Every week I amuse myself by conversion testing the weekly sandwich email at work using the very un-scientific method of testing whatever.
A few insights I have gleaned over time:
- Short emails with just the words “order now” work less well than an email with a joke in there.
- Emails sent closer to lunch (either side) convert less than emails sent at 4pm when everyone is feeling hungry again.
- Telling people they are going to die from eating red meat or talking about the horrible deaths of animals has no effect on conversions.
- emails tied to events like staff parties or worldwide events such as the world cup convert better than those that are not.
- Subject lines make little difference unless you completely obscure the fact that this is the weekly sandwich email then conversion drops
- More people like bacon than sausage. Not an innuendo, just a fact.
This week was my magnum opus, I went full-on Woot-style with a bit of long form copy. I’d be a fool to try and top this and so I won’t, I’m running out of ideas anyways:
As some of you may be aware, young Arron suffered a terrible injury to his leg on Tuesday when Mickey proper booted his legs in during some sort of organised ball kicking game.
Being a great friend I went to LGI last night to visit him. As I got there he’d just woken from surgery, flanked as he was by his girlfriend, doctors & porters. I could hear the kerfuffle from down the hall.
“what’s going on?” I asked as I approached
“We had to take the leg” the Doctor told me
“You had to take the leg?”
“We had to take the leg”, the doctor repeated “This poor lad had a severe deficiency of essential nutrients, it looks like he hadn’t been eating enough red meats which provide the necessary proteins and amino acids the body needs to rebuild itself after a trauma like this”
“Christ” I said as I sat down “so, if he’d eaten more bacon sandwiches he’d still have both legs?”
“Exactly” he said, shaking his head “it’s an all too common story, but it never gets the press so no one knows about it”
“I understand” I said, sadness tinged my voice, “but why have you left the amputated leg beside him? Bit cruel innit?”
“New government policy I’m afraid: hate the poor, torture the sick. Bloody tory government”
I’d stopped listening, to cheer Arron up I’d picked up the leg and started swinging it around the room, making lightsaber noises as it swung.
Arron started to cry. “Why didn’t I just order more bacon sandwiches on Thursday?”
“Dunno” I said, “the choice was there. The impetuousness of youth I suppose”
Vaaaaawom, Vaaaaawom. His cries got louder, dunno why, maybe it was the pain.
“At least you’ve still got Syd” I said as I gestured over to his girlfriend. She was leaving with a young porter who was proudly still sporting a symmetrical set of limbs.
“Do you think it will grow back?” he asked me.
I put the leg down. The doctor and I just looked at each other. Who would break his little heart this time?
Dear reader (you’re still reading this? Do some work!), I think the moral of the story is fairly unambiguous here. Can you imagine yourself, lying there, knowing you didn’t order that bacon sandwich? Knowing if you had ordered a bacon sandwich everything would be perfect, everything would be okay and you’d be a little more healthy than you were on a Thursday?
Arron asked me to share this story with you so you don’t make the same mistake he did: order your hot sandwich now. In memory of Arron if nothing else.