Get Thee Behind Me, Disco Duck!

I hate splash pages. I hate being held hostage. The topic came up recently on the “Information Systems Forum” listserv. It’s a listserv of diverse participants, gracefully managed by the indefatigable Deborah Elizabeth Finn.

The question was: “Are splash pages effective.” I thought about it for a few days and I posted a response. Michael Gilbert (who I think of as my own personal Perry White) suggested I repost my response here, on the Diner. (I think he’s worried that I haven’t posted much stuff in the last few months. Not to worry Michael, it was just a dry spell caused by excessive time travel.)

On this particular list, the recent conversations have drifted into the rights and wrongs of collecting (and using) personal information (like one’s birthday) for fundraising, and, more recently, the efficacy of “splash” pages — especially by nonprofits. While musing over the thread, I was reminded by an early example — a pre-internet example — of an attempt to hold an audience hostage.

You’ll find my original post below, (slightly edited and embellished to make me look more thoughtful):

I’m equal opportunity: I hate pop-ups, pop-unders, pop-overs, fly-bys, and those cutesy floating windows too. Oh, and those “Do you want to take our survey” windows, I hate them too. Most of the time, if I can, I ignore them.

To be honest, I think, quite frankly, so does everyone else. Bottom line, if I can’t ignore such things — worse, if they try to hold me hostage — I’ll probably never return.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out how advertizing on web pages actually results in anything but ad sales to Google. In all truthfulness, I can’t even remember “seeing” the ads on most pages. My mind has learned to filter them out. Strangely, with hardcopy magazines, the adverts are half the fun of reading.

Quite on the side: It reminds me that there is a not-so-subtle schizophrenia to today’s internets — a crazy wackiness that seems to pit us against ourselves. It’s everywhere. It’s the ongoing drive to, on one hand, figure out how all this stuff might pay for itself, juxtaposed, on the other hand, with the almost universal hatred of all the ways people try to make this stuff pay for itself.

Sometimes the madness manifests itself in a particular ironic fashion. My favorite example is the use of banner ads to advertize software designed to stop banner ads. Clearly, there is a particular self-loathing paradox to that concept.

Even more clearly, there is some sort of dynamic tension between free and not free. Moreover, it’s a tension that manifests itself in the seemingly endless conversations about “monetization” that sneaks into the otherwise idealism of the bevy of entrepreneurs-two-dot-oh. I don’t have an answer, but I can tell you that the answer is definitely not irritating your members, customers, constituents, or patrons. There lies madness.

Here’s my example: It was the late 70’s. It was the pledge drive on KPFT – the Houston (Texas) Pacifica station I listened to (religiously) in graduate school.  It was a rather wild and unruly radio station.  I loved it.  Until.  That day.  That fateful day.

One day, that day, someone got the wise idea of holding the listeners ransom – they decided to play “Disco Duck” nonstop until they hit their pledge goals.

Now, rest assured, I have tremendous tolerance, and as a grad student, I was known to listen to just about anything from Neal Diamond, to Mott the Hoople, on through Coltrane, and Monk, and Miles, and to the gravely grumbles of Tom Waits, and beyond, to Zappa (turned up so loud that the nails would pop out of drywall…) all politely tempered with Elvis Costello (Elvis is King)… and, well, I admit it, maybe a little Little Feat… It was Texas, after all. (No Manilow, and for gawd’s sake, no Debby Boone — one has to draw the line somewhere.)

but…  but… but… Disco Duck … nonstop Disco Duck! Oh, the humanity.

To me, splash screens – especially ones that force you to watch some piece of, ahem… content… Well, they’re a bit like Disco Duck, played nonstop.

My rule is never, ever, ever, put a barrier between your members, customers, disciples, acolytes, or whatever, and the silver plate. Being alienated or irritating does not make you friends, and, IMHO, it most definitely does not raise money. Raising money is about message, involvement, community, and — lord love a duck —follow-on action.  At best, people learn to ignore the silly and irritating tricks (maybe they unconsciously start humming “Disco Duck” too often), at worst they hate you and never come back again.

Years later, when working with a member cooperative, I was reminded of similar mistakes made by the early food-coop movement. Someone, somewhere, came up with the hair-brained idea that members of a food-coop should volunteer time working — shinning the crystals, pricing cheese curd, or just pressing the tofu. Whoever it was should be bonked on the head, repeatedly, with a loaf of organic spelt hippy-bread.

Luckily, that thinking has gone the way of disco. But, it’s still a classic (and painful) example of creating an unneeded barrier between you and a sale, a member, a donation, or whatever. Good fundraising is about breaking down the barriers, not putting up new, technological ones. Keep the duck, and the splash, in the tub (with the fat man and the blues) where it belongs.