As I See It

Pharma & Physician: No Longer Pen Pals

The promotional pen has finally run dry.

By Paul S. Koch, M.D., Editor Emeritus

I am a frugal Yankee, so it's in my nature to learn the true value of something I want to buy or sell. I am also a man of integrity, and I have never been offered a sum sufficient to compromise my honor. Would I, though? What would it take to sell my integrity, to cause me to make poor decisions based solely on what someone gives me?

Happily, I do not have to spend a great deal of time on this analysis, because our good friends in the pharmaceutical business have done that for me and for you. They have researched the issue, tossed tons of data into the mainframe, and spit out the conclusion.

The value of a typical physician's integrity is, according to their calculations, seventy-five cents. Six bits. Less than a George.

How did they arrive at this modest amount? Apparently, it has been determined through careful study that if they give us a pad and a pen we are theirs forever. And so, to protect us from this powerful influence, the distribution of promotional pads and pens is now forbidden.

I guess they don't realize that we:

1. Stuff the pen in our pocket without looking at it.

2. Never read the label on the pen because our fingers cover it.

3. Never notice the name on the pad because we're too busy balancing the phone on our shoulder while trying to hold the pad from slipping away as we write down the message.

4. Often never even remove the pen from the plastic wrapper, drop it into our top drawer behind spare AA batteries and don't see it again for a year or two, when the promoted product might no longer be on the market, and so…

5. Ultimately, distributing pads and pens is probably ineffective as a sales tool.

The Write Stuff?

Still, it's their money and they can spend it as they like. I've made plenty of marketing blunders over the years and in each case my money was blown forever. No one ever tried to forbid me from marketing to my patients or block them from receiving my message.

I wonder what would happen if I sent a pen to every person who lives in Warwick. Perhaps they would respond, "Look, Hazel. Some doctor sent us a pen. He must be a really good surgeon, or why else would he be giving us one? Come on; let's go have an operation. I can't wait!" Eventually, because so many pen-receiving patients storm my office, I would have to declare that I could no longer give away pens with my name on them. Pads either.

Unlikely. No, I imagine the typical response would be, "Look Hazel, some doctor sent us a pen. Do we have room for it in the drawer behind the AA batteries?"

I never sit with a pen and ponder, "Hmm, what should I prescribe for this patient? I need some advice. What does the pen recommend?" No one else does that either. We decide what to do, grab the pen and scribble our decision.

I do not need the promotional pens. I can afford to buy my own pens. But I do object to the conclusion that physicians are unable to identify a marketing message and therefore are weakened prey that require protection.

But I am a pragmatist, and I understand that we stand convicted of being shallow and unsophisticated. So, I say take away our pads and pens! I do not care and I do not fight it. But I warn you, do not even consider taking away our pretty sales reps. That, Sir, is going too far. OM