Why I decided not to test Lewitt microphones for the time being (Editorial)

I’m writing today’s editorial because I was annoyed yesterday by an email whose impertinence is hard to top. It’s not about the manufacturer and their products, which are probably okay. It’s about the way this company, through its PR department, insults media and testers. You might think that the modern work world already has enough challenges. Deadlines, tests, meetings, a constantly beeping calendar, and the annoying phone call at the coffee machine between the quick third breakfast and planning. But as if that wasn’t enough, another culprit has sneaked into my digital daily life: the ubiquitous promotional email.

Now, one could argue that promotional emails can simply be ignored. One click on “delete” and the matter is settled. But far from it! Because what we might not realize is that we are entering the minefield of bruised PR egos. Imagine this: There sits this PR person – let’s call her Valerie – happily and fervently typing her email. Every word, every comma, every phrase is a love letter to her product. It’s not just any product, it’s THE product. Valerie sees herself as the heroine of modern marketing, the only bastion between humanity and the darkness of ignorant consumption, where every tester and editor is just a willing means to an end.

And then – nothing. No response. Not even a tiny “No, thanks.” And here begins the true horror. For Valerie is deeply offended. In her world, there is nothing more important than her promotional email and THE product. Every non-response is a sneaky affront, a personal insult. One might think you had poured vinegar into her fragrant mate tea or drained the battery of her trendy e-bike. But why do PR people feel so insulted? It’s simple: In their perception, their email is not just spam, no, it’s a handwritten love poem meant to magically make the recipient a better person. They see their mission as a crusade against ignorance. And we, the recipients, the lowly testers, are their unwilling, ungrateful sheep.

But honestly, who has the time to respond to each of these emails? Between all the other tasks in life, like working, eating, sleeping, and maybe even getting some fresh air, there really seem to be more important things than diving into an extended conversation about the latest Lewitt influencer microphone. Okay, I’ll try to put myself in her wounded soul and imagine Valerie’s daily routine. She begins her workday full of enthusiasm, armed with a list of potential editors she wants to convince of her product. Each of her writings is a perfect composition of praises and promises, directed at us, the unlucky recipients. But what happens when her well-thought-out words fall into the void? When her emails go unanswered and disappear into digital oblivion?

The drama reaches its peak when Valerie checks her mailbox for the tenth time and finds that her love letter remains unanswered. This is not just a professional rejection; it’s an existential slap in the face. Her dedication, her passion, her very existence have been ignored! Because for her, these emails are more than just advertising – they are missions. Missions she takes seriously. When these missions fail, Valerie’s perfect world begins to crumble.

Her disappointment quickly turns into frustration. And here begins the metamorphosis. The disappointment leads to an inner monologue that sounds something like this: “Why am I being ignored? Why doesn’t anyone see how great my product is?” And then, in a fit of desperate anger: “This is an insult!” In this state of emotional turmoil, many resort to the only means left to them: aggression. Valerie thinks, “If kindness doesn’t work, then maybe strictness or condescending rudeness will.” And so the polite Valerie becomes a rude, abusive writer, expressing her frustration in words she normally wouldn’t use. She feels personally attacked and strikes back verbally. These outbursts are not only expressions of her frustration but also an attempt to regain control and hold me, the ignorant editor, accountable. By the way, the quote is real (though slightly shortened); otherwise, I wouldn’t be so upset.

We’ve all been there: a harmless promotional email suddenly transforms into a threatening manifesto. The once-friendly PR representative Valerie, who supposedly had our best interests at heart, reveals her dark side. Her latest threat sounds almost like the monologue of a villain from a bad movie: “You will reap what you sow if you don’t comply with my PR and test the microphone!” Aha! So, why does Valerie resort to such dramatic rhetoric? What drives her to issue threats from her desk that seem more fitting for a mafia film than modern business communication?

Valerie’s threat is the last stand of her desperate hopes. She’s tried everything—from charming requests to subtle manipulation—and nothing has worked. In her world, the microphone is not just a product; it’s a mission, a sacred object meant to transform our lives. And I? I simply ignored it! For Valerie, this means that we are questioning her expertise, her passion, and her value as a PR professional. This creeping despair, the feeling that no one appreciates her efforts, leads to one final, desperate measure: intimidation. If kindness and persuasion don’t work, maybe threats will.

The threat “You will reap what you sow” is an attempt to make us feel guilty. It’s a way to force us to submit to her PR strategy. But in reality, it only shows how much pressure Valerie herself is under. She has to deliver results, she has to satisfy her superiors, and each time one of her emails goes unanswered, the pressure on her increases. One might almost feel sorry for her, if it weren’t for this terribly rude and offensive email. But what do I do now? Do I let myself be intimidated? Do I bow to the will of the PR dictatorship, beg for a sample, and test the damn microphone?

The truth is, we live in a world where our time is valuable. We can’t bow to every PR desperado who thinks they can compel us to act through threats and intimidation. Valerie’s threat may sound dramatic, but ultimately, it only shows how desperate and overwhelmed she is.

So, dear Valerie, your threats will change nothing. Perhaps you should consider adopting a different approach—or better yet, maintain the respect and calm that are so important in PR work. And I? I will continue to ignore emails that bring me nothing but trouble. Because at the end of the day, there are truly more important things in life!