Brand Building and Brand Loyalty
Let me share with you three quick stories:
Many years ago I bought a box of Glad tall white kitchen trash bags. I was carrying one full of garbage out the front door to leave for the sanitation truck when is suddenly split.
I made up a little doggerel:
Glad is bad.
Hefty is nifty.
For the last 40 years I have always bought Hefty.
2. America's Choice
The house brand of A&P—and its subsidiary SuperFresh—is America's Choice. The label is on myriad products from meats to canned goods to plastics.
Many years ago I bought a dozen America's Choice eggs and decided on two soft-boiled eggs for breakfast. I gently placed two eggs in boiling water and they gently cracked. Three minutes later I had placed the entire dozen eggs—two at a time, ever so gently—in boiling water and they all ever-so-gently cracked.
Since then I have avoided everything America's Choice.
One day on Philadelphia's raffish South Street a young woman walked toward me wearing a Donna Karen New York sweatshirt with the DKNY logo in huge letters. The garment was filthy, as though the person had just come off duty after a 10-hour shift in a Midas car repair bay.
The three cameos above represent poor P.R. for the brands. Basically bad luck. Kitchen bags occasionally break; eggs sometimes crack in boiling water; careless, untidy people wear clothes.
"You can't buy brand loyalty," wrote freelancer Malcolm Decker. "It has to be earned."
Back in the mid-1960s I used to party with Ed Hanlon, a young guy who wrote an affecting novel titled A Few Days to See the World. As I recall, the title related to insects. It stuck with me.
Like insects, chickens have a short time to see the world. They are fattened up in order to become cacciatore, carbonara or casseroles. Hens' careers are entirely devoted to laying eggs, after which I assume they become soup.