It’s just about impossible to talk to an e-mail marketing professional without the word “relevance” cropping up in the conversation. Yet for all the talk of making e-mails more relevant to the individual recipients, it seems that most marketers still send out one-size-fit-all messages that address their needs rather than those of the potential customers.

One reason: Few marketers bother to find out exactly what their opt-in subscribers want from their e-mails, judging by the three dozen sites I visited recently. In fact, most didn’t even trouble themselves to ask if I preferred HTML or text messages.

Granted, being overly nosy is as much of a sin as (and a far greater turn-off than) not evincing the slightest curiosity. Why, for instance, does Culture for Kids, which specializes in multicultural toys and educational materials, require my physical address before it will deign to allow me to subscribe to its e-mails? Probably so that it can send me print catalogs and other direct mail, but what if I don’t want to receive direct mail? Doesn’t my preference account for anything? Apparently not to Culture for Kids, which is why I declined to finish filling out the sub form. (A shame, as I used to buy from the company fairly frequently.)

Always Mod, a retailer of Marimekko products, had the right idea on its sub form: “Please select the areas of interest in which you’ve like to receive emails from us.” Unfortunately it proceeded to offer only one option: “sales news.” One Hobson’s choice, coming up…

You’d think that toiletries brand Caswell-Massey would at least want to know my gender, or whether I was interested in men’s products, women’s products, or both. That Magellan’s, which sells travel supplies, might be interested in how frequently I travel and where. That Home Depot would like to know my level of DIY skills or if I’m most interested in building supplies, tools, decorating, or appliances. That just about every brand would want to know how often I want to receive messages and how I’d heard of them. Only ScotlandShop.net asked how I’d heard of it website.

To be fair, several companies did make an effort to get to know me better. Sanrio, for instance, the company behind Hello Kitty, asked which was my favorite of its characters. (Hello Kitty for the win!) Pet supplies mailer Drs. Foster & Smith allowed me to choose up to three areas of interest—dogs, cats, and the like—as well as additional specialty e-newsletters such as Pharmacy News, LiveAquarium.com, and Drs. Foster & Smith Stories. That seems like a no-brainer—as a dog owner I have no interest in receiving offers for cat toys—but you’d be surprised how many pet supplies sellers I’ve come across don’t even ask that basic query.

Cookery supplier Prepared Pantry had a generic sign-up form that asked just for the e-mail address and first name, followed by a page of optional questions that included interests (main meals, side dishes, bread baking, dessert), whether I wanted to learn about new products and/or sales notifications, and if I wanted to receive the print catalog. (That’s the way to do it, Culture for Kids.)

Womenswear cataloger/retailer J. Jill also struck a satisfying level of inquisitiveness. It asked if I wanted to opt in to receive phone calls or text messages as well as e-mails, if I was interested in filling out the occasional survey, and what which product ranges I’d most like to learn about.

But for thoroughness without prying, Ikea was my favorite. Initially it asked if I wanted to opt in for national and/or local promotional e-mails, text messages, e-mails for small businesses, and the English-language or Spanish-language version of the print catalog (though, alas, there’s no option to receive Spanish-language e-mails). It also asked for my zip code and my preferred Ikea location. Then, like Prepared Pantry, it directed me to a page of optional questions about the type of content I was most interested in, by room and by product category.

For what it’s worth, only three marketers—home organization retailer Stacks and Stacks, grocer Trader Joe’s, and gadgets mailer Firebox.com—required me to confirm my subscription by responding to a follow-up e-mail.

Slightly more than half (56%, to be exact) sent me some sort of confirmation or welcome message within several hours, if not several minutes. Surprisingly, some of the larger companies (Home Depot, J. Jill, and Restoration Hardware, I’m looking at you) failed to respond within 24 hours, as is best practice—not to mention common sense. When it comes to direct marketing, absence—in this case, the absence of a “thank you and welcome aboard” message—does not make the heart grow fonder. “Out of sight, out of mind” is the adage that applies here. And there’s a certain arrogance in expecting prospects to feel enthusiastic upon receiving a confirmation message days after they’d subscribed.

Several of the welcome e-mails, such as that from bookseller Alibris, did an excellent job of describing the benefits of subscribing (in Alibris’s case, contests, product recommendations, and coupons). Just think how many more subs these companies would get if they referred to at least some of these benefits on their websites themselves. I wrote last week about how so many websites failed to promote the benefits of opting in to receive their e-mails, so I’ll refrain from railing about the subject again. But it drives me nuts how companies that work so hard to sell their wares fall so short on selling themselves.

A handful of the welcome e-mails included a thank-you offer of sorts. Travel-guide publisher Lonely Planet gave 30% off my next purchase; Sanrio offered a free tote bag with my next order, so long as I placed it within two weeks; Magellan’s gave free shipping for 30 days. Most of the introductory e-mails followed best practice by including links to specific products and categories to encourage me to start shopping right away. Welcome e-mails have the highest open rates of any marketing e-mails sent; you have to wonder why a company wouldn’t include several calls to action and links in them.

Here, again, Ikea did it right. Its welcome e-mail included a brief summary of the benefits of subscribing, along with more than a dozen links back to its website. These included links to product categories and subcategories, to the store I’d specified as my favorite, to a page describing value-added services, and to the adorable Famnig Hjarta “hug” pillow that was used as the lead graphic in the message. After all, nothing says “welcome” like a big, plush heart-shape cushion with two arms open wide.