I hardly ever watch TV, but the Olympics drew me in. And I was ever so impressed to discover Westpac had something to do with the Olympics. They were the official bank who paid the most money of any bank to have the rights to say they were the official bank of the Olympics. Although, maybe that was only for Australia and New Zealand TV stations. Perhaps banks in other countries were busily being official sponsors of the Olympic Brand for their country.
No matter. I'm distracting myself from the obvious conclusion. So impressed was I that Westpac were advertising themselves as official sponsors I of course did what any viewer would be expected to do: I resolved to switch all my accounts to Westpac on the Monday.
But then disaster struck. National Bank rode in with a more powerful offer. According to their advert, whenever I had to think about money, a black horse would gallop past my Window, and possibly stomp bandits to death and scare away any tax collectors. That seemed like a better deal to me, so I resolved to change to National Bank first thing Monday.
But my resolution was premature. Kiwi Bank. First, imagine walking into a pub and ordering a glass of house red. Yep, I could do that. And then, as one hands over their debit/credit Kiwi Bank card, the waitress smiles knowingly, flashes her collar to reveal a Kiwi Bank logo and says "I'll get you the good stuff"
Getting the good stuff simply for paying by Kiwi Bank credit card seemed like a pretty powerful offer. It's like you are in a secret society, perhaps more powerful than Greenpeace and the Lions Club combined. But wait, as they say, there's more!
Cut away to a warehouse with Mr Pink and Mr Tarintino interrogating an attractive Mademoiselle tied to a chair. But although she's the one tied up, alone in a warehouse surrounded by homicidal maniacs, reservoir dogs and possibly off duty policemen turned bad, she seems to be the one in control. Could be her conditioner - possibly her toothpaste - I don't know. Whatever, she brazenly confesses that Kiwi Bank is taking the NZ banking industry by storm, and doing it by offering zero fees.
"What's the catch?" croaks Mr Pink - "No fees as long as you order a drink of house red at least once every three months" purrs the secret Bank Agent. Or spend some money on something else once a quarter I suppose. But it's already too late. Whether the agent lives or dies, I must change my accounts to Kiwi Bank on Monday.
And my story would have ended there, except that I saw one final bank advertisement late last night. It was a totally forgettable ANZ advertisement. If I can't remember it, it was probably pathetic. No Gold Medals. No killer bodyguard horse. No offers from the top shelf, whilst secret agents engaged in Pulp Fiction banter with psychotic gorillas, just the ANZ logo droning past my slipping consciousness. Except that I already bank with ANZ, and given their advert seemed so useless, on account of the fact I can't remember it, I feel sorry for them.
So I'm going to stick with the underdog.
Monday came, and my back accounts stayed where they were.
A million dollars in advertising, how many casualties?
No matter. I'm distracting myself from the obvious conclusion. So impressed was I that Westpac were advertising themselves as official sponsors I of course did what any viewer would be expected to do: I resolved to switch all my accounts to Westpac on the Monday.
But then disaster struck. National Bank rode in with a more powerful offer. According to their advert, whenever I had to think about money, a black horse would gallop past my Window, and possibly stomp bandits to death and scare away any tax collectors. That seemed like a better deal to me, so I resolved to change to National Bank first thing Monday.
But my resolution was premature. Kiwi Bank. First, imagine walking into a pub and ordering a glass of house red. Yep, I could do that. And then, as one hands over their debit/credit Kiwi Bank card, the waitress smiles knowingly, flashes her collar to reveal a Kiwi Bank logo and says "I'll get you the good stuff"
Getting the good stuff simply for paying by Kiwi Bank credit card seemed like a pretty powerful offer. It's like you are in a secret society, perhaps more powerful than Greenpeace and the Lions Club combined. But wait, as they say, there's more!
Cut away to a warehouse with Mr Pink and Mr Tarintino interrogating an attractive Mademoiselle tied to a chair. But although she's the one tied up, alone in a warehouse surrounded by homicidal maniacs, reservoir dogs and possibly off duty policemen turned bad, she seems to be the one in control. Could be her conditioner - possibly her toothpaste - I don't know. Whatever, she brazenly confesses that Kiwi Bank is taking the NZ banking industry by storm, and doing it by offering zero fees.
"What's the catch?" croaks Mr Pink - "No fees as long as you order a drink of house red at least once every three months" purrs the secret Bank Agent. Or spend some money on something else once a quarter I suppose. But it's already too late. Whether the agent lives or dies, I must change my accounts to Kiwi Bank on Monday.
And my story would have ended there, except that I saw one final bank advertisement late last night. It was a totally forgettable ANZ advertisement. If I can't remember it, it was probably pathetic. No Gold Medals. No killer bodyguard horse. No offers from the top shelf, whilst secret agents engaged in Pulp Fiction banter with psychotic gorillas, just the ANZ logo droning past my slipping consciousness. Except that I already bank with ANZ, and given their advert seemed so useless, on account of the fact I can't remember it, I feel sorry for them.
So I'm going to stick with the underdog.
Monday came, and my back accounts stayed where they were.
A million dollars in advertising, how many casualties?