Germany and, indeed, the European Union are astoundingly pro-consumer from an American’s perspective. Companies are required to send their customers snail-mail copies of announcements related to contract changes, for instance. This helps consumers sue more easily. Comparative advertising is all but expressly forbidden. Comparative ads must pass a pretty rigorous 7-part test if they are to be allowed on the air. If an illegal advertisement runs, then even the vehicle who ran it gets in trouble. If you write “Keine Werbung bitte” (“No ads, please”) on your mailbox, then the mail deliverer is not allowed to leave promotional materials with you. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, then, when I assumed that door-to-door sales and donation requests would be illegal, if not heavily regulated.
It turns out I was incorrect.
It’s happened to me three times since May 2013, and I just recently confirmed with a German friend that I wasn’t an a-hole for telling them to go away. So, I’m going to tell you the story of the most recent encounter. It stars a solicitor from what she called “The Ambulance.” Buckle up.
——-
It’s 8pm last Thursday. Rox and I had recently finished dinner and were watching some TV together. The doorbell rang. Then we heard a knock on the door.
Someone somehow found our door without having buzzed in from the outside. This was either a surprise visit from a friend, or what some would call “fishy.”
I donned the stupidest look to ever appear on a face, and looked to Rox for some imaginary answer. She had none.
Mildly annoyed, I groaned a lazy TV groan, stood up, and shuffled to the front door.
When I answered a blond girl in her late 20s greeted me with a smile and a clipboard. Oh, no.
“Hello, I’m from the Ambulance. Do you have some time?”
No, I don’t. “Sure,” I faked a smile.
Noticing my accent, she continued “Ah! Is English better for you?”
“No, I can speak German. You can go ahead.”
“Okay, great. My English is not so good, but I can try if you want.”
“No worries.”
Then, she said some things about the Ambulance, and asking for support, and would I give my signature, but I didn’t catch all of it.
“Crap,” I replied. “Yeah, maybe we should go ahead in English.”
“Okay, I will try,” she replied, sheepishly. “Well, I am here on behalf of the Ambulance. Have you ever had to use the Ambulance in Munich?”
“Thankfully no,” I replied. She seemed to expect more, but I didn’t have anything else for her.
“Ah, okay, well yes, that’s a good thing. Well, I’m here to ask for support. If you sign here, you can give as little as 3 euros per month to support the ambulance. It will help us provide better care for you if you should ever need it.”
If I should ever need it. That appeal to fear was not the first appeal she would drag from the Freshman Marketing Handbook that evening. Keep reading.
I threw out the first polite excuse that came to mind. “Ah, well the problem is that I’m a student, so my income is quite low. I’m afraid I can’t afford to give right now.”
Appeal to Empathy: “Ah, well that’s okay! I’m a student as well, and I give each month. It’s really not a problem.”
Pride in one’s employer is awesome, but it doesn’t solve my problem. “Hmmm. Well, I’m really just not sure, yet. I’ve never heard of this program. Do you have a website I can check in my free time? Can I donate online?” Maybe her cause is legitimate. I’d like to read and learn more about it.
Appeal to Scarcity: “Ah, yes we have a website. But, the problem is that, if you give on the website, then the organization distributes the money all around Munich. If you sign up with me, now, then it ensures that the ambulance gets all of the money.”
What’s “the organization?” I give her a reluctant look, to which she responds before I can give her another excuse.
“I’m coming by your apartment tonight, because I was here last year to sign up all of your neighbors. I’ve noticed that you are new, here, so I came back to add you to the list.”
APPEAL TO THE BANDWAGON FTW!!!!!
Nah, just kidding. She totally lost me on that one. Among my thoughts were these:
- She’s way too aggressive, and that much social pressure usually opens my altruism circuit
- Her challenging every misgiving I presented to her is decidedly disconcerting
- Emergency medical services are public, here, and the income tax is 40%+. Why does EMS still need donations?
- First contact with the campaign is at my front door at 8pm. No e-mails? No ads? No snail-mail? And why won’t she let me go to the website to research it?
- She didn’t have any fliers with her. What does that mean about people who turn them down at the door?
“Okay. Well, thanks. I understand your cause and I’ll look into it. For now, though, I’m not going to commit to a monthly donation.” Then, I pause.
After a few seconds. “Okay. Well, thank you for your time. I will come back in a few months to see if you are ready.”
Unless I find out that you guys really super need the money, then I “won’t be home” next time you come. “Okay, sounds good. Good night.”
——
Talking to my friend Katharina, today, I learned that one should “never commit to a monthly donation based on a visit to my home.” She wasn’t blown away by the experience–she said it’s happened to her a few times. But, she certainly urges on the side of caution with those kinds of causes, and confirms that there’s no such social norm that could pressure one into a commitment like that. She went on to call the activity an invasion of privacy.
Good. So, worst case scenario, this issue is just controversial, here. I can live with that.
So, I’m treating the experience like an exposure to marketing communication. Now, I’ve heard of the cause. Later, when I’m looking for local causes to support, I’ll see what “the ambulance” needs, why they need it, and what my money can do for the community.
If you’re a foreigner like me: Don’t think too hard about door-to-door solicitors. They caught me off guard, and I felt guilty for turning them down. However, doing so does not violate any prominent social norms, so Germany probably won’t hate your for it.
