Portal de Periódicos da CAPES

On a Personal Note

2004; Lippincott Williams & Wilkins; Volume: 114; Issue: Supplement Linguagem: Inglês

10.1097/00006534-200410001-00101

1529-4242

Robert M. Goldwyn,

Angus Alphonse Alabaster, M.D., known as Triple A to his intimates, had just come from an unpleasant meeting with his accountant. “Old Sharp Eyes,” as Triple A called him, had chastised him severely for the “excessive—foolishly excessive” cost of advertising. “You will end up being the best known plastic surgeon around but the only bankrupt one.” Alabaster disliked being rebuked, but it did not surprise him. The monthly fees that his publicists, Shout, Shriek, and Scream, charged would be a burden for even some of the smaller nations in the U.N. And his other expenses were mounting. He had to do something, but what? The answer came to him at dinner. Lucy, his 14-year-old, told her parents and her younger brother that her teacher had put a notice on the Internet to get pen pals in France for those who wanted to improve their language skills. Lucy and her classmates would write in French and their correspondents would reply in English. Proper care would be taken to ensure that every communication was legitimate—without risk of exploitation or something worse. “Mrs. Growlly,” Lucy continued, “thought that this would be quicker than putting a personal notice in a French paper.” As his daughter chatted on, a momentous event was happening in Alabaster’s mind, even though he looked vacant. The phrase “personal notice” reverberated in his cranium. Arousing someone’s interest by this means was surely not the province only of teenagers, young lovers, or lonely widows. By the time his wife had served dessert, Alabaster had formed his plan. The next day, Triple A called his office staff together: “I have asked you to assemble because of a serious problem. Do not look so frightened. I believe I have a simple solution. As some of you know, I met with our accountant yesterday and he told me in no uncertain terms that we are spending too much, far too much, for marketing (AAA hated the word “advertising.”). We must adopt another method, and I know which one. It is ingenious even if I have to say so (modesty was never his style). To put it briefly and clearly, we do not need to remain victims of financial homicide to reach the public. My idea is elegant in its simplicity: I propose that we use the Internet and the personal columns of selected newspapers and magazines to talk about what we can do for people. Naturally, we would write these notices ourselves without signing our real names. As there are six of us in this office, including myself, we can generate many, many personals. Each of you will enlist friends and family to send in a personal notice. Of course, this office will pay the cost, which will be considerably less than the extortion that Shout, Shriek, and Scream demand. Let me read you a few examples that I composed last night. These are not the final drafts. I am sure you could do as well or better” (not believing that anyone could). “Thank you, AAA, M.D., for the magnificent plastic surgery performed on my prematurely sagging face. Now I know true happiness.” — A grateful Betty B. “My wife and I will be forever in your debt, Dr. AAA” (he will have to change that unfortunate wording, he realizes). “No more bags under our eyes to apologize for. Nobody tells us that we look tired because now we are full of life and our eyes show it.” — Irma and Jack F. “Dr. AAA, you took my nose, which looked like a turnip, and transformed it into something normal and beautiful in its own way. My friends and I extol your talents.” — Lars D. “Dear Reader, do not fear liposuction. I had it and I have a new profile and am about to be a bride—all because of the unsurpassed talents of Dr. AAA. For more information, write M.M., PO Box 777.” “Rejuvenation is just a phone call away. Let Dr. AAA help you as he did me and all my friends and family.” — Joyce J. “Thanks to you, AAA, M.D., there are full-length mirrors once more in my house.” — Thelma Full-Monty Dr. Alabaster continued: “One or two of these personals every couple of weeks for a year or so, spread around in the right places, should bring us all the patients we need. Remember, we are not misleading anyone. We are simply alerting the public to what could be an overlooked national resource for physical and emotional self-improvement. It would be selfish, in fact, if we did not tell people about what we can do for them. Any questions? Yes, Mercedes?” “Dr. Alabaster, forgive me, but it seems to me that it is misleading to make up names and to pretend that they are real people, real patients.” “Mercedes, you are taking too narrow a view of these personals. We are using pseudonyms for people who do not exist and therefore nobody can be harmed.” Mercedes remained silent, stymied by Alabaster’s masterful display of the illogical. “Brenda, you had your hand up.” “Yes, Dr. AAA. How do you know that readers will figure out you are the plastic surgeon mentioned in the personal ad?” “Brenda, you may be right. I thought that my initials AAA, along with M.D. and the fact that I am a plastic surgeon would be sufficiently unique so that prospective patients could find me. However, I can add our city. I really do not like to be so crass as to say specifically Boston, so I will add after AAA, M.D. “home of the Red Sox and Celtics.” A few extra words would cost a little bit more but far less than what we are paying our public relations firm. Gustave, you have a question?” “Yes, Dr. AAA. What kind of magazines do you have in mind for these personals?” “I have to work this out and probably get some advice. I had in mind in addition to the Internet and chat groups leading fashion magazines as well as the alumni-alumnae publications from all the Ivy League colleges. Also—and not to be forgotten—are those monthlies for body-builders.” Dr. AAA looked around. There were no more questions. “If anyone has something further, please let me know. Let’s all return to work. Please bring me by the end of this week names of friends and relatives who would be willing to submit a personal. I would hope that each of you would think of at least 10 or 12 people.” A year later, Triple A was again closeted with his accountant. “Well, Doc, you took what I said seriously and you have admirably cut the cost of advertising. I know you do not like the word but that is what it is. But now you have tripled your staff and you have added three associates. In essence, you have succeeded too well and you are again in a financially precarious position. As I see it, you have two choices: Turn off the spigot to cut down the flow of patients by stopping the personals. This will decrease your staff and associates and the expenses, or—and I think you should consider this seriously—sell your practice and work for whoever buys it.”