• by Larry Dobrow , Featured Columnist, June 23, 2016

A few weeks back, I was running a 10K and moving along at a reasonable clip. Which is why, when a young girl blew past me at the three-mile mark, I took immediate note. I actually said, “You go, girl!,” which are words that should never, ever originate from the larynx of a middle-aged white man. This was one impressive young athlete.

But she kept fading behind me on the uphills - they’re easier on the knees than the alternative, I say - and just as quickly blowing past me again on the downhills. Eventually, this started to annoy me, so I decided to dust her. I didn’t see the girl again on the course after that; the results later confirmed that I bested her by a gargantuan, heroic 8.79 seconds and that she was just 10 years old. I sure showed her, huh? You come at the king, you best not miss.

This little encounter prompted two questions in my mind. The first, “What the hell is wrong with me?,” isn’t likely to be answered until the government increases funding for the classification of extreme personality disorders. The second, however, has some application in today’s exercise: Why is it a bad thing to be competitive?

Taken a step further, when did the notion of competitiveness, the sizing up and subsequent knocking down of the competition, become so distasteful to brand marketers? Is it because we-is-better-than-thems-is appeals doesn’t work, or is it a manners thing?

I bring this up in the context of Allstate’s most recent set of videos, which are collected under the banner of “Here’s to Firsts.” There’s nothing particularly engaging or offensive about the clips themselves - more on that in a bit - but they don’t even try to make a case for Allstate over another insurer. And as a consumer, that’s what I want.

Given that I enjoy watching sports-type games on the telly-vision set and following them on the cyber-phone, I’m constantly bombarded with insurance marketing. Allstate, Esurance, Nationwide, USAA, Geico, Progressive… I’m sure there are more. Yet in one of the most competitive and aggressively advertised categories out there, no one company has the inclination to say, “Wow, those other guys suck - like, Kiss-without-the-makeup suck. Here’s why we’re better.” They all want me to feeeeeeel something, man (except maybe Geico, whose strategy has long been to bludgeon would-be customers into submission).

That’s why “Here’s to Firsts” is such a waste of everyone’s energy. Allstate might have the best rates and its reps might be singularly adept at remembering the pronunciation of my last name over the course of an extended claims process. But the “Here’s to Firsts” clips ignore practical concerns in the interest of forging an emotional bond.

In “Eva’s First Chance,” we’re treated to the barest outline of the title protagonist’s arc. She tells us about how she grew up in a rough part of town and that it was assumed she’d never leave (“you come from the ghetto, that’s where you’re gonna stay”). But Eva kept at it, finding a job via the classifieds. Now she’s married with three kids and a homeowner, with a kitchen backsplash that might be described as “casually ornate.”

Then there’s the hipster superdad who spends “First Bike Ride” teaching his daughter about co-insurance and umbrella policies. Ha ha no - he teaches her how to ride a bike. Over the course of the video, she gets knocked down. But she gets up again. You are never gonna keep her down. Does the video end with a successful run down the driveway? Spoiler: Yes.

Eva and Bike Dad seem like decent people. So what happens if there’s a flood? I have lots of important things, like years-old copies of Rolling Stone and the fruits of my recent Costco paper-goods run, in my basement.

This is a deliberately dumb argument I’m making, because most sentient beings are capable of finding information about policies on their own (and if they’re not, the companies themselves will happily lend a hand). But the point remains: Insurance is not as inherently personal a product as these companies seem to believe it is. What’s needed now aren’t huggy-heart appeals, but something to differentiate one company with a billion-dollar media allowance from the next.

Go after each other, guys. It’s time to get gladiatorial.