I might get it if I thought it would work...

Okay, so I just saw one of those cell phone commercials where they were flogging the special feature where you can one-touch conference call a pre-set group of people, in this case a family that was then able to accomplish a bunch of goofy shit marginally faster because of this particular product. I was watching this, and I was struck by how truly ineffective this particular marketing campaing was. After watching it, not only did I have no desire to go out and purchase the "one-touch conference" feature for my phone, but actually thought that the feature was useless and that the ad's stretch for uses merely proved this fact. So, I began to ponder what might actually be an effective way to market this device, and I think I thought of something:

It is a dark night. A man, early 40s, is walking in a poorly lit garage, obviously going home after a late night at work. His hair is speckeled with a few stray greys, and he is obviously weary from a tough day spent agonizing over a project. He reflects on the length of his days and the effort he puts into them and seems content with doing it as a way to support a comfortable lifestyle for his family, as a brief and understated smirk flashes across his face, exposing the thin lines that have come over his face, a by-product of the struggle to raise a family and climb the corporate ladder with modest success. He removes his car keys from his pocket and prepares to open his car, the lone one in the empty lot. As he hits the "unlock" button and the car makes the "blip-blip" noise, we hear two gunshots ring out in the and the 1st-person POV camera angle drops a few feet, then tumbles sideways as his body slumps to the ground. A masked figure snatches the keys from his outstreched hands, climbs into the car, and drives off, stealing his vehicle. We cut to a medium view of the man, two holes in his chest and blood beginning to pool around his stricken body, and he takes his hand and begins to fumble through his pockets. After an agonizing and painfully slow search, his hand emerges from his jacket pocket containing the item he so valiantly struggled to remove: his cellphone. Pressing but one button on the phone, we see he is able to call his wife, his son, and his daughter. As they all answer, he struggles to whisper the faint and labored words "I love you and am so proud of you all." He sighs quietly.

We then cut to an ER waiting room, the mother holding her two teenage children beneath her two arms, her eye make-up streaking down the side of her cheeks and the three of them all sob at the loss of their beloved husband and father. The daughter then says, "I'm glad we at least got to say goodbye."

Cut to a black screen with haunting silence, with only the words "One touch group calling".

Now that's how you sell a cell phone.