Feeld was a sweet little form who loved to have fun and help people, but was unfortunately quite small. Like her 4-legged, red-nosed friend from the North, she was often made fun of for being different. Her parents tried to convince her that she was special, but behind closed doors she could hear them whispering their concerns about her future.
“I just don’t know, Fran. She can’t stay this small forever. She needs to learn that people respect sizeable forms. I just don’t know what to do with her.”
“Oh but Bill, what if, I don’t know… what if she’s not the weird one? What if we are? Why can’t we just accept her for who she is?”
“Nonsense, everybody knows that a form must be a certain length, and besides what would the Form King say if he heard such talk?! We can’t ever speak of this again!”
Poor little Feeld leaned against the wall and slowly slid down into a sitting position, tears welling in her eyes. She was too little to understand such things as “the accepted position” and “the status quo” but she could feel it. Everywhere she went she could feel she was different. She could feel the laser eyes of the longer forms boring through her on her way to market, and she could just pick up the slightest strains of whispering about her as she passed.
You see, when Feeld came into this world, she was born with a rare disease called “Minimalitis.” This disease forced her into a smaller form that disallowed any non-essential fields. She was doomed to live her life never experiencing the need to ask for the submittee’s gender, education, last 3 previous addresses or Social Security number. She was doomed to be small and, sigh, minimalistic.
The back of her head hit the wall with a “thunk” as she remembered the first meeting with the Form King’s High Council.
*loud clearing of throat*
“Miss Feld is it?” His high-pitched whiny voice was matched in absurdity only by the length of his formy robes. He must have had 30 separate fields on his robes and he was clearly, quite proud of its length.
Her voice cracked. “Um, it’s Feeld, sir,” She squeaked.
“Ahem, yes of course it is. Miss Feld, do you understand that you are in violation of the King’s Order to all forms?”
A new voice, this one gravelly and terrifying deliberately mispronounced her name again. “Miss Feld, what is the King’s Order to All Forms?”
She glanced at him and his flowing robe, this one containing an impossible 45 fields. She mumbled a reply.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
She recited the doctrine she had been taught since the cradle, “The King’s Order is that all Landing Page Forms continue to grow in length and complexity over the course of their lifetimes.”
“And are you growing, Miss Feld?”
Tears dripped from her nose onto the floor. “No”
“Miss Feld, may I remind you that our rules are here for a reason. We have identified through much testing and science that the bigger the form, the better. It just makes sense, after all, that we should get every bit of possibly-relevant information we can get from a site visitor. If you choose rather to break the status quo and go (at this his face screwed into a wicked sneer and he literally spit the next word out) “minimalist” on us, then we would of course be forced to treat you with the utmost contempt for breaking our societal barriers.”
She jolted out of her trance with a sob, got up and ran out the door. She ran onto the old country road outside of their dilapidated farmhouse and pushed herself harder. She felt that she would continue running and never stop, but as she flew through the darkened countryside she collided with something… or someone. It was so small that she had not seen it until it was too late.
She rubbed her head as she got off the ground and looked around to see what she had run into.
“I apologize miss, I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
Her eyes followed the source of the voice down, down, down until she finally noticed the tiny figure of the smallest form she had ever seen.
Could it be? Were there other minimalist forms out there like her? She had never dared to dream that there were others, assuming that she was destined for a life of rejection and loneliness.
“W-w-who are you, where did you come from?”
He gave a low bow (which was difficult since he was already so close to the ground).
“I am Sir Simplus, I come from the land of Cee-ROatia and I was sent out to search for a very special form.”
She stopped him, “Cee-ROatia, I’ve never heard of that, where is it?”
He pointed toward the West where the sun was just disappearing over the mountains. “Over those mountains, there is a land where Conversion Rates double, visitors play happily in the warm pools of Landing Page bliss, and forms stay short and minimalistic.”
He shook his head. “I was heading back to Cee-ROatia after a failed mission. I had been sent to search out a legendary landing page form. One that would bring balance to the Formland, and would unite all of us. One that would help free the longer forms from the shackles of the Imperial Formness and help increase Conversion Rate for all.”
He sighed, “But I’ve failed in my mission. I have been searching for 2 years and have never once found evidence of this girl. Do you know her? I’m looking for ‘Feeld.'”
Could it be? Was she really the chosen one? Had everything in her life up until this point been leading her to this meeting? Could it be that she was destined to lead the form-lution that would push out the non-essential fields, and finally bring balance and sunccintness to contact forms everywhere?
She closed her eyes and allowed the wind to play with her hair as she imagined conversion rates doubling and sales teams stepping up their contact game with all of the form submissions that would surely take place in this new age of golden opportunity.
The harsh sound of a loud *whack* jolted her abruptly out of her vision.
She looked over just in time to see the Form King’s men piling onto the simple little Cee-ROatian form. His eyes pleading for help from her were the last things she was to remember in the land of the free.
Poor little Feeld spent the rest of her life in prison, eating slop and wondering about freedom, love, and essential form fields. She was forced to undergo intensive brainwashing thrice daily with no rest. At times she could hear the sounds of knighting ceremonies wafting down through the dungeon corridors as the King’s men grew in form length and false honor. The only sounds to keep her company were the groans from adjacent cells and other enemies of the state as well as the sound of her own sobs to lull her to sleep every night.
Therefore, dear reader. Would you join me in doing your part to free Feeld from the clutches of lengthy landing page forms and non-essential fields? Would you help create a culture of happiness and conversion friendly landing pages by leaving the random, personal questions for the 2nd or 3rd contact when rapport has been established with your prospective customer?
Don’t let Feeld die in prison. Don’t let the Form King and his Imperial Form Council win. Eliminate non-essential fields. Get that information after you’ve established first contact. Spread happiness and joy, raising conversion rates and cheer.
Want to help stop the perpetuation of unnecessarily long landing page forms? Share this post!
— Kirk Williams (@PPCKirk) October 21, 2014