Greenland And The Trashy Bear
Our Christmas marketing mascot is a polar bear named Marshmallow. With recent outcries to save them from extinction, and the holiday release of the movie The Golden Compass (a massive best seller and cause for religious controversy) polar bears seem to be at a minimum in most Americans peripheral this season. Which makes the choice a seemingly good move for my Fortune 500 employer. Over the last month we've been inundated by the unnaturally family friendly character. End caps, promotional stands, moving displays, bookmarks (with a donation to First Book), wrapping paper and let us not forget, a stuffed version strategically placed in our impulse buy checkout corral. With a display low enough for children to grab. Hip high for touchy consumers to run their fingers through while they're standing under the 5 minutes from this point sign. Drunk on Christmas spirit, who can resist the friendly price tag of $8.99 (with a $30 purchase)? Most people apparently. With the less than desirable product movement, my co-workers and I have all had it up to our ears with the shedding synthetic fibers, making our eyes water and our noses itch. It's time to get serious about getting him sold out, out onto whiny runts, spoiling (or worse broken) parents, and women that still use baby voices at the sight of such a thing. Our solution, forced interaction, we're keeping one at each register.
For the duration of my shift I saw one sell. Despite the minimal success of our tactic, I did get a good bit of entertainment as a direct result of Marshmallow's unmissable presence. An old man, much more round than tall, sporting a baseball cap and overalls approached my register to buy a local map. I ran through my every customer sales script to reach the end of the transaction with nothing special to speak of. As he started to walk away, he pointed at Marshmallow and said, "Polar bears used to tear through our trash." Willing to at anytime engage a customer with a story, I shifted my body toward him, widened my eyes and and gave a very toothy "Oh, yeah?" This stopped his stride toward the door. "It used to piss the Sarg off bad." He said, with a heavy country accent. "I don't mean they'd take the top off and dig through the trash, I mean they'd tear those cans apart. Ripped the bottom right off of one! Thing should have known the top would come right off, might have been easier than going through the bottom." He laughed a little and I humored him with a giggle. Trying to determine whether or not I was enjoying the rants of another south Austin crazy I asked, "Where are you from?" He pointed north and said, "you know where Manchacha meets Ben White over there?" Confused I defaulted to "uh huh." "Thats where I live." "You have polar bears over there?" I asked with only a slightly detectable sarcasm. He twisted his face a little and shook his head. "Well hell naw." He said, "I'm talkin bout Greenland. I was stationed there in the Army. On a base that protected the North East from being bombed by the Russians" To encourage him, I leaned forward and said, "Oh huh wow. What's Greenland like?" "It's cold as hell." He said, with the conviction of a man that never stopped telling his version of the war. "You know we couldn't build houses directly on the ground up there? Had to be on stilts, cause the concrete would get so cold, it'd crumble. And the ground is frozen solid, frozen for thousands of years. If they did, the heat of the house would melt the frozen ground, and we'd just sink in the mud. Hell, they build permanent tunnels from house to house made of ice, we'd just spray 'em down with a hose to keep 'em sturdy.
"It must be fascinating seeing a polar bear up close like that ." I said, out of desperation to keep him talking (he wasn't much of a self-propelled storyteller) "They're as big a round as a Volkswagon!." he said, as if he'd said it 1000 times before. "And jaws like this!" he explained, stretching his arms out toward me and curling his fingers to make giant teeth. " "Sounds like some experience!" I said excitedly, picturing the massive polar bear dwarfing even a man of his stature. "I wouldn't wish that place on anyone." he went on to say. "It's not exactly the entertainment capital. The most we got was them Eskimos comin down from the village with hand carved trinkets, and dog sled rides for a dollar. Imagine that huh, they didn't even say made in China on the bottom! " He smiled again and started turning to leave, "I bet they just scratched it off." He added, just before he walked away.
Working in south Austin is miles (literally as well as metaphorically) away from any other part of town. Seems like even country folk manage to find themselves at our slightly out of the way location. I get at least something worth mentioning to Kyle happening every time I spend a few hours there. With little to bitch about (polar bear exception , I mean come on, who wants pseudo allergic reactions to stuffed animals anyway?) I spend my time in pursuit of something to write about. I've just finally gotten around to it.
For the duration of my shift I saw one sell. Despite the minimal success of our tactic, I did get a good bit of entertainment as a direct result of Marshmallow's unmissable presence. An old man, much more round than tall, sporting a baseball cap and overalls approached my register to buy a local map. I ran through my every customer sales script to reach the end of the transaction with nothing special to speak of. As he started to walk away, he pointed at Marshmallow and said, "Polar bears used to tear through our trash." Willing to at anytime engage a customer with a story, I shifted my body toward him, widened my eyes and and gave a very toothy "Oh, yeah?" This stopped his stride toward the door. "It used to piss the Sarg off bad." He said, with a heavy country accent. "I don't mean they'd take the top off and dig through the trash, I mean they'd tear those cans apart. Ripped the bottom right off of one! Thing should have known the top would come right off, might have been easier than going through the bottom." He laughed a little and I humored him with a giggle. Trying to determine whether or not I was enjoying the rants of another south Austin crazy I asked, "Where are you from?" He pointed north and said, "you know where Manchacha meets Ben White over there?" Confused I defaulted to "uh huh." "Thats where I live." "You have polar bears over there?" I asked with only a slightly detectable sarcasm. He twisted his face a little and shook his head. "Well hell naw." He said, "I'm talkin bout Greenland. I was stationed there in the Army. On a base that protected the North East from being bombed by the Russians" To encourage him, I leaned forward and said, "Oh huh wow. What's Greenland like?" "It's cold as hell." He said, with the conviction of a man that never stopped telling his version of the war. "You know we couldn't build houses directly on the ground up there? Had to be on stilts, cause the concrete would get so cold, it'd crumble. And the ground is frozen solid, frozen for thousands of years. If they did, the heat of the house would melt the frozen ground, and we'd just sink in the mud. Hell, they build permanent tunnels from house to house made of ice, we'd just spray 'em down with a hose to keep 'em sturdy.
"It must be fascinating seeing a polar bear up close like that ." I said, out of desperation to keep him talking (he wasn't much of a self-propelled storyteller) "They're as big a round as a Volkswagon!." he said, as if he'd said it 1000 times before. "And jaws like this!" he explained, stretching his arms out toward me and curling his fingers to make giant teeth. " "Sounds like some experience!" I said excitedly, picturing the massive polar bear dwarfing even a man of his stature. "I wouldn't wish that place on anyone." he went on to say. "It's not exactly the entertainment capital. The most we got was them Eskimos comin down from the village with hand carved trinkets, and dog sled rides for a dollar. Imagine that huh, they didn't even say made in China on the bottom! " He smiled again and started turning to leave, "I bet they just scratched it off." He added, just before he walked away.
Working in south Austin is miles (literally as well as metaphorically) away from any other part of town. Seems like even country folk manage to find themselves at our slightly out of the way location. I get at least something worth mentioning to Kyle happening every time I spend a few hours there. With little to bitch about (polar bear exception , I mean come on, who wants pseudo allergic reactions to stuffed animals anyway?) I spend my time in pursuit of something to write about. I've just finally gotten around to it.