There’s a sucker born every minute

I am a self-proclaimed Queen of Skeptics, which is no small feat considering I am simultaneously the Queen of all Instagram ad Suckers.

Social media and, well, just the way things are going right now in the world, has me questioning almost everything I read. And yet, when technology has somehow eavesdropped on my conversation with family about being in search of the perfect sneaker, and then shows me hundreds of sneaker options the next time I go on Instagram, I believe the ads are there as answered prayers and I order the “perfect sneaker.” Which has got me wondering, if I’m cynical about news outlets and influencers and experts on podcasts, then why do I keep falling for ads?

A friend and I attended a sales party for essential oils more than a few years ago and she made a statement that has stayed with me: “I’m a sucker for a good sales pitch. If you’re throwing one of these home parties like Pampered Chef or Tupperware, I’m the one you want to invite!” She and I both purchased the top-of-the-line oil diffuser and essential oil assortment that evening.

According to a senior analyst at business.com, effective selling pinpoints the customer’s emotional needs; every buying decision is emotional before it becomes logical. This explains why I trust a testimonial by someone who seems a lot like me, and I commit to buying the product. It may or may not be a wonderful product, but I always think I have just come across the next great thing.

Earlier this year I saw an online ad for an indestructible teddy bear dog toy. The teddy bear was made of ballistic nylon, the same fabric that was developed for military flak jackets. Rugged enough to deflect shrapnel, but not rugged enough to withstand the teething of my German Shorthaired Pointer puppy. Twenty dollars gone in 20 minutes.

Recently I saw an ad for “the calming duck,” a yellow duck that my dog will love and will not destroy. Had I not learned my lesson from the teddy bear? But this duck ad was so convincing! I thought about it for a while, trying to convince my logical side to talk to my emotional side, but I ended up plunking down my credit card for the duck. At least this one had a 100-day money back guarantee. However, after my pup completely dismantled the duck and I contacted customer service for my money back, I was told that the guarantee is only for unused, unopened ducks. If a duck has been damaged by a dog, the best they can offer is a one-time replacement duck.

A trademark phrase of comedic genius and social critic George Carlin was, “Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist.” I can relate to that statement because I didn’t start out as a cynic; I’ve just been disappointed a lot. Case in point, so-called indestructible teddy bears and ducks. But Carlin’s assertion hints that the “disappointed idealist” is a person looking for truth and all things good. Carlin had hope, even though his comedy was dark.

But is cynicism the same as skepticism? My limited research in the behavioral sciences says no, the two words are not interchangeable. Jamil Zaki is a professor of psychology at Stanford University. In his book, “Hope for Cynics,” Zaki says, “Cynicism is a lack of faith in people; skepticism is a lack of faith in our assumptions. Cynics imagine humanity is awful; skeptics gather information about who they can trust.”

So just as I was prepared to announce a screeching halt to all online shopping, Zaki’s research-based assertion gives me hope. It’s not that all online ads are disingenuous, but rather that I should try to be a more hopeful skeptic and not react emotionally and impetuously. Maybe I can just vow to think a little more critically about what I’m reading before I click “Add to Cart.”

While I commit to scrutinizing companies whose ads tempt me, at least my pup has an ample supply of old tennis balls.