WHY?

Why do people shop where they shop and buy where they buy?  This question has always fascinated me.  I was intrigued by the question so much that I majored in Advertising/Marketing in college.  My primary consideration in deciding on that major is that we are always trying to sell something, quite often ourselves.  Whether we are opening our own business or interviewing for a job we are selling the customers or the interviewer on what we have to offer.  He or she has many options, why should they choose us?

There have been some classic ad campaigns.  Some use a jingle such as “I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener” or a slogan such as “Like a good neighbor State Farm is there” or even a celebrity endorsing underwear such as Michael Jordan.  But what’s with these Geico ape guys.  The gecko lizard I can see but the ape guys? 

At lease the lizard is kind of a cute little guy that endears a sense of good and kindness.  But what am I missing with those ape guys?  I can envision a meeting in the Geico board room.  High level executives sit around a table and look daggers at a parade of high powered Madison Avenue ad agencies making their pitch.  They listen as the best and brightest in the business make proposal after proposal on how to sell auto insurance. 

It’s getting late in the day, yawns are turning into glances at their watches and thoughts of let’s get the hell out of here.  The last presentation starts with a bursting-with-pride presenter next to an easel, flipping over a cover sheet to reveal 2 guys who look like ape people.  Their team then proceeds to roll out a complete ad campaign based on these people/apes. 

A light bulb goes off in the head of someone in the Geico group (probably the girlfriend of the CEO).  She says excitedly, “Brilliant!  Why did we not think of this before”?  Everyone else at the table, realizing this is the girlfriend of the CEO, enthusiastically chime in with their approval.  A quick vote is taken and they unanimously decide to go with the agency proposing a multi-year, multi-million dollar ad campaign based on the thought that people will gravitate to an auto insurance company based on an affinity for a couple of ape guys.

WHY?  What in God’s name made them think that I, Mr. John Q. Public, would see this ad on TV and think “Damn, I better transfer my auto insurance to Geico”?  I consider myself a fairly astute person but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what the bait or the trigger is in this campaign.  For openers, they are ugly.  If they were cute looking apes, they might have some appeal, but these guys trying to strut around like Mr. Cool, doesn’t wash.  To me, these ape guys are such a turn-off that I think of Geico as some sleaze ball, back office operation that if I did have a claim, I would call headquarters and get a “This phone number has been disconnected” recording. 

Before I can grab my remote, these guys continue to pop up.  Geico has obviously spent millions on this campaign and it’s still around.  Maybe the girlfriend is still bedding the CEO.  But seriously, am I wrong?           

THE SHOWDOWN



When I was a sophomore in high school I began to think that if I was ever going to have a shot a college education I had better get my act together.  That meant taking the proper college prep classes as well as a few elective classes other than metal shop and agriculture that may be helpful to me in my journey.  One of the classes I decided to take was typing.  Little did I know that besides allowing me to type my own term papers and the like, I was laying the groundwork for being computer literate some years off in the future.

The first day of the fall semester I walked into a jam packed classroom and looked for a seat.  Tables were lined up with 2 chairs and 2 typewriters per table, facing the teacher’s desk.  Every seat was taken except for one seat at a table in the front row, directly in front of the teacher.  There was a girl sitting in the right seat so I settled in next to her.  I was to learn later why this seat was vacant. 

I introduced myself to her (her name was Babs) and got the briefest of nods and a “don’t bother me” look.  I glanced around the room to see if there were any other vacant seats.  There were none.  In fact, several students were giving me rather sympathetic glances. 

I was to learn that this girl was the quintessential “secretary”.  She could already type at warp speed and was only taking the class to fulfill a requirement.  She was obviously bored with the whole thing, especially me.  She even looked the part.  Remember the character Lily Tomlin used to play on Laugh-In, the phone operator with the scrunched up mouth, squinty eyes and prissy, condescending attitude?   Babs was a dead ringer for her. 

The early part of the semester was spent learning which keys were which.  Then we progressed to testing against the clock.  We started with basic stuff like “The quick brown fox jumped over………” and gradually progressed to more lengthy material.  The teacher would say “Begin” and start the clock.  At the end of the allotted time we were judged on how many words we had finished.  After a time that changed to how many correct words we had finished. 

Babs always led the class by miles.  Starting from total scratch, I was but a blip on her radar.  She would finish way before I did and look totally annoyed while I thrashed away.  It was easy to judge how I was doing against her because at the end of each line typed we would have to throw the carriage arm to go to the next line.  At the start I would get a few words in and she was already throwing the arm, usually more than once before I would finish the first line.

It was obvious she had already reached peak efficiency and was not going to improve by virtue of participation in this basic skills typing class.  I, on the other hand, as the semester progressed was getting to be more than just a blip on her radar.  She was still a blur but I was gradually increasing my CWM (corrected words per minute) and closing the gap.

The big day came for our final exam.  Little did she know that from day one I was bound and determined to crush her.  On the sly I practiced every chance I got.  As I strode into the classroom and took my seat I felt a quiet confidence.  Trying to pump myself up I thought to myself “Babs, you’re going down.”  I looked at her, she nodded and I nodded.  It was on! 

At the signal to start, she was blazing; I was blazing, elbow to elbow.  She hit the arm a fraction before I did, but it was close.  As each line went by she increased her lead gradually until the finish.  But at the finish I was on the same line she was.  I don’t believe in moral victories if you don’t win but this might have been one.  Out of the 30 some students in the class she finished first and I was second at 80 some words per minute.  Actually, when they factored in the correct words per minute I was about 20^th.  But I had my pride.  I could call myself a man.       

         

THE OWL

I have known for many years that our kids have big hearts when it comes to animals.  All get weak at the knees at the sight of a droopy eyed dog or a mare with her foal.  Each of them is different of course, ranging from general concern to PETA types fiercely protective of the rights of animals.   The traits of most kids stem from family genes.  I am not sure if I am responsible for the extreme end of the scale but the overall love for animals, birds and fish could be traced to me. 

When I was about 10 years old our teacher gave us an assignment to bring to school something that meant a great deal to us.  I thought about it long and hard and came up with an idea.  Roy, a good friend of ours lived out in the country on a large parcel of land.  There were possums, skunk, squirrels and other animals as well as a variety of birds.  On one visit he told us of an owl that had prepared a nest on the ground in preparation for having baby owls.  He had been watching this beautiful owl sitting on its nest for some time and felt hatching time was close.

On the way home I asked my Dad if I could take this owl to class with me for my assignment.  After much discussion about the difficulty of capturing the bird and keeping it safe my Dad called Roy to see what might be done.  He said "I will think about it and call you".

A few days later he called with a plan.  Watching the owl he had noticed it would leave the next for brief periods of time.  He thought if he built a box that could be held up at one end by a stick, tied a long piece of string to the stick, he might be able to catch the owl.

Late one afternoon he saw the owl leave.  He grabbed the box and stick, ran to the nest and positioned the box over the nest, held up by the stick.  He then took the end of the attached string and hid in the nearby bushes.  It was almost totally dark when the owl returned.  He waited patiently until the owl settled in to the nest, then pulled the string.  The stick fell out from under the box and it fell over the owl.  He crept up to the box, lifted it off the ground enough to peek in and saw the owl was safe.

He called my Dad to tell him he was on his way to our house.  Our special class was the next day so I was filled with excitement. 

It was late at night when he arrived.  He placed the box on a table in our living room and opened the lid slightly.  I got up close, peered in and all I could see were 2 huge yellow eyes looking back at me.  I closed the box and gulped.  We thanked Roy and he left. 

I was toast.  I cried and cried.  I told my Dad I could not do this.  It didn’t matter that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble, I wanted to take the owl back to her nest where she belonged.  My Dad called Roy and asked him to come back, pick up the owl and return it to its home.  I took an old football to class instead. 

Through the years there have been many reminders of our kid’s affection for pets, recently, 2 painful ones.  Each involving rescued animals, one a dog and one a cat.  Both extremely hurtful, as any pet lover can tell you.  While there may be pain at times I hope they, like me, count themselves grateful to be among those that care deeply for God’s creatures.