February 9, 2012
Years ago Volkswagen ran a commercial that started with photos of a funeral procession—a long, black hearse followed by endless, shining limousines. In the background the voice of the deceased recounted the details of his last will and testament:
I, Maxwell E. Snavely, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath the following: To my wife Rose, who spent money like there was no tomorrow . . . I leave 100 dollars and a calendar. To my sons Rodney and Victor, who spent every dime I ever gave them on fancy cars and fast women . . . I leave 50 dollars, in dimes. To my business partner Jules, whose only motto was spend, spend, spend . . . I leave nothing, nothing, nothing. And to my other friends and relatives who also never learned the value of a dollar . . . I leave a dollar.
Behind all of the limos, of course, was a young man driving a small black VW Beetle. As he weeps and smiles gently, the deceased concludes:
Finally, to my nephew Harold, who oft-times said, "a penny saved is a penny earned," and who also oft-times said, "Gee Uncle Max, it sure pays to own a Volkswagen" . . . I leave my entire fortune of one hundred billion dollars.
The script makes for great advertising. It's memorable. It targets an experience that everyone can imagine—even if they've never been there—and it draws a sharp, dramatic, and (the first time around) unexpected contrast. It even made its way onto a show called "The World's Funniest TV Commercials."
But what makes for good advertising doesn't necessarily make for good living, however. A last will and testament should not be a final word of judgment, an act of pique, an effort at exacting vengeance, or a last attempt to assert control over those we love. There is a difference between final, healing words and a parting shot....