knew I did not want to be someone’s built-in off-duty security presence. For the price I knew I’d be paying, I didn’t want to end up with a complete package deal with vague promises and underwhelming deliverance.
Of course, any half-decent parent would want to give their kids a fantastic memory to look back on. I knew where this was going. My expectations for the experience I wanted my kids to experience were high, which meant my wallet had to match the same height. Immediately, I was pulled into the travel agent’s reminiscent childhood memory of their trip to Disney World, assuring it was a life-changing and magical experience that was cherished, one that they can remember taking their kids to when they were younger. I remember thinking the emotional appeal would be the first out of the gate. It’s never about what the product does for you. It’s always about how it makes you feel.
Disney never lowers their prices, and in the last decade, the prices have only increased.” They said.
Boom! That was the call to action, a sense of urgency instilled in someone to act before something is lost.
I took a moment to pause, and I remember thinking, Disney never lowers its prices. Logically, that made sense, and the data supported that statement. Here it was, the logical appeal—the follow-up when emotion is not strong enough to make your client jump.
“You know, if you put down $200, you can lock in that price and pay it up to a year out. You’re good as long as you have it paid off a month before your trip,” they said.
Our eyes met, and then I followed their gaze to my wife, who was practically already standing and ready to jump onto the mousetrap for a taste of the cheese! Their target was never me. It was my wife! It was my grave miscalculation; rookie mistake! This is why they make you bring someone else to any sales pitch, even better if it’s another financial decision-maker of the same household. The crumbs laid through the forest weren’t for me. They were for my wife! At the same time, they were slinging statistics, price points, locations, and packages. They were selling a dream, a promise of a memory to be cherished for years to come, based on a product you can’t compare to anything else. Let’s be honest; there’s nothing like Disney.
A young military couple walked in the door, breaking my concentration from the banter going at light speed. Ever-increasing in velocity as the excitement welled up in my wife’s voice. The travel agent’s eyes met the newcomers. They politely excused themselves and greeted them at the door. Talking slightly above conversational tone, inquired about their recent Disney World trip, and asked if they had come to book a second. It turns out that if you book your next Disney trip within seven days, you get a discount. It’s called a rebound discount. I rolled my eyes. This was orchestrated and not coincidental! I remember thinking of the credibility ploy: create it if you don’t have it. She then quickly added them to a scheduled phone call for later today, and they were going out the door. They returned to her desk and asked if my wife had ever been to Disney World. My wife recalled when she went with her parents as a kid. It was then that I knew that booking this trip was inevitable.
I was impressed with the travel agent. Honestly, I couldn’t even be mad. They had danced through the battlefield with a sword and struck a lethal blow. Masterfully, they crafted a vision to seduce my wife with promises of grandeur and delight. Then, I knew I could stonewall any sales pitch, but there was no way in hell I could stonewall my wife. At that point, I realized that anybody can fall victim to a sales pitch. Everybody has a weak point—a soft spot in their armor. For some, it’s their kids. For others, nostalgia. For me, it’s my wife; when the right pinky gets pressed hard enough, even the strongest holdouts can cave. Therefore, I no longer bring her along regarding financial decisions. This made me an impervious wall until I saw a 3-D printer online last week… that promised creations of grandeur, and I knew I had to have it.
